ladytelemachus: My Father's Father
Author: thelastfig
Recipient: ladytelemachus
Title: My Father's Father
Rating: R
Word Count: 13,777
Pairings/Character(s): David Silva/Adam Johnson, Aleks Kolarov/Edin Dzeko, Joe Hart, Roberto Mancini, Kun Aguero, Pablo Zabaleta, Carlos Tevez, Micah Richards, Samir Nasri, James Milner, Vincent Kompany, Mario Balotelli
Warnings: none
Summary: A circus with a supernatural twist. A coal town in Appalachians. Two men who find themselves at the crossroads of duty to tradition and duty to themselves.
Beta'ed by: albion_lass and tempered_rose
Author's Notes: ladytelemachus, I know this is so far removed from anything you were thinking of receiving (because no one says 'I want to read a story about a supernatural circus set in 1881 in a coal mining town that also deals with trains'... I have an AU problem these days), and while it's not something you wanted, I hope you enjoy it.
The skies open around a striped tent in a torrential downpour as lightning illuminates the clouds. Occasional claps and the deep rumble of thunder can be heard. The winds pick up, tossing the branches of the trees back and forth as if waving frantically for some anchor to hold them still during the storm. The leaves, just beginning to change in color, are tossed in a multicolored swirl lost as they are thrown about, leaving a hint of their decaying scent behind them.
Inside the tent there is only silence.
In the darkness a drum begins to beat, slow at first but as bells and other metallic noises join the fray the tempo picks up until it becomes frantic. Fire bursts into existence in the center of the ring. It seems to float on the hands of the young man, rotating around his body as he moves and manipulates the fire in time with the drum. His moves are the tight line between graceful and savage, almost animalistic as he spins the fire in impossible ways drawing shrieks of terror and delight from the crowd. The flames dance around him, roaring and cutting patterns in the inky black until the song swells and the fire explodes outward. The audience gasps.
The thunderous applause blocks out any noise from the outside world.
*
The earliest years of his life are nothing more than a blur of color and sound. David remembers his mother and the happiness on her face when he was in her arms. At night he would watch from the shadows behind the curtain as she danced, weaving the fire around her and captivating the audience. Her beauty preceded her; the smell of flowers from admirers lingered in their wagon. He tied the flowers into crowns for her, and she would smile and kiss each of his tiny fingers and tell him she was blessed with the most thoughtful of sons. Sometimes at night she would point to the large map above their heads. Her fingers traced the path and told stories of an Island Empire where foxes could turn into beautiful women.
"Sometimes they even had human children," she would whisper into his ear as she pulled his blankets over him and kissed his forehead.
As she called the fire, the fire called in return. David doesn't remember much of those days as she grew thinner, skin yellowing and burning like the hottest parts of the fire. A crown of lilies was the last he gave her before the fire took her and she crumbled to ash, blown away on the wind. The fire came to David that night, consuming him with its relentless presence. As it burned through his veins and burned his lungs he wondered if he would be joining his mother soon. The flames burst out along his body, terrifying him as he watched his skin blister and melt from the heat until he could no longer take the pain and collapsed.
David awoke on the floor, nothing more than a scratch on his body.
*
Mancini's Magical Moving Museum of Manchester was once a hit on the European circuit. Billed as a museum, but truly a circus, Mancini housed oddities supposedly brought to life by magic. As the years passed, the demand for larger circus's and performances rendered Mancini's nearly obsolete, and the eccentric Italian moved his entire circus to the eastern seaboard of the United States. Here they found a country recovering from an internal war and an audience in dire need of forgetting the mundane nature of everyday life. David doesn't remember much of Europe; it's been fifteen years since Mancini brought his troupe of assorted waifs and strays over. Most of the performers of his mother's generation have moved on, either staying in Europe or joining with the larger circus's already roaming the States.
The replacements are different; as the wagons gave way to train coaches, as did the old performers give way to those who were more than a bit different. Once upon a time the performers spent years honing their gifts, always learning and developing new tricks to their trade. Mancini has spent years searching for each member of his traveling roadshow, rooting out each oddity and adding them to an already impressive lineup no matter the cost, another trick performing doll in his expensive collection. Like David, they all have something, a certain quality, which makes them unusual. They never ask each other about it, how they came to find their talent. David doesn't know how Edin can play the calliope by simply hovering his hands over the keys, nor does he ask Joe how it is his words can entice anyone into doing almost anything. He'll never understand how Samir can see someone's entire life, both past and present, just by looking at a few cards, and the knowledge of how Micah can lift items many times larger than him with just one hand will forever be lost on him. It isn't important that they know how, just that these unusual talents are part of who they are and that is enough.
A circus is an unusual family to be a part of. While they are a cohesive unit, there is still tension among them to secure time in the center of the ring. David never has to worry about being pushed to the back as the fires are what draw the crowds. Mancini doesn't travel with them anymore, but when he did he made it clear David was the main spectacle, the one who put money in their wallets. The old man sits in his mansion counting his money these days, waiting for the late fall when the circus returns for the winter.
*
Baltimore is always their last stop of the season. The wind from the harbor is cold and unforgiving this late into the fall, cutting into their skin when they leave the protection of the tents and train cars. David doesn't feel cold, but he has a far off recollection of it from before the fire came to him. He does know what numb feels like, and as he watches his co-workers who are exposed to the elements, he wonders how long it takes for the cold to turn to numb. A wry smile twists on his lips as James walks by his window without a coat on; David doubts James gives something as trivial as temperature time of day.
A knock comes at his door and not even five seconds later it's opened. Kun is nothing but boyish charm and energy and David wonders how he stays so happy and energetic. He takes David by the hand and pulls him out of his room into the hallway where the other two members of the Argentine Aerials, Carlos and Pablo, are waiting. They greet him warmly, chatting away in Spanish even though Kun reprimands them, telling them they will never be fluent in English if they always speak Spanish. David knows enough to get by, perhaps enough to hold a decent conversation, but he's long learned body language speaks louder than words can. A smile, a shy glance, a smoldering look, all say more than a simple utterance ever could.
As they enter the sky and dark blue striped tent, the light notes of the calliope wash over them. No one is sitting in front of the instrument on its ornate bench. Its player is leaning against a cage, fingers twitching in the air as if he were playing, eyes trained on the man throwing knives at a target in the center of the ring. In the cage a large panther sits, dark as night, tail flicking lazily in the air as it yawns. David opens the door to the cage and walks in, sitting down on a ragged blanket as the panther curls up beside him. The animal bats at David's hand as he flicks its ear before the air around it seems to blur and in the blink of an eye, a dark skinned man is sitting there instead. The man, child really, glowers at David as he shrugs, unphased by Mario's often eccentric behavior.
