I'm not the biggest fan of this chapter, but please remember that I wrote the entire 50k story in 20 days for NaNoWriMo...if there are 'unplotty' chapters, it's not my fault! Well, it is my fault, but I decided to do NaNo on November 1st without any planning, so I think it's impressive I finished at all! As ever, huge thanks to every single reviewer, especially my main man kbeto.


Tom had honestly expected the small family to be imprisoned 24/7, left to their own devices in the morning. As such, he wasn't expecting the sirens to blast off the next morning at what was presumably 7:30. In the night, a note had fallen through the food slot.

'All four of you will be working today – the men will be doing some manual labour, the women for Danny himself, cleaning and such. Don't worry, I'll look out for you all. -Matt.'

Groaning, the four Fletcher's exited their warm, if not comfortable beds and went to change into their day clothes. At one point the previous evening, when Debbie was in the middle suggesting that they save a little bit of food each day, in case they needed to escape, the foot slot had opened and four little parcels had slipped through. Tom had felt sick to see Danny's familiar, wobbly script on them, writing a name on each. Inside each was a set of pyjamas, three full sets of underwear (in navy, brown and grey - the brown ones made Carrie laugh and ask if they were second hand), a set of day clothes and a chunk of the strange, sharp soap that was provided.


"You must be Tom's mother and sister. What a pleasure to meet you!" Danny's voice was the clean, smooth one that he had practised for so long to perfect for the public.

"Why have you taken us all here?" Carrie immediately asked, her shoulders hunched with anger upon seeing the man.

Danny gave her what he assumed was a reassuring smile, but just showed off a lot of his peg-like teeth, yellowish but nicely shaped. "Your dad is here because Tom tried to escape, your mum is here because your dad and Tom both requested it, an' you're here because you were wi' Tom." The Bolton accent had returned strongly – the one telltale symptom present when Danny experienced an emotion. In that moment, it was anger, much like when I myself met Danny and I happened to be quite sarcastic to him. Of course, Danny could also apply his accent to sound kinder, and more common, when he wished to.

"When can we go home?" she demanded.

"In a few months." Danny immediately replied, cracking his knuckles. "Now, you need t' clean this room fro' top to bottom – throw away any rubbish, clean the surfaces, that stuff. I'll be back in six hours."

Sweeping from the room, Carrie couldn't resist giving the middle finger to his back. Debbie, who normally would have been aghast at such behaviour from her youngest, but instead just smiled and patted her on the shoulder.

"What do we have to clean with?" Carrie asked her mother once Danny was out of her eyeline, glancing at the small pile of products on the floor. Debbie briefly looked them over.

"Bin bags, water, soap, a couple of dusters and a vacuum."

Carrie stared around the huge, messy room, and groaned.


"I think we're done!" Debbie grinned, staring around the room. It was one in the afternoon, and neither of the Fletcher females had stopped to even take a sip of water or a bite of lunch in all that time. Their reward was a spare hour before Danny returned and an extremely clean room. Now, they flopped onto the floor and picked up the trays of food that had been left for them, noting that instead of chocolate, like had been left last dinner, or slices of fresh white bread like at breakfast, there was a small cube of cake on each tray.

"Mum, I found something that I think you should see."

Carrie had (correctly) guessed that Danny's room wouldn't have microphones laced through it. Fishing in her pocket, she produced a small book with Danny's full name embossed on the front in gold. Each page was a smooth dark violet colour, and the ink swirling across it in messy handwriting was white. She carefully flicked it to the correct page and showed it to Debbie.

"Oh my god..." Debbie quaked, staring at the words. "Oh...my...god."


When the four were all once more in the room (and Tom and Bob had scrubbed the thick layer of filth from their bodies that tends to accompany cleaning the inside of chimneys with hoses and long brushes) Carrie off-handedly removed the book from her pocket and tossed it to Tom, the correct page marked. Once she had made the 'singing into a microphone' action to remind him of the multitude of microphones in the wall, he nodded and opened it to the marked page.

I know I should send Tom's family back home, and apologize to Tom. I know I should. I miss him so much, from his stupid little puns to him in bed. I just don't think I'm brave enough to apologize to him when he will probably flatly refuse to accept it. I love him. I really, truly love him. The real leaders of this stupid government don't want us to see each other, though, so maybe we shouldn't. All I know is that I love Tom, and I wish I was actually in charge of what is going on so that I could try and save them from the demise.

"Have you seen the date?" Debbie asked, pretending to be busy with the biography on Danny Jones that she had in her hands.

Tom glanced at the scrawled date: it had been written that very morning.

"I need to speak to him." Tom put forth, before evenly walking to the door and beginning to pound hard on it, shouting Matt's name. After a minute or so, the door opened slightly.

"I have to speak to Danny. I have to." Tom demanded.

"I can't let you go...but- oh no, you're escaping!"

Tom stared at Matt for a moment, confused as to why he had suddenly shouted that. Then he understood, and began to sprint down the corridor on the memorised route to Danny's room. Usually, the distance felt fairly short and unimportant. Now, it was neverending, as his long legs stretched out over and over again, seeking the man.


"My family found your journal." Tom began, chucking the small book at the startled Danny. "I love you, I accept your apology (even though you haven't made it yet) and I want to know what's going on. What's the demise?"

Danny looked quietly up at Tom for a moment. "Sit down on my bed and we can talk."

Tom sat down, looking insistently at Danny, who sighed.

"I was made the public leader of th'a Leadership because I'm pretty, and I had – what do you call them – electrocution lessons when I was younger."

"Elocution." Tom grinned, appreciating the fact that Danny had allowed himself to slip back into Bolton mode.

"I don't have anythin' to do with tha' way this country is lead. If I say no, they'll kill me, or...do other things..."

"Who will kill you, Dan - or whatever else they do?" Tom asked, very gently taking Danny's hands into his.

"The real Leadership."

A tear rolled down Danny's cheek, making Tom loosen one of his hands from Danny's and wipe it away softly.

"Everything you've seen of me so far Tom, that's fake. I'll be real wid'y'a from now on, but you have to help me." desperately plead Danny.

"How can I help you?"

"I need ya to do what I tell you, when I tell you. None of your family will have to work any more – I'll even get them to bring your dog and cats up, and move you into a proper room – but you need to do what I tell you to." The tears truly were rolling now, leaving tracks on Danny's cheeks that showed just how heavy the makeup that was applied to him before every public appearance was. You couldn't even see his freckles under it.

"Of course I will, Dan. As long as you're completely honest with me from now on."

Danny nodded, before tilting his head slightly and moving in to kiss Tom. Tom felt sparks fly through him, and his knees literally felt weak as he kissed back, moving a hand to Danny's waist. Before very long, they were back to the same old positions, doing the same old, X-Rated things.