Disclaimer: I don't own "Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries" or any of the show/book's characters, wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: Because I need more Bert x Cec x Alice. And background Phyrne/Jack.
Warnings: amnesia, memory loss, injury, reference to a threesome relationship, romance, drama, angst, sexual content, domesticity.
Behind the Eight Ball
Chapter One
"Bert! Mate! Christ! No... don't do this to me! Bert?!"
He came around slowly – stirring at the echo of Cec yelling. He blinked, but just saw dark. It took a moment to realize that something was over his eyes. Blinding him. He stiffened, inhaling lavender-scented linen as he bit down on the whimper that wanted to get free. Rocking through a flashback of dirty hands pulling a coat over a dead man's face. The soak of red running down a coarse hospital sheet. The boy with crutches sewing a body bag around his best mate's purpling toes. His boots stolen by some poor bastard who'd been hard up enough to nick a dead man's shoes.
The distant staccato of gunfire killed Cecil's echoes.
Threatening to take him back there.
Back to war and muck and nothing in the way of good.
He bared his teeth under the suffocating linen.
Covers were for the dead.
And hell if he was done fighting.
But before he could move, the material hushed away, blinding him as the low-light of an unfamiliar room hazed into being. Realizing the linen had been a wash-cloth as the last of the moisture beaded across his lips. He licked them reflectively, parched.
"He's awake!"
He forced his eyes to focus before he was ready. Regretting it when Cec's stray - Alice - took shape between blinks. Eyelids heavy. Head pounding. His palms twitched around the mattress, wanting to yard himself up, but everything hurt too much to try.
Christ, he felt like he'd been hit by his own bleedin' cab.
"What happened?" he rasped, breathing unevenly as his tongue worked around a rash of grit. Wanting to spit, but holding back due to the delicate nature of his company.
The girl reached for a cup of water. Hushing close. Wafting the scent of heather and mineral water as she held it to his lips. He was too exhausted to fight the coddling and drank awkwardly. Feeling the strain of just keeping steady as he dropped back into the nest of pillows. Chest heaving.
"What happened?" he repeated, when the awkward silence stretched. Eyes darting from Alice, then down at himself. Uncomfortable when he found he'd been dressed down to a thin cotton shirt and his skives under the covers. It wasn't right, being practically naked in front of her. But if she was scandalized, she made no sign of it.
He supposed having saved her that day in the cab give him some lee-way.
"You saved me...us," Alice answered softly, biting her lip. Dark eyes openly worried as her hand drifted down to her stomach in a tell he didn't understand. "Thank you, Bert. I didn't even see the-"
He frowned at the liberty she was taking with his name.
Bit familiar, wasn't it?
He peered at her. Surprised to realize she was all pink and plush with her dark hair dolled up and pinned at the back. She was a pretty thing. Looking a sore sight better than she had in the hospital. In fact- she looked healed. Hell, if she hadn't bled all over his cab a few days ago he wouldn't have thought her ill at all.
Something was off.
He was distracted before the suspicion could gain ground when Alice came at him with the cloth again. Too weak to push it away as she daubed his forehead. It was nice, but he wasn't one for fussing. Instead, he tried to sit up. Only to be shocked all over again when the bird put her hand on his chest. Stopping him cold. Bold as anything.
Christ.
He was about to ask what she was about when Cec tumbled into the room. Relief clear on his face. The bloke was a damn sight for sore eyes as he eased himself up. Wanting be level with 'im.
"Thank god," Cecil exhaled, coming to stand behind Alice as the girl grasped his hand and held on. Looking up at him lovingly. "You had us worried, mate."
He cleared his throat, uncomfortable at the display, but Cecil didn't react. In fact, the bloody idiot patted her shoulder, letting their fingers weave together. Making him wonder if he was seein' things before he was distracted by a wicked ache radiating from the back of his head.
"Miss Fisher went for Doctor Macmillan," Cecil offered suddenly. Like someone has asked.
His eyes narrowed.
Miss Fisher?
Why would a lady be bothered with the likes of him?
They barely knew one another.
"Why?" he asked, feeling dangerously light. Like if he closed his eyes he might kip off completely.
