Thumb Rings and Ballet Slippers

((A/N: Trigger warning – Mentioned domestic abuse. That's a bit of a spoiler, I s'pose, but I don't want any of you lovelies getting upset reading this. That being said, if abuse triggers you in any way, please click away from this chapter. Take care of yourselves, sweeties!))

Being called tea lady as the boy next to her drove a little above the speeding limit was comforting.

She knew something was wrong when her phone rang, she kept it behind the bar and had instructed all of the people likely to call her to only ring her if it was an emergency so she immediately finished serving Pouncival and Tumblebrutus who had shown up to visit Etcetera again and answered quickly, sighing a little when she saw Victoria's name flash on the screen. She just hadn't assumed that it was so dire, so close to home. She figured that her room mate and Plato had argued given the nature in which Victoria spoke about him earlier but when the clipped accent spoke softly down the phone to her and informed her that her sister had come over and perhaps she'd better head home early, Jemima's blood ran cold. She walked over to Exotica and her boss looked her up and down once before announcing that she could have the night off. Jemima was halfway through the door when Pouncival grabbed her arm and said that he'd take her in Tumblebrutus' car.

Now she was sat in a second-hand Hyundai with music pouring out from botched speakers and Pouncival jabbering away next to her and despite the feeling of foreboding that made her sit up straight in her seat and play with her fingers, he made her feel a fraction more comfortable. He didn't ask what was going on, he was satisfied with her initial mumble of 'family emergency' and found a way to make it so that she didn't feel like she needed to create conversation but knew he was right next to her and he'd get her home as soon as possible.

"I didn't know you drove," she said finally, smiling fondly as Pouncival hummed along to the stereo.

"I don't really, I mean, I have my license and stuff but it's just easier to use public transport usually. You're lucky that I didn't start the drink you got me otherwise you'd have to deal with Tumble in the car, he drives like an old woman."

Jemima forced a chuckle as they stopped at a red light. In true British fashion, it had just began to rain, the droplets hitting the windshield like bullets and making more noise than the music that Pouncival had turned down when he began to speak. They sat there, embraced tightly by the soundtrack of rain and a radio chart show, and they both kept their eyes on the lights, willing them silently to change to green. After a few seconds, Jemima felt a soft pressure fall on her hand and she looked down to see that Pouncival had taken it upon himself to entangle his fingers with hers as they sat waiting. She blinked back up to see that his eyes were still locked onto the road and took the opportunity to stare at his profile, his short nose and turned-up chin, and she felt a surge of affection for the new friend come over her.

"You'll be okay," he mumbled, "We'll get you home."

She nodded, usually she'd have smiled and thanked him but in that moment all she could manage was that little quirk of her head, he smiled for her. Then the warmth was gone and his hand was back on the wheel as the light turned green and he pulled off quickly. She kept looking at his profile, he licked his lips when he concentrated, and she noticed that he had quite long eyelashes and she liked it, she liked the beauty mark that lay just adjacent to the left corner of his widow's peak too. It was easier to focus on Pouncival, on his humming and incessant talking, than to look at the road because then she'd be calculating how far away from home she was, how long it would take her to get to her sister and sort things out.

Had it been Bombalurina, had Victoria called and said that Bombalurina was over and perhaps she should get home early, Jemima would have been far less worried. Partly because Bombalurina was a strong woman that could handle herself and partly because Demeter constantly worried Jemima. The middle sister was her own worst enemy, she didn't back down from a fight but had neither the mental or physical capacity to see herself through to the end in confrontation, she grew attached to people but had little faith in them, she acknowledged that people could be bad but reveled in the danger they provided her. Jemima had called her a few times since being in London and Demeter sounded lost without their eldest sister but refused any help her younger sister offered her, she had only called once since Demeter had been back with Macavity and their conversation was cut short because Demeter had said she was too busy to chat. Jemima knew that she wasn't Demeter's favourite sister, she knew that Demeter would sometimes look at her and resent her sunny disposition and blind optimism, but that didn't stop either sister from loving each other, that didn't stop Jemima from wanting to break down at the prospect of Demeter being hurt in the comfort of pretty crappy car she was in.