"Aleks, come here," Vincent enters the tent with the rest of their ragged crew, and the man throwing knives snaps his fingers; the knives fly neatly into his hands from where they were pinned on the target a moment earlier.
They gather around Vincent, the de facto leader in Mancini's absence. A flimsy piece of paper is in his hand, hope or misery in dots and dashes. Everyone wants to return to their winter home, the small town in the mountains where the circus stops until mid spring. David sees it in his mind; for eight months he's dreamed of a night without calling the fire, without being gawked at like a freak. He closes his eyes and remembers pale skin and the faint smell of oil and coal.
"We're going home," Vincent announces and everyone cheers. "The engine taking us will be here in two days."
David sighs, tension falling from his shoulders. Something nudges his hand and he sees Mario, now a tiger, batting at him with the top of his head begging for a scratch. David's lips turn into a wry grin as he rubs behind Mario's ears. The large cat purrs, noise coming deep within vibrating like an engine, eyes closed in contentment.
"I think I see a flea," Joe comes up behind them and Mario opens one eye before swatting at Joe, who dodges. To David, he says, "Excited to go home?"
"Is home the right word?" David looks up at Joe with a smile that is have guarded and half teasing.
Joe doesn't have an answer to that, and chooses to ruffle David's hair instead. David shimmies out of the ring master's grip and glares up at him. Joe just laughs and picks David up, earning laughs from the rest of the lads and a smoldering glare from David. When he finally sets David down, David lets Joe take a few steps before he blinks and a burst of fire explodes under Joe's feet. Joe yelps and jumps higher than David's seen. David wanders out of the tent with a satisfied grin on his face.
*
From the window seat in his room David watches as the swamps and marshes give way to rolling hills and eventually to mountains. The leaves here have already progressed to orange and deep reds; a natural, earthy fire produced as the leaves fall and die. They were just buds when the circus left in the spring, nothing more than promises of the lush greenery and the warm weather coming to sweep away the death of winter. As the geographical layout of the land changes so do the cities and people. Gone are the large metropolises, replaced instead by towns, villages, and the occasional desolate farmhouse. The finery of the cities is exchanged with the simplicity of the country. Beside the train the river runs as a constant companion; its muddy waters are orange where the runoff streams and tributaries from the coal mines join the main river bed. Gray skies are darkened with the occasional artificial black cloud.
The explosion of coal mines and mills are new. David remembers seeing a few when they first arrived from Europe, back when the river was muddy but rarely orange. Now the black smoke and colorful toxic runoff are around every bend. There has been an outburst of new mines and quarries in this so called second industrial revolution. New inventions, energy needed to support the machines spawned, more coal stripped from the earth; David sees the dark side of humanity's expansion scorched into the Appalachian countryside.
A knock comes at the door, and David calls for whoever it is to come in. Joe enters with two cups of tea and a 'hola' too heavy on the 'h' with the emphasis on the 'a'. David likes Joe best when he is by himself; he doesn't speak as fast and he is not as loud. He pushes into the window seat next to David, the fit tight but comfortable. David takes the cup Joe offers, tasting the milky tea on his tongue but not feeling its heat. For as much as the fire gives him, so too does it take; the only warmth he knows is what the fire gives him.
"I think everyone is worried," Joe says when half of his cup is gone and David is slouched against him. "No one wants you to leave."
"I didn't say I was leaving," David mumbles against Joe's shirt.
"Your silence says more than your words," Joe tells him with a shrug.
"Not like you."
Joe throws his head back as he laughs and wraps an arm around David. Outside the world rolls by, a mix of nature and what humans are capable of imparting on nature. It's a little after midday but the sky is dark from the smoke the mills produce.
"Samir says the cards-"
"Do you think it will grow back?" David interrupts, pointing to a mountain missing its trees, blasted away with dynamite and stripped of its coal.
"I don't know. I hope so. It's ugly like that."
David makes a little humming noise in agreement and says no more. The train weaves like a snake, winding along the riverbank. Each minute brings David closer, but to exactly what he doesn't know.
*
The rail yard sits on the edge of Briartown. The roundhouse and train depot were once painted a bright red, but like much of the West Virginian countryside, it's faded and has seen better days. The thirteen coaches that house the circus during their touring season are stored on the edge of the yard, colors bold in a harsh landscape. While they pack up their belongings before journeying to Carrington Manor in the carts that Mancini has sent for them, David lets Vincent know he'll join up with them later before stealing into the foggy night. Kun and Joe both call after him, but he ignores them as he follows the lone light of the candle in the depot window.
His footsteps don't make a sound as he reaches the depot and follows the wall to the back. A man is sitting in one of the rocking chairs, lantern beside him flickering and making his dark silhouette on the wall appear sinister. His eyes are closed, and for a moment David stands and watches the shadows from the flame dance along the man's pale skin before he sits on the edge of the porch and watches the moon rise in the night sky. The night is clear, but the smoke from the mills creates a thin shroud clouding the moon's light.
Something makes a sound, an owl hooting or perhaps a passing deer, and David startles from his thoughts. Behind him the man in the rocking chair shifts with a sigh, before coughing and waking up. David turns to look at him, to watch the realization on his face when he sees David sitting there. It goes from confusion, to a large smile, before it's all ruined by another cough.
"How long have you been sitting here?" the man asks him, standing up and wincing as his back pops.
"It doesn't matter," David tells him with a shrug. "I like watching you sleep."
That pulls a laugh from the man, Adam, who extends a hand to pull David up with. Adam's hands are always cold, perhaps because it is always winter when David sees him, but in David's burning hands, they are relief. Adam pulls David against him, whispering his name into his hair and clutching him as if he will never let go. He smells exactly how David remembers, of oil from the trains and coal from the mines, and now faintly of whiskey. The sharp scents are ones David would hate otherwise, but combined now on Adam's skin, David could care less.
"How... uh, how long?" Adam asks him, fingers wound in David's hair, lips pressed against his forehead. "I mean, can you, uh..."
"I can stay for a little while," David presses a kiss against Adam's jaw. "Upstairs?"
Adam gives him a half wanting, half sleepy grin. David returns his smile, trailing Adam into the depot and up the stairs. As they are pressed against each other in the darkness, David blocks out everything else and surrounds himself with only Adam.
*
The jars on the wooden counter reflect the sunlight shining in through the window. Each contains a different candy of sorts, a bright rainbow of colors beckoning anyone with a sweet tooth. Adam stares at the glass jars, at the red peppermint sticks and the yellow lemon drops, and runs his finger over the two nickels in his pocket. He’s helped his mother in the kitchen, completed all the reading and writing his father set aside for him to earn this treat, worked in the depot; his mouth waters as he tries to make up his mind about what candies he wants.
