Wishing I owned them, all of them. But reality kicks in and I'm forced to admit
that I own absolutely nothing, apart from Grace and Charlie but they're hardly
going to make me a millioniare.
SHAKEDOWN
Author: MArcher
Rating: PG13
Summary: Jonathan takes deliberate and secretive steps in an attempt to
find peace of mind, but he learns he can't control the fate of
others.
Parts of this story relate directly to 'Sins of the Brother' so you
might feel like reading that first to save any confusion with this.
Chapter 1 Queensberry Rules
Jonathan Carnahan pushed his chair back and rubbed his aching calf and ankle.
It had been a month since the cast was removed from his leg, leaving him
with a slight limp. It was a legacy from his unfortunate night being held at the
mercy of thugs, but the doctor had said it would eventually disappear. In the
meantime his walking cane provided the perfect prop for his exaggerated stories
of daring and bravery and those women gullible to a show of wealth fell easily
for such tales. In truth, it was longer than Jonathan could remember since he'd
had so much attention lavished on him by the fairer sex and if a broken leg could
win the ladies' hearts, then so be it. A small compensation at the very least.
However, since his ordeal, he had been finding it difficult to relax in his usual
surroundings but he reassured himself that, like his limp, his nervousness of
crowds would soon dissipate, leaving him to carry on as normal.
Jonathan surveyed the room and shook his head "This is just bloody ridiculous!"
he thought to himself. "No point even being here if I'm not prepared to have a
proper go." If he'd learned anything from his experience, it was caution. He was
afraid and the toll of the beating was still evident on his body. Sadly, he had no
doubt that he was stuck in this way of life, but for now at least he had stopped
swindling the other players and he kept his drinking in check. As he stood
to leave he reasoned with himself that this was only his second night out since
it all went so horribly wrong and he needed more time to ease himself back into
the swing of things. Or was it ease out of them? This place was of a slightly higher
standard than his usual haunts, attracting a good number of the newly enlisted men,
but he could spit from where he stood and still have it land in the gutter. He
couldn't help but wonder what had happened to his life. He'd had all the same
opportunities as his sister, more perhaps, but his all appeared to be wasted. There
was Evie, happily married, a mother, a job with purpose and then there was him,
aimless and lonely. His best friend was his ten year old nephew. He glanced
around the crowd again "Easy pickings here, if only I could just..." the thought
trailed off in his mind as he headed for the door.
The cold and extremely fresh London night air hit him like a brick wall as he
stepped into the street. The drunken giggles from the women inside bidding
him goodnight made him turn around and think half seriously about the blonde.
Two months ago he would never have hesitated, but tonight he was sober
enough to remember his sister's disapproving glare as he left the house that
evening and he wasn't about to fork out the cost off a hotel, which left him with
no choice but to go home alone. "Goodnight my dears." Jonathan played
along. "If it wasn't for the metal still lodged in my leg I'd be a danger to the both
of you!" This brought squeals of the laughter from the women as Jonathan pulled
his coat around him. He smiled, he really did enjoy attention from the girls. He
made his way to Soho knowing he could find a ride home from there, most probably
from someone he knew quite well. The walk would take him at least half an hour
and he amused himself by swinging his cane every which way to find the most
effective style. After all, his entire philosphy on life had always been that any
facade was a good one so long as as it provided the means to an end. Though now
as he walked, he was realising just how shallow his existance was, but for the life of
him he couldn't begin to wonder how things would change.
From across the road and behind him he heard scuffling, he paused his cane mid-air
but didn't stop walking, he only slowed his pace enough to turn his head slightly.
This frightened him. The memory of the beating was still raw and he feared now he
was going to have to endure another. "Good God Almighty!" he said aloud "Didn't
O'Connell say he'd paid you lot!" He still couldn't see anything, but he could hear
people struggling. He'd stopped walking and was squinting his eyes to see through
the darkness. "Who's there?" he called "You'd better show yourself....come on....
but I warn you, it'll be Queensberry rules!" he dropped his cane and lifted his fists.
Seeing his hands primed before him, he pulled them back in surprise "What in God's
name am I saying?" Jonathan was deciding whether to run or scream when he heard
muffled voices. "Oh no!" he said to himself "Some poor bastard's copping the same
as they gave me!" Then one voice rose up as a small body was pushed onto the road.
"SLUT!" yelled a drunken gravelly voice
"Good grief! It's a woman!" muttered Jonathan as he watched the feeble form huddle
on the road.
"Don't show your face to me this side of never!"
bellowed the disembodied voice. "Useless, bloody SLUT!"