"Here," Pouncival said, breaking Jemima's train of thought as they pulled into her street, "Told you I'd get you home."

She was pretty impressed he remembered where she lived. He parked a little away from her flat and turned to her instantly, Jemima felt tears begin to prick at her eyes as he regarded her calmly. She was scared. She was the youngest sister, it wasn't her place to be the grown up and sort out whatever made Demeter show up unannounced after months of not seeing her, she needed Bombalurina to fly in from New York and make everything okay again. Pouncival's hand found hers once more,

"Want me to come in with you?" he said gently, no trace of comedy in his voice now, "Because I can if you want me to."

"No, best not," Jemima replied, squeezing his hand. She noticed that his face was almost perfectly symmetrical if it weren't for the beauty mark on his left side or how his lips seemed to rest crookedly beneath his nose, as though he was permanently smirking. She swore that for a moment she saw those lips purse as though he was anticipating more than just a friendly handshake but quickly shrugged the feeling off, knowing full well that, despite his rants about how clumsy and ungainly she was, he absolutely adored Etcetera. Nevertheless, she leaned in slowly and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek before whispering her thanks and exiting the car.

He watched as she ran up the street, her hair dancing in the wind behind her, it was caught in a street lamp for a fraction of a second and it shone like flames under it's yellow glare. She fumbled outside her door for a while before letting herself in and slamming the door behind her. Pouncival sat in the car for a moment, simply staring at where she had been stood just a moment ago, before pulling off again and turning the stereo up. He'd felt her brown eyes on him, had wanted to badly to wipe away the tears that had more than once threatened to overspill the threshold of her eyes, had wanted to turn his head so that her lips connected with his when she kissed his cheek. Said cheek felt warm now, she'd left her mark on his face and he knew he'd have to scrub hard at his skin to try and remove the imprint she'd left with that chaste action. Pouncival knew he was being stupid, he barely knew this girl, but images of her leaning in to kiss his cheek would surely plague him as he tried to get to sleep tonight.

Jemima had almost kissed Victoria when she got home to find Demeter wrapped up in a blanket, wearing some of Victoria's pyjamas and holding a glass of water. Her friend had made her views on Demeter quite clear, had spoken scornfully about the blonde sister when the topic of conversation naturally fell on her because Victoria thought it was awful of the older sister to not check in more and diabolical that Jemima had to always instigate contact. She'd put that aside though, had been sat on the coffee table so that she could look at Demeter when the blonde sister spoke nervously and had shown her nothing but kindness. She stood when Jemima entered and smiled comfortingly, she saw the small girl's eyes well up and noticed how quickly the tears seemed to dissolve as Jemima straightened up and made her way over.

Demeter began to sob when she saw her little sister, tears making their way down her heart-shaped face and spilling onto her lap and Jemima's chest tightened as Victoria moved up so that her room mate could sit opposite the crying sister. Jemima took Demeter's hands in her own and watched as she cried, too afraid to throw her arms around her sister in fear of snapping her into two. She'd never seen Demeter look so fragile. It wasn't unusual for Demeter to suddenly hit a low, that was just Demeter, but she'd always been able to shake it off before it got dangerous. Now, it had passed dangerous. Now, she was broken and Jemima had the responsibility of fixing her and God, that was scary. She let her eyes scan her sister's bruised face, make it's way down to the mess of her neck and fall on the little scratches that made it's way from the soles of her feet and onto the tops of them, her wrist seemed swollen too. She'd lost weight, her eyes were bloodshot and her lips fuller than usual.

When her sister had calmed down, had stopped mumbling apologies between choked sobs and leaned forward to rest her head on her lap so Jemima could play with her, now very thin, strawberry blonde hair, Jemima voiced the first thought that came to her and let the words hang ominously in the air.

"Who did this to you?"

Demeter sat up again and looked her younger sister in the eye, she'd always been a little intimidated by Jemima's eyes, they were so dark and seemed so deep, as though they could swallow her whole. She frowned, knowing that her little sister already had an inclination of who exactly had done this to her and not wanting to prove her right but she was too tired to try and think of an excuse, too hurt to even consider her assailant as a possible friend now.