The bell over the front door clinks delicately and Adam absentmindedly steps to the side to allow whoever it is access to the order counter while he makes up his mind. He is pulled from his deep musing of butterscotch or lemon drops when he hears the soft, accented words of the person who has just entered the store. A boy, smaller and infinitely more delicate looking than Adam, is standing next to him, handing a list to the grocer. Briartown is small enough for Adam to have never known any boys his own age, some a few years older and some a few years younger, and the thought of someone new to speak to is exciting.
"Hello," he says brightly, smile not falling as the boy looks at him with suspicion in his dark eyes. "My name is Adam."
The boy is silent for a minute and Adam wonders if he’s just going to stare at Adam and not say anything before he says, "I am David. My English no good."
The grocer returns and hands David a few bags to which David pays for with exact change. David spares Adam a tight semblance of a smile before turning to leave, bags and packages balanced precariously in his arms. Adam watches him go before only spending one of his nickels on lemon drops. Shoving the bag in his pocket, he rushes after David, calling for him to wait. After a stilted, mostly one-sided conversation which involves a lot of awkward gesturing, David allows Adam to help him carry his bags home. Except Adam doesn’t know where home is and when they end up standing outside of the old mansion on the outskirts of town, Adam stands there gaping for a moment.
"You live here?" Adam stutters, staring up at the imposing structure.
David is spared from answering when another boy, much taller than either of them, appears out of nowhere with a large grin on his face. He ruffles David’s hair; David scowls and swats his hand away.
"Thank you," David tells Adam, a bright grin appearing for the first time on his face as the other boy takes his bags.
"You’re welcome," Adam responds, handing his bag to the taller boy, who quickly introduces himself as Joe before disappearing again. "Do you want a piece?"
From his pocket, Adam pulls his candy and holds them out for David to choose from. David blinks up at Adam for a minute as if unsure what the candy is. Adam smiles at him and pops a piece in his mouth; David mirrors his motion, sniffing at the yellow orb before popping it in his mouth. Adam reckons David isn’t expecting the sour taste as he purses his lips and his eyes widen in surprise. He can’t stop the laugh that escapes his mouth and when David reaches out to pinch him, he darts to the side before taking off, David running after him and yelling at him in words he doesn’t need to know to understand.
*
The wind rattles the window pane, errant leaves occasionally scraping by it. The coal in the furnace in the corner of the room is burning low, barely more than embers, but David tells it to stay strong and keep Adam warm as long as possible. David waits until Adam is asleep, breaths deep and steady, before slipping from the bed and dressing. This thinly veiled subterfuge is nothing more than David's way of avoiding the disappointment set in Adam's face when he leaves. Adam will awake alone in the morning, as he does when David is not here, and they'll both carry on wishing the other was with them as they have for the past six years.
As he steals away from the depot for the few miles walk to Carrington, his eyes take in the changes of Briartown. There are a few more stores now, and the dirt road seems harder trotted. The old burned house still stands, a forgotten monument to the founders of the town thoughtfully set far enough away for people to ignore. The mine is a few years old, but now there is a track parallel to the road running to it to make transporting coal more efficient. David knows if he follows the road he'll more than likely see even more development, but he'll save his curiosity for another day. Right now the wind beckons him on, nudging at him but unable to steal any of the constant warmth burning inside of him.
The road before him ends where another begins. A large iron gate, foolishly elaborate though just as effective at keeping unwanted eyes away, stands in front of him. Reaching up to check the lock, he finds it is unlocked and pushes it open. The black gate silently glides in front of him like a wraith before he stops and closes it, making sure to latch it. The road goes from wild and unkempt to precisely manicured; the lane ahead of him is eerily silent and dark. Lifting his hand, a flame flickers to life and grows until it is a ball a few inches wide. David pushes the ball out in front of him, using it to guide his way and provide light in the inky night. The moon is behind the trees and useless from the mill's pollution; David remembers when the moon was nearly always visible here.
Carrington rears up suddenly, a stone behemoth in the hills and trees of the Appalachians. Three stories of gray stone sit partially consumed by ivy, the light of candles in a few rooms winking at David as he approaches. Slinking around back, he finds the cook and maids still at work cleaning after dinner and they smile at him, pushing food and drinks at him as they pet his hair and pinch his cheeks. He answers their questions in between bites; they've seen him grown from a shy child into a man and are fond of him. David makes sure the fires in the kitchen are burning hot to keep them warm before he steals away to his room.
The halls are constructed of a dark wood, each surface cleaned and polished, gleaming at David as he walks by in the dark; he knows Carrington well enough to not require light. There is still some noise on the second floor in a few of the rooms where shadows under the door tell him who is awake. There are enough rooms in the large manor to house the entire circus, but some prefer their privacy and choose to sleep in the old detached servants quarters. David does not have the luxury of privacy. He continues up the staircase to the third floor.
There are three rooms on the third floor: David's room, Vincent's room, and the large master suite Mancini inhabits. His hand isn't even on the doorknob before he hears his name called. Taking a deep breath, he turns to face his keeper. Mancini, Roberto, stands in the doorway of his room, bright lights behind him throwing his elongated shadow into the dark hallway. His skin looks like parchment, like he hasn't seen the sun in a long time, and his eyes seem sunken. David feels uneasy when the circus owner stares at him, as if Roberto has something he wants to say to David but never does. Whatever it is, it forms a barrier between them that language, time, and space have been unable to break.
"Hello, sir," David quietly murmurs, not wanting to wake Vincent, whose light is out, at this hour. "How have you been?"
"David," Roberto repeats again, crossing the space between them and pulling David into a stiff embrace. "I'm good. I've missed you."
David returns the awkward hug, patting Roberto on the back. "Tired." David answers. "It was a long season."
"I'm glad you are home. Sleep now, we'll speak in the morning."
David's limbs seem to move without him telling them to. He gives Roberto a hint of a smile and bids him good night before entering his room. The room smells dusty with disuse; it's been eight months since he's slept here and even then it wasn't very often. Marionettes line the walls, left over from when he was a child and Roberto would gift them to him when he retired them from an act. Like the rest of the circus, Roberto too has a talent. These dolls have no strings. David feels like his puppet, invisible strings lax but pulled from afar, on a stage which is both his haven and cage.
*
When David was a small child, Roberto was one of the main attractions of the circus. Back then, Roberto's father owned the circus and his son was only a puppet master. When his mother was busy, either learning new dances or entertaining admirers, Roberto would often sit with him and entertain him with his marionettes, making them dance and play with David. There weren't very many children then; at least not many who weren't abandoned on the doorsteps of churches or left to face crueler fates. And unlike some of the other children, David knew he was loved by his mother and in turn by those who loved her.