With that, Jonathan heard retreating footsteps then silence. He stood where he was,
dumbstruck. Then he heard soft sobs rising from the road. Getting a grip on himself
he stepped onto the road and approached the woman, bending to help her up "I say,
your night's turned out rather badly." The woman flinched at his touch "Oh no, no.
You don't need to worry about me." continued Jonathan "I'm not up for that sort of game."
She lifted her head slightly to look at him "Getting over a similar mishap myself, if fact."
"You're a gentleman then." she whispered
"Weeell...of sorts." he said slightly laughing. It had been a long time since anyone
had called him that. "..best to get you off the middle of the road, don't you think?" He
offered his hand and together they limped to the footpath. "Anything broken?" She shook
her head "Well then, that's something at least, isn't it?"
"Thank you, sir." She stood to leave and Jonathan was able to see her tear streaked,
beaten face.
"Right then" he stammered and watched her take a few steps. "I say! You don't have to,
you know, go alone. Where, ah ...where are you off to?" She didn't turn around or say a word.
"I'm in no charging hurry to get anywhere myself. I could walk you to wherever it is you're
going...in case...in case anyone comes back at all."
Turning to look at him she said "Thank you, but no-one will come looking for me."
"Oh, I see." he watched her walk away again "Where exactly is it you're going? I mean,
if it's not a rude question?"
"It doesn't matter!" she was becomming annoyed "It's not important. You've been very
kind, but now please, just leave me."
"Well, you see, it's late...and cold." He hurried his steps to catch up with her "And you
said yourself no-one will be looking for you, so there's no harm in me walking with you,
just to make sure."
"I'm not going anywhere, I'm just going."
"Same here" Jonathan thought aloud. "Look, come with me, I'll buy you a drink, at the
very least we'll be warm again."
She stopped and looked at him, wondering if she was being set up. It was all so neat and
tidy. Take a beating from the old man, then have a conveniently placed toff show up and
play the good samaritan. There had to be a dead rat in here somewhere.
"Well, what do you say? It's bloody freezing out here." Jonathan said as he clapped his hands
then rubbed them together.
Try as she may, she couldn't hear any malice in his voice, he even made her smile a little. She
nodded at him "Alright."
"Jolly good, come along then! Oh, it's Jonathan by the way."
"Grace" was all she answered
"Well, that IS a lovely name. Pleased to meet you."
"I bet." sarcasm tinted her voice.
END CHAPTER ONE
that I own absolutely nothing, apart from Grace and Charlie but they're hardly
going to make me a millioniare.
SHAKEDOWN
Author: MArcher
Rating: PG13
Summary: Jonathan takes deliberate and secretive steps in an attempt to
find peace of mind, but he learns he can't control the fate of
others.
Parts of this story relate directly to 'Sins of the Brother' so you
might feel like reading that first to save any confusion with this.
Chapter 1 Queensberry Rules
Jonathan Carnahan pushed his chair back and rubbed his aching calf and ankle.
It had been a month since the cast was removed from his leg, leaving him
with a slight limp. It was a legacy from his unfortunate night being held at the
mercy of thugs, but the doctor had said it would eventually disappear. In the
meantime his walking cane provided the perfect prop for his exaggerated stories
of daring and bravery and those women gullible to a show of wealth fell easily
for such tales. In truth, it was longer than Jonathan could remember since he'd
had so much attention lavished on him by the fairer sex and if a broken leg could
win the ladies' hearts, then so be it. A small compensation at the very least.
However, since his ordeal, he had been finding it difficult to relax in his usual
surroundings but he reassured himself that, like his limp, his nervousness of
crowds would soon dissipate, leaving him to carry on as normal.
Jonathan surveyed the room and shook his head "This is just bloody ridiculous!"
he thought to himself. "No point even being here if I'm not prepared to have a
proper go." If he'd learned anything from his experience, it was caution. He was
afraid and the toll of the beating was still evident on his body. Sadly, he had no
doubt that he was stuck in this way of life, but for now at least he had stopped
swindling the other players and he kept his drinking in check. As he stood
to leave he reasoned with himself that this was only his second night out since
it all went so horribly wrong and he needed more time to ease himself back into
the swing of things. Or was it ease out of them? This place was of a slightly higher
standard than his usual haunts, attracting a good number of the newly enlisted men,
but he could spit from where he stood and still have it land in the gutter. He
couldn't help but wonder what had happened to his life. He'd had all the same
opportunities as his sister, more perhaps, but his all appeared to be wasted. There
was Evie, happily married, a mother, a job with purpose and then there was him,
aimless and lonely. His best friend was his ten year old nephew. He glanced
around the crowd again "Easy pickings here, if only I could just..." the thought
trailed off in his mind as he headed for the door.