"He did it," she whispered, choking back a sob, "You were all right and I'm so stupid and he did it and I'm such an idiot, Jemima."

And for the second time that night, Jemima visibly paled. She knew exactly who Demeter was talking about, had images of red hair and blue eyes play in her mind, heard his velvet voice in her ear, imagined his artistic hands balling into fists and hurting her sister. She tried to keep a straight face, tried to stay strong for Demeter but it was hard when she imagined a man that she'd grown up with destroying her sister like this. She always knew that he wasn't a nice man or a good partner, was always slightly wary of the way he looked at her sister and intimidated by how his voice would go from joyously happy and charming to cold and sarcastic in a matter of seconds.

The first time she knew she didn't want him anywhere near her sister was when she was sixteen and visiting her elder sisters in their own place. She'd walked downstairs in the middle of the night to get some aspirin for a headache that had been annoying her for a few hours and he was sat with Demeter on his lap in the kitchen, he had his head tilted back and her sister was chastising him for drinking too much, he'd flinched when Jemima had turned the light on and cringed as the youngest sister voiced her apologies.

"Get back to bed, Jemima," Demeter had said.

"Why can't she join in, Dem?" he had said, "Get a glass, Jemima. Try your first sip of whiskey with me. I'd love to see you drunk, you're such a sweet little thing. Your sister was a sweet little thing once until she decided she liked me. Do you like me, Jemima?"

"Get back to bed, Jemima," Demeter had repeated.

"Do you like me, Jemima? Because I like you. I like your sister too but at this current moment in time she's being a fucking bitch and I think I'd like her better if she shut her fucking mouth. Do you think I can make her shut her fucking mouth, Jemima?"

It looked like he'd certainly been able to make Demeter shut her fucking mouth now, with the woman on her sofa almost unable to form coherent sentences on account of her crying and shaking. Jemima didn't pry, she never did, but the words and the stories of exactly what the monster had done to Demeter fell from her sister's lips as soon as Jemima had whispered;

"You're not an idiot."

Now all Jemima could see was her sister cowered on the floor as he punched her, screamed at her and did horrendous things to her in the most intimate and disgusting manner. Jemima had attempted to keep calm, she wanted to be strong like Bombalurina, but as Demeter's voice got wary and she stopped her story telling, Jemima began to shake too as tears finally broke their threshold and fell down her cheeks.

"Why didn't you come sooner?" she whispered, she felt Victoria's hand on her shoulder and Demeter's eyes on her face, it was all very claustrophobic.

"I loved him," Demeter whispered, "And he'd be so apologetic, he'd promise me it wouldn't happen again and if I came here you would have told me to stay away from him, you might have told Bombalurina and I just- I loved him. I love him."

Jemima flinched and looked away for a moment, trying to process and understand what her sister was saying. It was true, if Demeter had shown up with a black eye or a fat lip then Jemima would have done everything in her power to make sure that she didn't go back to him. The problem was that Demeter had seen this as a bad thing, had wanted to stay in a home where her partner hit her, forced her to do things with him when she didn't want to, made her the mess she was now.

"And he loves me," Demeter said, her voice ringing with clarity, "And I always thought that if you loved someone and they loved you back, you don't give up on them."

"How can someone who loves you do this to you?" Victoria replied instantly, her face gentle despite the coolness in her voice. Demeter looked up at her and sighed, running a hand through her hair because she knew how ridiculous she sounded, how stupid she'd been to get herself in this situation. It was textbook, the abuser playing at being the guilty and wounded lover to win back the victim. But it wasn't a façade in his case, he had felt remorse, he loved her.

"You don't understand, you don't know him," Demeter said softly, her eyes falling to her little sister, "He does love me. He's loved me since we were teenagers. He does, doesn't he Jemima?"

"I don't think Macavity knows what love is," came the automatic response from the youngest sister.

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"Are you harbouring a blonde fugitive by any chance?"

"Hello to you too, Tugger."

Munkustrap smirked a little, muting the documentary he was watching as he pressed the phone to his ear, his little brother's playful tone amusing him. He leant back into the sofa and put a hand behind his head, preparing himself for whatever tale made his brother call him in the middle of the night, Tugger only ever rang with a purpose and Munkustrap couldn't think of a reason for him to be calling at that moment, especially when he could hear the buzz of voices in the background which usually meant he had visitors. He heard Tugger excuse himself and move, the voices grew weaker until finally he could only hear his brother's breath on the end.