The morning after she passed it was Roberto who came to him and told him it would be he who would watch after David now. But in between practicing with the marionettes and running the business side of the circus for his father, Roberto did not have much time to spend with David. David's isolation from the world outside of the circus led to his dependency on his mother, a bond which did not fully transfer to Roberto. The link is there, dusty and rusting through, but there nonetheless and David cannot find the courage within himself to leave. It is a strange and demented relationship, often taking the guise of a father and son, but with a mental partition time cannot erode separating them.
When David awakes it's to the sound of a crow outside his window and a knocking on his door. His door does not have locks, and the butler lets himself in. Chapman, Chappy, was once a clown in the circus and now runs the household at Carrington. David is partial to Chappy, who leaves the gate and back door open for him when he slinks in and out at night, and covers for him when Roberto wants to see him. Today Chappy strolls into his room with a pitcher of steaming water and pours it into a basin for David to wash himself with. David has known Chappy his entire life, but he still finds it hard to understand the heavy northern English accent he speaks with. As he pulls himself from the warmth of his bed and splashes water on his face, he listens to Chappy gossip about the town and answers his inquiries about the season the circus has had.
"Signore Mancini would like for you to have breakfast with him," Chappy tells David when he finishes washing his face. Going to David's wardrobe, he pulls out a shirt, waistcoat, and pair of trousers; David wrinkles his nose at the more formal clothing. "You know he prefers these clothing when you're at home."
David goes through the motions of a marionette. Stand still, wear what your puppeteer choses, move your limbs only when the strings are pulled; David puts on the smile he knows Roberto would like to see. Chappy helps him comb his hair into place before leading him into Roberto's private dining room. David lifts his arms to return the hug Roberto gives him, lifeless like a doll, before sitting woodenly at the table across from him. When Roberto asks him a question, David answers, telling him just what he wants to hear. The marionette must always do as the puppet master commands.
"David," Roberto sighs as one of the maids clears their plates and leaves a tea service on the table for them.
"Yes sir?" David asks when Roberto doesn't continue but simple stares at him with dull green eyes.
"Are you happy?"
David takes a moment to think. He is not unhappy, nor can he describe any other emotion he is feeling right now except perhaps a little uncomfortable and not in control of his life. No one is ever completely in control of their life, and David knows his struggles are comparatively insignificant; David has seen the faces of hunger, of fear, of people who have nothing. The only reason David was not abandoned on the streets after his mother's death was because of the man sitting across from him.
"I am content," David deflects the question as inside of him the fire burns, yearning for a freedom David will not give it. "I apologize if I seem otherwise."
Roberto pours tea for them. David watches as the steam curls up in tendrils before disappearing into the space between them. He adds a hint of milk, just enough for the steam to stop rising, before he takes a sip. Roberto watches him the entire time.
"I promised your mother I would be your family and you would be happy," Roberto says after a few more minutes of silence pass.
David looks up from his tea cup. Setting it down, he reaches across the small table and places a tentative hand over Roberto's. The wrinkles around Roberto's eyes crinkle when he smiles at David and David smiles back, this time genuine. Roberto has given him more than anyone else would ever have. For now, David will mollify himself with a gilded cage.
*
The smell of coal, earthy with a hint of sulfur, is faint but saturated into everything. Nowhere in this part of Appalachia is free from the scent be it in houses, clothing, or in the air around them. As David brings a bucket of water in from the well for the ladies in the kitchen to use, he tries to remember a time when the air was clear. He can't.
When the sun sets, the smog and pollution in the air makes the rays hazy and distorted, the colors are warped from what he is used to. Every few hours the unpleasant screech of one of the mines’ whistles echoes down the hills; David waits until the second lunch whistle blows before he returns to his room and grabs his bag. He packs a change of clothing and carefully tucks two packages in between a blanket. The wind hasn't picked up today, but up here in the mountains David knows the weather can change faster than the blink of an eye. Wrapping a scarf around his neck and pulling his heavy boots and a pair of thick gloves on, he slinks down the back staircase so no one will see him. As he grabs his coat from one of the closets, a noise comes from behind him and he turns to see Joe grinning at him.
"Mancini know you're slinking off?" Joe asks and David makes a rude gesture with his hand. "You're in a right mood I see."
"Don't say anything," David mumbles as he puts his coat on, buttoning it up so if it rains he doesn't become soaked.
"You know I wouldn't," Joe catches David's wrist before he can disappear. "How is he?"
"Cold." David makes sure his bag is tightly fastened before he hoists it onto his back.
Joe frowns. "Still?"
David shrugs, not really knowing what to say. Adam hasn't lit more coal than necessary to keep him alive for the past six years, certainly not enough to ever have a flame fire burning instead of a few glowing embers. If anyone has noticed the boarded over fireplaces of the train depot, they've been too polite to say anything. Joe doesn't say anything else, but pulls on his coat and walks down the lane to the gate with David. David is older, but Joe always makes him feel like a child when he checks David's scarf and hat to make sure he is warm even though David doesn't know what cold is. It's a useless gesture, but David hugs Joe nonetheless and lets him open the gate for him. He promises to be back by the following afternoon; both of them know David's never good at keeping track of time, especially when Adam is concerned.
In the light of the setting sun David walks as quickly as possible toward Briartown. The leafless branches of the trees around him twist toward the sky in a dead reach for something better. The trees look darker than they actually are; even the trees are not free of the ever-present coal dust and David wonders if the springtime flowers turn black. He hurries along, not tarrying in town. David does his best to ignore the whispers of the folk around him who take his appearance as an affirmation those people are back in town. Relations between the town natives and the circus have never been bad, but there have been strained moments. David tries not to snicker as he thinks of Mario, angry at Mancini for one reason or another, running through town as a lion.
The train depot is on the far end of the main road with 'Briartown' fading placard above the doors on both the entrance to the station and the side platform. The light in the waiting room on the ground floor is out, so David walks around to the back porch and finds Adam waiting for him. The way a smile can spread across Adam's face when he sees David sends the only chills David knows through his body; when Adam looks at him David feels like nothing outside of the two of them exists.
"I was wondering if you would come, I thought you had forgotten about me," Adam tries to sound put out, but he can't fake anything in front of David and he ends up stuttering and David laughs. "Come on."
There's still too much light for David to take Adam's hand and pull him against him out in the open. His own reputation is nothing to him, but David would sooner hurt himself than let any harm come to Adam's. Adam opens the door and once again David finds himself following Adam inside. They don't jump head first into carnality, rather David allows Adam to kiss him slowly as if time was never a constraint. Adam carefully pulls David's clothing off as if he is a fragile present which must be unwrapped with the utmost care. His touches are soft but clumsy; David bites his lip and smiles to himself when Adam whispers in Spanish and it comes out jumbled and incomprehensible. Between his strong accent and perchance to mumble, it is rare when Adam's Spanish is passable. Only when he is finished making David forget how to think properly and lays his hand on David's chest and murmurs 'corazon' does David think perhaps Adam is getting somewhere.