Cecil just chuckled. Tossing his cap in the direction of the dresser and missing it by a yard. Making Alice tch-tch such an annoyingly fond sound he was uncomfortable all over again.
"Miss Fisher is a wild one, you know that well enough by now," Cec hummed, eyes darting to the bandaged scrapes that painted his forearms. "Besides, she was there when it happened. She and Dot were picking up Alice to go shop for the baby."
Dot? Baby? What?
Alice beamed, looking at him fondly.
Why was no one making a lick of bloody sense?!
He squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again. Irritation rising like a particular robust sourdough as he decided to focus on one thing at a time.
"What happened exactly?" he demanded, clearing his throat as Alice let go of Cec's hand and shocked him by grabbing his. Dainty against rough. His fingers flexed, then pulled away. Mortified. Not sure what to make of it when her expression fell.
"I'll get you some tea," Alice decided, clearly rallying. Looking at him searchingly as she got up from the chair. Taking the kiss Cec dropped on her like it was her due as she swished past. "Miss Fisher said you shouldn't move until Doctor Macmillan gets a look at you."
His eyebrows might as well have been sky-high.
Cecil exhaled in a rush, patting his knee through the linens as he slipped into Alice's chair. Looking at him in that way he had, only- more somehow. He didn't know how to describe it.
"Thank Christ your reflexes are better than mine. I didn't even hear it."
"Hear what?" he grumbled, bloody well exasperated by this point.
Cec frowned.
"You don't remember? Hell- it was that cart horse. It got spooked. We were stuck in the alley when it came through like the dickens. You pushed Alice out of the way, but got clobbered by the damn thing. We thought we'd lost you. If Miss Fisher hadn't-"
He didn't remember. But it sure explained pain in his head.
"Well, as long as the bird is alright, suppose there was no harm done," he decided slowly. Wondering how many times she'd be needing saving as the sound of dishes clinking carried down the hall. "What were we out for anyway? With her, I mean? She isn't in trouble again, is she?"
The wrinkle between Cecil's eyes was in full force as he looked at him.
"Trouble? No. She was meeting up with Miss Fisher and Dot to shop for-"
Alice stepped into the room with a tremulous smile, balancing a tea tray.
He rolled his eyes when Cec jumped up and took it from her. Balancing the tray on the side of the bed as the girl fluttered into the chair and handed him a cuppa. He tracked the movement belatedly, getting caught on the details as her brown skirt flared prettily. Some sort of beading making the hems click against the seat of the chair.
He sipped the brew cautiously, surprised to find it exactly how he liked it.
"We were so worried, Bert," Alice murmured, when he'd finished off his cup and was looking meaningfully at the teapot. "If we'd lost you...I-I can't think about it."
She dashed away tears, making him shift uncomfortably. And not for the first time since he'd woken up, something scratched at the back of his hind-brain. It weren't an instinct. No. More like a feeling. Something wasn't-
"Steady on, love," he murmured, keeping his hands firmly around the cup. Refusing to give them freedom to wander. Reliving that moment in the cab when she'd collapsed on him. Lax, trusting and over-warm in a way that immediately had his hackles up.
He needed a damn gasper.
Cec handed her his handkerchief. Looking so besotted he nearly tossed his cup against the wall. But it was the kiss the man pressed into her hair that finally broke him.
"What the hell are you two on about?" he growled, confused and angry. Half at himself, half at them. Looking square at Cec as he spat out the last bit. "You've only just met her."
All things considered, he wasn't prepared for them going white on him. Shocked. Wordless. Eyes wide despite never once dropping each other's hands. Looking at him like he was the one overstepping himself.
He frowned, cheeks hot. Caught in a queer place. Half of him itching to get to his feet and away, while the other half was determined to get answers as the sound of a car braking quickly issued from outside. Skidding on slick cobblestones.
It hadn't been raining that morning.
His head cocked. Almost able to grasp the tattered thread of awareness that had been building in the background before Cecil spoke. Breaking his concentration.
"Bert… mate...what- what do you remember?"