"Seriously, Munkustrap. Is Demeter there? Because Mac's just shown up on my doorstep, raving that she's gone missing."

Tugger's voice was uncharacteristically serious and the mention of Demeter made Munkustrap sit up straight in surprise. He hadn't spoken to his older brother or the woman he was still hopelessly in love with since Demeter had told him they were back together, not out of spite but simply because there was no reason to intrude on their relationship and he made it clear to Demeter that if she needed him then she could call whenever. He imagined what Tugger meant by 'raving', envisioned his brother's red hair breaking loose from it's usual slicked back look and falling onto his forehead. He was probably sweating, beads of moisture decorating his almost white skin, and his brow was more than likely furrowed. Macavity was usually intimidating, with his suave blazers and his permanent snigger, but when the eldest brother felt insecure or angry he turned into something scarier than usual Macavity. He had seen Macavity feel insecure, had seen him angry, and it wasn't a thought he relished.

"She's not here. What do you mean she's gone missing?" Munkustrap said, feeling himself get progressively more and more panicked despite his calm voice.

"She's probably left him," Tugger whispered, "He looks like he's in a bad way and God knows they're not exactly a match made in heaven. He thinks I'm calling Bombalurina right now but I figured Demeter went straight to you the last time they broke up and it's not like worrying 'Rina is going to do anything, she's all the way in model land right now."

"I'll find her, you keep him away," Munkustrap said, standing immediately, "She obviously doesn't want to be around him right now. I'll, um, I'll do something."

"Well hurry because I don't know how long it'll be until Quaxo resorts to his card tricks to break the tension. Macavity's already chucked a vase about, I've threatened to kick him out at least six times."

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Etcetera was asleep next to him, her arm thrown over Pouncival's chest and her legs tangled with his.

She looked younger when she removed her make up and got changed out of her work uniform, her freckles standing proudly on blushing cheeks and her lean frame clothed in his shirt. Her lips were chapped, he noticed when she pressed them against his forehead and wished him good night. She smelled like whiskey and vanilla body lotion and every so often she'd move and he'd get hit with another waft of the odd combination. Wheat hair that had been curled precisely earlier was now pulled back into a haphazard bun on the top of her head. She was beautiful when she slept, not that she wasn't beautiful normally, but when she slept she showed the vulnerability that she usually hid behind obnoxious giggles and false grins. As his eyes got heavier, he realised that this was all he had ever wanted and now that he had it, he wasn't sure if it felt right.

They'd slept together before, not in a sexual sense of course as Etcetera looked at him and saw one of her closest friends, but this time was different. He picked her and Tumblebrutus up from the bar and laughed as she announced she was staying at theirs tonight. She sat in the back seat and he could see her head bob up and down drunkenly, Tumblebrutus explained tactfully that a customer had asked her to play a drinking game or two as Pouncival rolled his eyes and tried to ignore her pale face in the mirror. When they pulled up to the house, Tumblebrutus carried Etcetera out of the car whilst Pouncival walked behind holding her purse and shoes that she'd discarded at some point during the journey. Etcetera had originally gone into Tumblebrutus' room but then found herself wandering to the youngest brother's room, playing with the bun Tumble had tried to form when she complained that she was too hot.

"Your older brother is really attractive," she said with a grin, stumbling over air as she clutched at Pouncival to steady herself, "I can't contain myself and he doesn't feel right having sex with a girl that's, quite frankly, pissed out of her mind."

So that apparently meant that Etcetera was to sleep in Pouncival's room tonight. He helped her out of her clothes when she asked, averting his eyes from the orange bra she wore as he helped her find her buttons, and held a mirror so that she could wipe her make up off with a damp piece of tissue. She'd asked him to lay with her, her little hand grabbing at his wrist as she whispered that she preferred to sleep with someone next to her, and he was more than willing to comply. And now here he was, with the girl of his dreams wrapped up in his arms and his mind still in the car with a scared little bird's lips against his cheek.