*
David's English is filled with incorrect grammar picked up from the other non-native English speakers as well as colloquialisms from the native speaks who surround him. When he says the season was decent, Adam laughs and tells him he spends too much time with Joe. It takes a while for David to describe the different cities they traveled to this year, the old staples as well as the new ones. The circus traveled as far north as Boston, all the way down to Atlanta and Savannah, across to New Orleans, and then back up to Chicago before returning to the coast to visit the new Atlantic City and finishing the season in Baltimore. There were nights in smaller towns along the way, places not big enough for the few weeks of performances but large enough for a night or two. Adam's eyes are large as he listens to David's stories, the smile on his lips just on the wistful side.
The sun has been down for hours when David is finished telling his stories, the world outside the window is black as pitch. Adam lays in bed the entire time, enveloped by blankets, as David sits with his back against the headboard, skin bare but lost to the shadows. The only illumination is what their eyes can pick out; what David doesn't see, his mind fills in from years of study. As he lays back down, his fingers trace the lines of Adam's face so he can strengthen his memory and feel what has changed.
"Can you stay?" Adam's breath brushes against David's cheek. David tenses and Adam feels the change immediately, "I mean tonight. Please, David?"
David had planned to stay and wants so badly to say yes. He pulls his hand down from Adam's face and rests it against the smooth skin of his chest. This is what David wants, more than anything, but what is a want and what is reality are not the same thing. As in nature, they follow a cyclical pattern which repeats itself every year. David spends the spring, summer, and early fall with the circus, returning to Adam to spend the cold and lifeless winter. But even here David is not with Adam; only when he is able to sneak away or Roberto is away from the mansion is David able to see Adam.
"I brought you something," David pulls out of Adam's arms and crosses the room to where his bag is propped on a chair. "It is new; I don't think you have it yet."
Across the room the lantern springs to life. David turns and hands the two packages to Adam, watching as he carefully unwraps a book and a bag of candy, careful to stay far enough away from Adam's reach. The Portrait of a Lady was hard to find in the weeks after its publication, but David found it sitting on the dusty shelf of a bookstore tucked away in the Baltimore alleys. Adam has always been a reader, devouring one book after the other, but for the past few years David has noticed the number of books on Adam's shelves has barely increased. David cannot read beyond basic words in English, but Adam summarizes each novel for him, painting a story in his own words.
"Thank you," Adam mumbles, places both on his bedside table, before his eyes dart toward the lantern on the table. "Can you...?"
The fire in the lantern is extinguished before Adam finishes his sentence. David crawls back into bed beside him, but both of them know as soon as Adam falls asleep, David will be gone.
*
A large barn sits back a ways behind the manor close to the servant's quarters. It serves as a practice ring for the circus in the off-season, and today David sits on one of the benches watching Aleks throw various objects around a dummy sitting in front of a target board. Edin is sitting next to him absentmindedly humming the tune of the new sheet music in his hand. There's a goofy grin on his face as Edin goes back and forth between watching Aleks and studying each sheet. David observes as Edin runs his hands over each note on the staff; the ink disappears under his fingertips. Standing from the bench Edin walks over to the piano adjacent to the ring. He doesn't touch the faded ivory keys but the piano begins to play, keys pressing down as if a ghost were there performing the melancholic melody drifting over them.
David holds his hands in front of him and from his palms a blue flame in the shape of a bird appears. It flaps its wings and stares at him with a tilted head before flickering and disappearing. He frowns and calls to the fire. Flames lick his hands before disappearing again. Over and over he calls, but the fire only comes for a few seconds if at all. His heart races and his hands begin to shake as he feels the cold of the winter seeping into his bones for the first time. In the background he's faintly aware the music has stopped playing and Edin is talking to him, but he doesn't hear him. David can feel the fire still, but its grown small and weak in the tumultuous wind surrounding him.
Aleks wraps an arm around him, sitting on the bench next to him and Edin mirrors him. In between the two larger men the cold is warded off. David looks down at the floor, not sure what to say. Edin just ruffles his hair and the piano begins to play again, a lighter song of spring despite the cold outside, and soon flowers begin to sprout from the floor. Light shines in from invisible windows and David almost thinks he can feel the warmth of the sun. A carpet of green sprout beneath their feet and the bench turns into a soft chaise. It's an idealistic world where humans can't hurt the earth, each other, or themselves, and that is how David knows it's not real.
"Thank you," he tells Aleks, who nods and slowly lets the illusion disappear.
"If you keep it here," the often stoic man taps a strong finger above David's heart, "you will never lose it."
"What if it's lost?" David mumbles, as Edin rubs circles onto his back.
"It's never lost, only forgotten."
David sees a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. Raising his head he sees Roberto watching the three of them with a blank expression on his face. He pops something into his mouth, David is sure it's one of the fruit pastilles he has sent over from Europe, before turning and walking back toward the manor. David feels the strings around him tighten.
*
A drought encases the deep South making travel impossible, and the circus returns to the cooler mountains of Briartown for a few weeks of rest before they'll travel to Chicago. It's been four years now that Adam has known David, and this is the first summer they've had time together. The sun looks good on him, coaxing a darker tone out of his skin the winter likes to hide. It draws his freckles out, draws them across his nose. Adam likes the way David smiles when he looks up at the blue sky and then back at him. There are circles under his eyes this year, his first performing instead of just assisting, but he looks happy when he leaves Carrington and explores the mountains with Adam. Sometimes it makes Adam a little uneasy when he notices these changes in David, but when David laughs or asks him something with an inquisitive look in his eyes, Adam forgets everything.
Today they've taken a row boat upriver close to where an old mine has been abandoned. Despite warnings from Adam's father and Roberto to never go near abandoned tunnels, they find themselves exploring them anyway. Most of the old shafts are boarded up or collapsed to prevent anyone from wandering in, but they find rotted wood and other openings allowing them access. It takes Adam a few minutes to a light a match to light the lantern, and they all end up going out. David takes the box from him and has one lit in a few seconds; Adam pinches him and calls him a cheater as David grins impishly.
"We could live down here," Adam tells him when they emerge covered in coal dust and dirt hours later. "I wouldn't go to the University, you wouldn't have to go with the circus."
"You want to go to the University," Adam loves the way David's accent makes words dance in ways he'd never imagine. "It is the only thing you speak of."
Adam doesn't tell David the University is the only thing he speaks of because the only other item of interest in his life is David.