The cold and extremely fresh London night air hit him like a brick wall as he
stepped into the street. The drunken giggles from the women inside bidding
him goodnight made him turn around and think half seriously about the blonde.
Two months ago he would never have hesitated, but tonight he was sober
enough to remember his sister's disapproving glare as he left the house that
evening and he wasn't about to fork out the cost off a hotel, which left him with
no choice but to go home alone. "Goodnight my dears." Jonathan played
along. "If it wasn't for the metal still lodged in my leg I'd be a danger to the both
of you!" This brought squeals of the laughter from the women as Jonathan pulled
his coat around him. He smiled, he really did enjoy attention from the girls. He
made his way to Soho knowing he could find a ride home from there, most probably
from someone he knew quite well. The walk would take him at least half an hour
and he amused himself by swinging his cane every which way to find the most
effective style. After all, his entire philosphy on life had always been that any
facade was a good one so long as as it provided the means to an end. Though now
as he walked, he was realising just how shallow his existance was, but for the life of
him he couldn't begin to wonder how things would change.
From across the road and behind him he heard scuffling, he paused his cane mid-air
but didn't stop walking, he only slowed his pace enough to turn his head slightly.
This frightened him. The memory of the beating was still raw and he feared now he
was going to have to endure another. "Good God Almighty!" he said aloud "Didn't
O'Connell say he'd paid you lot!" He still couldn't see anything, but he could hear
people struggling. He'd stopped walking and was squinting his eyes to see through
the darkness. "Who's there?" he called "You'd better show yourself....come on....
but I warn you, it'll be Queensberry rules!" he dropped his cane and lifted his fists.
Seeing his hands primed before him, he pulled them back in surprise "What in God's
name am I saying?" Jonathan was deciding whether to run or scream when he heard
muffled voices. "Oh no!" he said to himself "Some poor bastard's copping the same
as they gave me!" Then one voice rose up as a small body was pushed onto the road.
"SLUT!" yelled a drunken gravelly voice
"Good grief! It's a woman!" muttered Jonathan as he watched the feeble form huddle
on the road.
"Don't show your face to me this side of never!"
bellowed the disembodied voice. "Useless, bloody SLUT!"
With that, Jonathan heard retreating footsteps then silence. He stood where he was,
dumbstruck. Then he heard soft sobs rising from the road. Getting a grip on himself
he stepped onto the road and approached the woman, bending to help her up "I say,
your night's turned out rather badly." The woman flinched at his touch "Oh no, no.
You don't need to worry about me." continued Jonathan "I'm not up for that sort of game."
She lifted her head slightly to look at him "Getting over a similar mishap myself, if fact."
"You're a gentleman then." she whispered
"Weeell...of sorts." he said slightly laughing. It had been a long time since anyone
had called him that. "..best to get you off the middle of the road, don't you think?" He
offered his hand and together they limped to the footpath. "Anything broken?" She shook
her head "Well then, that's something at least, isn't it?"
"Thank you, sir." She stood to leave and Jonathan was able to see her tear streaked,
beaten face.
"Right then" he stammered and watched her take a few steps. "I say! You don't have to,
you know, go alone. Where, ah ...where are you off to?" She didn't turn around or say a word.
"I'm in no charging hurry to get anywhere myself. I could walk you to wherever it is you're
going...in case...in case anyone comes back at all."
Turning to look at him she said "Thank you, but no-one will come looking for me."
"Oh, I see." he watched her walk away again "Where exactly is it you're going? I mean,
if it's not a rude question?"
"It doesn't matter!" she was becomming annoyed "It's not important. You've been very
kind, but now please, just leave me."
"Well, you see, it's late...and cold." He hurried his steps to catch up with her "And you
said yourself no-one will be looking for you, so there's no harm in me walking with you,
just to make sure."
"I'm not going anywhere, I'm just going."
"Same here" Jonathan thought aloud. "Look, come with me, I'll buy you a drink, at the
very least we'll be warm again."
She stopped and looked at him, wondering if she was being set up. It was all so neat and
tidy. Take a beating from the old man, then have a conveniently placed toff show up and
play the good samaritan. There had to be a dead rat in here somewhere.
"Well, what do you say? It's bloody freezing out here." Jonathan said as he clapped his hands
then rubbed them together.
Try as she may, she couldn't hear any malice in his voice, he even made her smile a little. She
nodded at him "Alright."
"Jolly good, come along then! Oh, it's Jonathan by the way."
"Grace" was all she answered
"Well, that IS a lovely name. Pleased to meet you."
"I bet." sarcasm tinted her voice.
END CHAPTER ONE