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Victoria didn't like seeing Jemima so worried, it didn't suit her at all. She liked the cheery sunflower Jemima that would sing in the kitchen whilst making tea every morning, she could get used to the exhausted Jemima that spent a little longer covering dark circles with make up, but she didn't like seeing a worried Jemima at all. She watched, biting her tongue, as Jemima helped her elder sister stand from the sofa and usher her into the shower. She boiled the kettle, knowing that Jemima's shaking hands would look much better holding a mug of tea, as Jemima helped her sister wash her hair in the next room to get rid of the blood that had somehow made it's way from her nose to her hair. She sighed and text back Plato, he worked as a good comfort blanket in these kinds of situations, as Jemima helped her sister get out of the shower and into the same set of pyjamas Victoria had let the other woman wear earlier.

When Jemima was blow-drying her sister's hair, there was another knock at the door and Victoria felt her heart leap into her throat. The knock was short and urgent, just as Demeter's had been, and Victoria wondered if the villainous boyfriend had somehow tracked Demeter down. She walked out of the kitchen and faced the door, uncertain as to whether she should open it, it knocked again and Demeter screamed. As soon as the cry came from the woman's voice, the knocking became incessant and unrelenting, Victoria was sure that the fist would break the window soon. She quickly dialled 999 into her phone and hovered her finger over the call button before hesitantly opening the door, preparing herself for the worst.

The person outside was not the madman she envisioned, but a familiar face, not one she wanted to see tonight. She let her eyes run over ash blond hair and broad shoulders, let her distaste for the man opposite her embody itself on her face as her brow furrowed and her lips pouted.

"Someone screamed," Munkustrap said worriedly, she couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. He noticed it instantly and felt a foot smaller under the younger girl's gaze, but he persisted.

"Is Jemima there?" he asked and she looked incredulously at him, there was a pad of feet behind her and she turned to face the living room instantly.

"I'm here. Who is it?" Jemima's voice was melodic, it showed no indication of being in any distress and Munkustrap wanted to wrap himself in it. He saw Victoria's frame instantly relax too, perhaps it was just an effect the elfin girl had on people. Victoria shook her head and sighed,

"I don't think you want to know," she mumbled, loud enough so both people could hear. Jemima rushed over quickly and peered over her room mate's shoulder.

Munkustrap had never seen anything so heartbreaking. She was terrified. Her eyes were wider than he'd seen them before, her pale and sallow cheeks were tear-stained, she was shaking and her lips were slightly open. She'd obviously expected a different brother because when she recognised the man in front of her she took a deep breath and slowly closed her lips. She didn't smile at him. She asked Victoria to let him in and turned on her heel sharply, running back to the bathroom to tend to Demeter who was sat holding herself in the corner of the room, her hair still half-damp. She could hear Victoria explain to Munkustrap, could hear his voice start to raise a little with confusion and panic.

"It's Munkustrap," Jemima said softly, running her hands through her sister's hair, "Do you want to see him? I can ask him to leave if you don't."

"No," Demeter said instantly, "I want to see him."

So Jemima got him, because if Demeter wanted to see Munkustrap then Jemima would make sure she saw him. She walked into the living room, greeted by Victoria hurriedly calling her brother after learning from Munkustrap that the psychotic abuser of the moment was in his house and Munkustrap sat on the sofa with his head in his hands. She mumbled his name and he looked up at her, he looked so vulnerable, she almost wanted to shield him from the sight of the woman in the bathroom but if Demeter wanted to see Munkustrap then Jemima would make sure she saw him.

"She wants you," she said, Munkustrap stood slowly and walked over, his movements cautious and uncertain. He hadn't seen Jemima since that day in town, hadn't spoken since he kissed her on the sofa he'd just risen from. Jemima could see him try and form words, could see his brain working and she couldn't bear it. She pointed down the hall so that he knew where to go but when he was about to walk past, she clutched onto his arm as though she was suddenly afraid.

"She doesn't look good," she whispered, "But please try not to get upset in front of her. I don't think she's realised how, um, unwell she looks."