The river is cold, but the sun is hot as it dries them after washing themselves in a creek. They lay in its offered warmth talking about trivial things neither will remember. Adam doesn't really care; he's more than happy to spend time with David. As the heat makes them drowsy, Adam is able to coax tales of the road from David. What Adam imagines to be an adventure sounds mundane and normal in David's life. He learns a bulk of David's stress comes from not mastering his trade, something to do with fire but David never lets Adam watch. It upsets him sometimes when he thinks David doesn't trust him or think highly enough of his opinion, but he sees the self-doubt David lives in and understands why he wouldn't want anyone else to judge.
The sun begins a downward arc in the sky and they reluctantly agree to turn homeward. Adam's not sure how it happens. One minute they're walking up a hill back toward the river and the next the earth begins to shake. Adam sees nothing but the world spinning around him for a moment before the air is knocked from his lungs and the sky above him is replaced by a cloud of black smoke. He doesn't move for a minute, trying to make sense of what has happened. Then, he wiggles his toes and fingers to make sure he can feel them before moving the rest of his body. Adam's head spins in the mix of light and dark and the coal dust still in the air is suffocating.
"David?" He coughs out, sitting up and trying to look around him.
Adam's stomach drops to his knees; their lantern has broken and ignited a bit of coal on the ground. He looks around for a way to put it out, but there is nothing around them except the remnants of a collapsed tunnel and the hole through which they fell. A hole neither of them will be able to reach. The coal hisses, and the glow begins to spread, winding like an angry red snake.
"David, where are you?" He calls out again as he pushes himself to his feet and winces at the pain. "David?"
He hears coughing a few feet away and can only see part of David. The rest of him is obscured by a large amount of dirt which has fallen on him. Adam hobbles over to David and begins to dig him out as fast as he can, fingertips and nails ripping and tearing on the rocks and pieces of wood in the rubble. When he can see David's knees, he pulls him up and onto his feet. By now the smoke from the fire has begun to fill the small chamber and both are coughing. Adam tries to stop it with the loose dirt, but it has already spread too far and burns too hot for him to approach. Stumbling backward, he shields his face from the heat and takes David's hand, pushing David behind him to protect him.
Maybe it's the smoke inhalation, or maybe he hit his head when he fell, but the potential coal seam fire begins to fade and eventually disappears. Adam looks around bewildered, confused as what just happened, before he feels a pull on his hand and sees David has collapsed to his knees. The hand not in Adam's is extended outward and at his fingertips, a small fire burns; David closes his hand and the fire is gone without a trace.
When the circus leaves for Chicago, David writes to Adam and tells him he's finally mastered his act; all he needed was a reason why.
*
Snow begins to fall the first week of December, clean flakes whitewashing the polluted countryside. As the snow covers the signs of destruction outside, inside David keeps to his room and feigns exhaustion for the long touring season. He doubts anyone believes him, but they know him well enough to leave him alone with this thoughts.
David's fatigue comes not from travels with the circus, but years of ignoring problems which have now bored deeper into his life. Like the ever changing landscape outside, David remembers when problems were small enough to be overlooked and ignored. The earth was not always scored; the rivers were not always dead.
The snow stops falling. The ash and dust from the mines and mills begin to coat the snow and ice. As the sun sets, color is leached from the world as everything fades to black.
*
The mine has expanded since they've been home last. Kun asks David if he'd like to go for a walk one day, and they wander toward the sounds of commotion. A stray cat follows them, and David wonders if Mario thinks he's fooling either of them. Kun is easy to talk to, straight forward and full of no presumptions; David finds himself smiling for the first time in a long while.
A few miles outside of town the picturesque trees and hills give way to a barren wasteland stripped of anything natural. A small miner's shanty town has sprung up around the mine, clapboard houses flimsy and as dark as their surroundings. The smokestack from the large boiler belches smokes into the air. They watch as grayed men walk into the tunnels and darker men come out.
"Sometimes I hate what we do," Kun tells him, smile gone as he surveys the scene beneath him, "but then I see this."
David wonders if trading one cage for another is freeing or just as restraining. He supposed someone could fool themselves into thinking an existence is free, but he knows the bars are there if you know to look for them. There is always something better and likewise there is always something worse, the only thing that changes is perspective.
"What's that for?" Kun points to a man carrying a small bird cage.
"A canary," David tells him. "They use them to see if the air if safe. If they die, the miners know to leave."
The cat, who had previously been winding itself around David's legs, sits down next to him and looks up. David doesn't know if cats can grin, but he's pretty sure this one can. It springs lithely to its feet and stalks down toward the livestock, ignoring the chicken coops and pigsties in favor of the large birdhouse. No one pays the cat any mind as it looks like the rest of the strays wandering about. It waits until there are no humans close enough before hopping onto the ledge of the birdhouse and batting the peg holding the door shut out of place. David and Kun watch as a dozen or so of the bright yellow birds burst free of their cage and scatter toward the sky before anyone realizes what has happened. The cat returns, ambling slowly with only a swagger Mario could pull off. Kun laughs and pulls the cat up into his arms, carrying him safely up out of the snow.
part two
Recipient: ladytelemachus
Title: My Father's Father
Rating: R
Word Count: 13,777
Pairings/Character(s): David Silva/Adam Johnson, Aleks Kolarov/Edin Dzeko, Joe Hart, Roberto Mancini, Kun Aguero, Pablo Zabaleta, Carlos Tevez, Micah Richards, Samir Nasri, James Milner, Vincent Kompany, Mario Balotelli
Warnings: none
Summary: A circus with a supernatural twist. A coal town in Appalachians. Two men who find themselves at the crossroads of duty to tradition and duty to themselves.
Beta'ed by: albion_lass and tempered_rose
Author's Notes: ladytelemachus, I know this is so far removed from anything you were thinking of receiving (because no one says 'I want to read a story about a supernatural circus set in 1881 in a coal mining town that also deals with trains'... I have an AU problem these days), and while it's not something you wanted, I hope you enjoy it.
The skies open around a striped tent in a torrential downpour as lightning illuminates the clouds. Occasional claps and the deep rumble of thunder can be heard. The winds pick up, tossing the branches of the trees back and forth as if waving frantically for some anchor to hold them still during the storm. The leaves, just beginning to change in color, are tossed in a multicolored swirl lost as they are thrown about, leaving a hint of their decaying scent behind them.
Inside the tent there is only silence.
In the darkness a drum begins to beat, slow at first but as bells and other metallic noises join the fray the tempo picks up until it becomes frantic. Fire bursts into existence in the center of the ring. It seems to float on the hands of the young man, rotating around his body as he moves and manipulates the fire in time with the drum. His moves are the tight line between graceful and savage, almost animalistic as he spins the fire in impossible ways drawing shrieks of terror and delight from the crowd. The flames dance around him, roaring and cutting patterns in the inky black until the song swells and the fire explodes outward. The audience gasps.
The thunderous applause blocks out any noise from the outside world.