He opened his mouth to reply when, of all people, Miss Fisher and the Doctor came through the door. Swishing silks and trousers alike.
"Oh, Bert! You're awake. Lovely!" Miss Fisher beamed. Motes of dust and rain-damp pollen following in her wake as light from outside trickled in. "How is the dashing hero feeling?"
The good doctor wasted no time. Ignoring his frown and skittish shifting as she planted herself right in his business and started to look him over.
"Miss Fisher..." he started, realizing he hadn't thanked her for the gleaming new cab. Even if it did come with strings attached. He couldn't help it. She was a curious thing - and up for a bit of fun if the last few days were any indication. "I don't-"
Cec and Alice looked from him, to the Doctor, then back to Miss Fisher in quick succession. But he truly lost the plot when Inspector Robinson came charging through the door. Lurching to a stop just before he collided with Miss Fisher in an awkward skid that put his hackles up.
"Alright! What the bloody hell is going on?!" he snapped, wrenching himself upright with a dizzying rush he immediately regretted. Shamed to say the only reason he didn't keel over was Doctor Macmillan's firm hand. Forcing him back into the pillows as she parted his hair, peering at his scalp while he was distracted. "Why is he here!?"
Miss Fisher cocked her head, looking back at the Detective.
"You had an accident, Bert," the Inspector told him. Looking at him sternly, but with surprising worry. He didn't know why. Last he figured, the man barely cared. Didn't call him by his first name, neither. "You're lucky you're still breathing."
He scowled. The familiarity didn't make a lick of sense. He'd spent far too long trying to get the bloke to take him seriously at the station when Miss Fisher had gone off on her own in the bathhouse.
"I got that. My bloody head is still ringing! But what is all this? I want answers!"
His hand was dirty at the knuckles, scraped up like he really had taken a fall. But he didn't give it any mind. Instead, he used the momentum to point at Cec – then Alice. Hand flapping out to encompass the entire room and everyone in it. Past confused and teetering on angry.
"Doctor- Miss Fisher, I- I don't think he remembers," Cecil forced out, wrecked. Lips in danger of sliding off his face. He hated it. Hated what could possibly make Cec look like that.
"Remember bloody what?" he demanded.
Miss Fisher's hand skipped to her mouth. Kohl-lined eyes flaring wide.
"Oh no."
The Doctor's hand stalled around the back of his head. Finding the knock. He hissed a breath when she grazed it. Biting back the urge to cuss a blue streak.
"I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't remember his own name," she muttered, smelling like sharp chemicals and cotton as she leaned in. Grabbing his wrist and taking his pulse, getting his eyes to focus. "He's got one hell of a knock to the head if the size of this goose egg is any indication."
"Bert, what's the last thing you remember?" Miss Fisher urged. Yellow dress blinding under her gauzy black coat. Threatening to make him go cross-eyed before he looked back at Cec. Taking comfort in the familiar when the man nodded at him encouragingly.
He coughed, tonguing at the grit between his teeth.
"Well, you gave us the new cab, didn't you?"
He was confident in his answer for all of two beats. Right up until Cec's face crumpled. Bracing Alice with hands that dwarfed her narrow shoulders. The action strangely in tune with how closely the Inspector and Miss Fisher were standing as the room went quiet.
"Didn't you?" he repeated, looking around the room. He wracked his brain, ignoring the ache. Seizing on the first clear wisps he could find. Snapping his fingers as he got the full of it. "Yeah, that's right, we saw you off to the station… came back to the house and found the car. I remember. Met your Butler and everything."
Alice started crying. Startling him so much that he immediately patted around for a handkerchief. Finding only the washcloth and handing it to her hurriedly as a slow, catching sort of gasp made the rounds.
His chest tightened as he looked from Cec to Alice and then to Miss Fisher.
"Oh Bert," Miss Fisher murmured, expression gentle as she looked over at Cecil and Alice before turning back to him. "That was years ago..."
Alice only cried harder.
All in all, he felt like the worst shite in the world.
A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – There will be more to come.
Reference:
- Behind the eight ball: in a bit of a predicament or tricky situation.
- Gasper: cigarette.