Victoria had to bite back a scoff, it was ironic given that she was pretty sure Jemima still hadn't realised the weight she'd lost, the tolls late nights were having on the skin below her eyes. Munkustrap flinched, his brow furrowing for a second before he regained composure and nodded, brushing past the girl and walking to the bathroom. His strides were long and suggested purpose. He looked over at the youngest sister before entering the bathroom, her head bent so that her hair hid her face from his inquisitive stare, and his heart beat hard in his chest. He'd missed her, he wanted to talk to her and God, it hurt to see her so upset. But that could wait because there was another of those lovely sisters that needed him, blinking up at him from beneath bruises and matted eyelashes, holding her hand out. He crouched in front of her and she flinched away, her hand returning to her side, shaking under his stare that was all too similar to his brother's.

He looked at the bruises on her neck and on her neck and wondered what other ugly marks were being hidden from his sight by the pyjamas she'd chucked on in a hurry after her shower. She didn't look like Demeter, she was a shell of her former self and it made Munkustrap feel the angriest he'd ever felt when he saw how her chest rose with every laboured breath, how the only colour in her face was supplied by bruises and cuts. He held his hand out but did not touch her, she glanced down at his open palm and shook her head but she looked up into his face now.

"I've been ignoring you over the past few months," she said softly, "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologise for anything," he replied and her eyes watered again, she hadn't cried this much since her Mother died.

"I've ignored Jemima too and now I show up at her door in this state, she probably hates me."

"Don't be silly," because she was being silly, Jemima was entirely incapable of hating anybody. He moved closer but she backed further into the wall, he sighed before smiling apologetically and she nodded slowly.

"I'm tired," she whispered.

"I'll get Jemima, she'll sort it."

And of course, Jemima would sort it because it seemed like there was no other alternative. When Victoria hung up her phone, satisfied with Quaxo's promise to leave his house if Macavity was still there after an hour, she glanced over to her friend that stood in the middle of the living room and had her tired eyes stuck to the floorboards. She sighed and put a comforting hand on her best friend's shoulder, her heart broke as Jemima blinked up and forced herself to give one of her sunny grins as tears slowly trickled from her eyes that shone underneath the ceiling light. Victoria practically recoiled in horror but a comforting smile still graced her face, if Jemima could fake normality when the world was crashing down around her then Victoria would be able to as well.

"We should call the police," Victoria said, surprised at the even quality in her voice, "A guy like that can't just be walking around freely, I mean, he's at Quaxo's now."

"He's at Quaxo's?" Jemima replied, her brow furrowed and her lips jutting out into a small frown. It was all too messy, there were too many people involved and she wanted to protect them all. But she wasn't clever and brave like Bombalurina, she wasn't collected and cool like Victoria. She'd spent the majority of her time in London trying to prove to herself and everyone around her that she could be useful and mature but she felt more like a child than she ever had before now as she stood, incapable of being able to find the right words to comfort her sister and unable to conjure up a plan to get everything back to normal. Victoria nodded, her heart sinking at the other girl's pained expression, as Jemima sighed and ran a hand through her hair, looking all too troubled and worried.

"You're right," Jemima mumbled, "Tomorrow. I'll call them tomorrow... Now get yourself to bed, you need to look fresh-faced and beautiful for your Creative Director guy tomorrow."

"Don't be silly, I can stay up."

"There's really no need," Victoria blinked in surprise as Jemima gave a small smile, "I can handle my sister for the evening, I'll keep an ear out for Quaxo too. I'll feel awful if you miss out on sleep because of this."

The blonde's mouth lay open slightly, ready to argue even though she felt her eyes get heavy under the weight of exhaustion, and then a far too responsible voice interrupted her retort and made Jemima physically tense.

"Jemima," Munkustrap said, "Is Demeter staying with you tonight? Because she says she's tired."

Victoria watched as her friend straightened her back and turned slightly on her heel with a smile spread across her face. She played calm well, Victoria noted, she almost convinced the blonde that she was anything but distraught in that moment. Munkustrap must have noticed too because there was no mirth in those brown eyes, no glimmer of Jemima in that smile.

"She can stay in my room," her voice confident despite the lump in her throat, "I'll sort it."

((A/N: That was a little darker than usual, I hope you guys don't mind too much ^^'))