*
The earliest years of his life are nothing more than a blur of color and sound. David remembers his mother and the happiness on her face when he was in her arms. At night he would watch from the shadows behind the curtain as she danced, weaving the fire around her and captivating the audience. Her beauty preceded her; the smell of flowers from admirers lingered in their wagon. He tied the flowers into crowns for her, and she would smile and kiss each of his tiny fingers and tell him she was blessed with the most thoughtful of sons. Sometimes at night she would point to the large map above their heads. Her fingers traced the path and told stories of an Island Empire where foxes could turn into beautiful women.
"Sometimes they even had human children," she would whisper into his ear as she pulled his blankets over him and kissed his forehead.
As she called the fire, the fire called in return. David doesn't remember much of those days as she grew thinner, skin yellowing and burning like the hottest parts of the fire. A crown of lilies was the last he gave her before the fire took her and she crumbled to ash, blown away on the wind. The fire came to David that night, consuming him with its relentless presence. As it burned through his veins and burned his lungs he wondered if he would be joining his mother soon. The flames burst out along his body, terrifying him as he watched his skin blister and melt from the heat until he could no longer take the pain and collapsed.
David awoke on the floor, nothing more than a scratch on his body.
*
Mancini's Magical Moving Museum of Manchester was once a hit on the European circuit. Billed as a museum, but truly a circus, Mancini housed oddities supposedly brought to life by magic. As the years passed, the demand for larger circus's and performances rendered Mancini's nearly obsolete, and the eccentric Italian moved his entire circus to the eastern seaboard of the United States. Here they found a country recovering from an internal war and an audience in dire need of forgetting the mundane nature of everyday life. David doesn't remember much of Europe; it's been fifteen years since Mancini brought his troupe of assorted waifs and strays over. Most of the performers of his mother's generation have moved on, either staying in Europe or joining with the larger circus's already roaming the States.
The replacements are different; as the wagons gave way to train coaches, as did the old performers give way to those who were more than a bit different. Once upon a time the performers spent years honing their gifts, always learning and developing new tricks to their trade. Mancini has spent years searching for each member of his traveling roadshow, rooting out each oddity and adding them to an already impressive lineup no matter the cost, another trick performing doll in his expensive collection. Like David, they all have something, a certain quality, which makes them unusual. They never ask each other about it, how they came to find their talent. David doesn't know how Edin can play the calliope by simply hovering his hands over the keys, nor does he ask Joe how it is his words can entice anyone into doing almost anything. He'll never understand how Samir can see someone's entire life, both past and present, just by looking at a few cards, and the knowledge of how Micah can lift items many times larger than him with just one hand will forever be lost on him. It isn't important that they know how, just that these unusual talents are part of who they are and that is enough.
A circus is an unusual family to be a part of. While they are a cohesive unit, there is still tension among them to secure time in the center of the ring. David never has to worry about being pushed to the back as the fires are what draw the crowds. Mancini doesn't travel with them anymore, but when he did he made it clear David was the main spectacle, the one who put money in their wallets. The old man sits in his mansion counting his money these days, waiting for the late fall when the circus returns for the winter.
*
Baltimore is always their last stop of the season. The wind from the harbor is cold and unforgiving this late into the fall, cutting into their skin when they leave the protection of the tents and train cars. David doesn't feel cold, but he has a far off recollection of it from before the fire came to him. He does know what numb feels like, and as he watches his co-workers who are exposed to the elements, he wonders how long it takes for the cold to turn to numb. A wry smile twists on his lips as James walks by his window without a coat on; David doubts James gives something as trivial as temperature time of day.
A knock comes at his door and not even five seconds later it's opened. Kun is nothing but boyish charm and energy and David wonders how he stays so happy and energetic. He takes David by the hand and pulls him out of his room into the hallway where the other two members of the Argentine Aerials, Carlos and Pablo, are waiting. They greet him warmly, chatting away in Spanish even though Kun reprimands them, telling them they will never be fluent in English if they always speak Spanish. David knows enough to get by, perhaps enough to hold a decent conversation, but he's long learned body language speaks louder than words can. A smile, a shy glance, a smoldering look, all say more than a simple utterance ever could.
As they enter the sky and dark blue striped tent, the light notes of the calliope wash over them. No one is sitting in front of the instrument on its ornate bench. Its player is leaning against a cage, fingers twitching in the air as if he were playing, eyes trained on the man throwing knives at a target in the center of the ring. In the cage a large panther sits, dark as night, tail flicking lazily in the air as it yawns. David opens the door to the cage and walks in, sitting down on a ragged blanket as the panther curls up beside him. The animal bats at David's hand as he flicks its ear before the air around it seems to blur and in the blink of an eye, a dark skinned man is sitting there instead. The man, child really, glowers at David as he shrugs, unphased by Mario's often eccentric behavior.
"Aleks, come here," Vincent enters the tent with the rest of their ragged crew, and the man throwing knives snaps his fingers; the knives fly neatly into his hands from where they were pinned on the target a moment earlier.
They gather around Vincent, the de facto leader in Mancini's absence. A flimsy piece of paper is in his hand, hope or misery in dots and dashes. Everyone wants to return to their winter home, the small town in the mountains where the circus stops until mid spring. David sees it in his mind; for eight months he's dreamed of a night without calling the fire, without being gawked at like a freak. He closes his eyes and remembers pale skin and the faint smell of oil and coal.
"We're going home," Vincent announces and everyone cheers. "The engine taking us will be here in two days."
David sighs, tension falling from his shoulders. Something nudges his hand and he sees Mario, now a tiger, batting at him with the top of his head begging for a scratch. David's lips turn into a wry grin as he rubs behind Mario's ears. The large cat purrs, noise coming deep within vibrating like an engine, eyes closed in contentment.
"I think I see a flea," Joe comes up behind them and Mario opens one eye before swatting at Joe, who dodges. To David, he says, "Excited to go home?"
"Is home the right word?" David looks up at Joe with a smile that is have guarded and half teasing.
Joe doesn't have an answer to that, and chooses to ruffle David's hair instead. David shimmies out of the ring master's grip and glares up at him. Joe just laughs and picks David up, earning laughs from the rest of the lads and a smoldering glare from David. When he finally sets David down, David lets Joe take a few steps before he blinks and a burst of fire explodes under Joe's feet. Joe yelps and jumps higher than David's seen. David wanders out of the tent with a satisfied grin on his face.
*
From the window seat in his room David watches as the swamps and marshes give way to rolling hills and eventually to mountains. The leaves here have already progressed to orange and deep reds; a natural, earthy fire produced as the leaves fall and die. They were just buds when the circus left in the spring, nothing more than promises of the lush greenery and the warm weather coming to sweep away the death of winter. As the geographical layout of the land changes so do the cities and people. Gone are the large metropolises, replaced instead by towns, villages, and the occasional desolate farmhouse. The finery of the cities is exchanged with the simplicity of the country. Beside the train the river runs as a constant companion; its muddy waters are orange where the runoff streams and tributaries from the coal mines join the main river bed. Gray skies are darkened with the occasional artificial black cloud.
The explosion of coal mines and mills are new. David remembers seeing a few when they first arrived from Europe, back when the river was muddy but rarely orange. Now the black smoke and colorful toxic runoff are around every bend. There has been an outburst of new mines and quarries in this so called second industrial revolution. New inventions, energy needed to support the machines spawned, more coal stripped from the earth; David sees the dark side of humanity's expansion scorched into the Appalachian countryside.
A knock comes at the door, and David calls for whoever it is to come in. Joe enters with two cups of tea and a 'hola' too heavy on the 'h' with the emphasis on the 'a'. David likes Joe best when he is by himself; he doesn't speak as fast and he is not as loud. He pushes into the window seat next to David, the fit tight but comfortable. David takes the cup Joe offers, tasting the milky tea on his tongue but not feeling its heat. For as much as the fire gives him, so too does it take; the only warmth he knows is what the fire gives him.
"I think everyone is worried," Joe says when half of his cup is gone and David is slouched against him. "No one wants you to leave."
"I didn't say I was leaving," David mumbles against Joe's shirt.
"Your silence says more than your words," Joe tells him with a shrug.
"Not like you."
Joe throws his head back as he laughs and wraps an arm around David. Outside the world rolls by, a mix of nature and what humans are capable of imparting on nature. It's a little after midday but the sky is dark from the smoke the mills produce.
"Samir says the cards-"
"Do you think it will grow back?" David interrupts, pointing to a mountain missing its trees, blasted away with dynamite and stripped of its coal.
"I don't know. I hope so. It's ugly like that."
David makes a little humming noise in agreement and says no more. The train weaves like a snake, winding along the riverbank. Each minute brings David closer, but to exactly what he doesn't know.
*
The rail yard sits on the edge of Briartown. The roundhouse and train depot were once painted a bright red, but like much of the West Virginian countryside, it's faded and has seen better days. The thirteen coaches that house the circus during their touring season are stored on the edge of the yard, colors bold in a harsh landscape. While they pack up their belongings before journeying to Carrington Manor in the carts that Mancini has sent for them, David lets Vincent know he'll join up with them later before stealing into the foggy night. Kun and Joe both call after him, but he ignores them as he follows the lone light of the candle in the depot window.
His footsteps don't make a sound as he reaches the depot and follows the wall to the back. A man is sitting in one of the rocking chairs, lantern beside him flickering and making his dark silhouette on the wall appear sinister. His eyes are closed, and for a moment David stands and watches the shadows from the flame dance along the man's pale skin before he sits on the edge of the porch and watches the moon rise in the night sky. The night is clear, but the smoke from the mills creates a thin shroud clouding the moon's light.
Something makes a sound, an owl hooting or perhaps a passing deer, and David startles from his thoughts. Behind him the man in the rocking chair shifts with a sigh, before coughing and waking up. David turns to look at him, to watch the realization on his face when he sees David sitting there. It goes from confusion, to a large smile, before it's all ruined by another cough.
"How long have you been sitting here?" the man asks him, standing up and wincing as his back pops.
"It doesn't matter," David tells him with a shrug. "I like watching you sleep."
That pulls a laugh from the man, Adam, who extends a hand to pull David up with. Adam's hands are always cold, perhaps because it is always winter when David sees him, but in David's burning hands, they are relief. Adam pulls David against him, whispering his name into his hair and clutching him as if he will never let go. He smells exactly how David remembers, of oil from the trains and coal from the mines, and now faintly of whiskey. The sharp scents are ones David would hate otherwise, but combined now on Adam's skin, David could care less.
"How... uh, how long?" Adam asks him, fingers wound in David's hair, lips pressed against his forehead. "I mean, can you, uh..."
"I can stay for a little while," David presses a kiss against Adam's jaw. "Upstairs?"
Adam gives him a half wanting, half sleepy grin. David returns his smile, trailing Adam into the depot and up the stairs. As they are pressed against each other in the darkness, David blocks out everything else and surrounds himself with only Adam.
*
The jars on the wooden counter reflect the sunlight shining in through the window. Each contains a different candy of sorts, a bright rainbow of colors beckoning anyone with a sweet tooth. Adam stares at the glass jars, at the red peppermint sticks and the yellow lemon drops, and runs his finger over the two nickels in his pocket. He’s helped his mother in the kitchen, completed all the reading and writing his father set aside for him to earn this treat, worked in the depot; his mouth waters as he tries to make up his mind about what candies he wants.
The bell over the front door clinks delicately and Adam absentmindedly steps to the side to allow whoever it is access to the order counter while he makes up his mind. He is pulled from his deep musing of butterscotch or lemon drops when he hears the soft, accented words of the person who has just entered the store. A boy, smaller and infinitely more delicate looking than Adam, is standing next to him, handing a list to the grocer. Briartown is small enough for Adam to have never known any boys his own age, some a few years older and some a few years younger, and the thought of someone new to speak to is exciting.
"Hello," he says brightly, smile not falling as the boy looks at him with suspicion in his dark eyes. "My name is Adam."
The boy is silent for a minute and Adam wonders if he’s just going to stare at Adam and not say anything before he says, "I am David. My English no good."
The grocer returns and hands David a few bags to which David pays for with exact change. David spares Adam a tight semblance of a smile before turning to leave, bags and packages balanced precariously in his arms. Adam watches him go before only spending one of his nickels on lemon drops. Shoving the bag in his pocket, he rushes after David, calling for him to wait. After a stilted, mostly one-sided conversation which involves a lot of awkward gesturing, David allows Adam to help him carry his bags home. Except Adam doesn’t know where home is and when they end up standing outside of the old mansion on the outskirts of town, Adam stands there gaping for a moment.
"You live here?" Adam stutters, staring up at the imposing structure.
David is spared from answering when another boy, much taller than either of them, appears out of nowhere with a large grin on his face. He ruffles David’s hair; David scowls and swats his hand away.
"Thank you," David tells Adam, a bright grin appearing for the first time on his face as the other boy takes his bags.
"You’re welcome," Adam responds, handing his bag to the taller boy, who quickly introduces himself as Joe before disappearing again. "Do you want a piece?"
From his pocket, Adam pulls his candy and holds them out for David to choose from. David blinks up at Adam for a minute as if unsure what the candy is. Adam smiles at him and pops a piece in his mouth; David mirrors his motion, sniffing at the yellow orb before popping it in his mouth. Adam reckons David isn’t expecting the sour taste as he purses his lips and his eyes widen in surprise. He can’t stop the laugh that escapes his mouth and when David reaches out to pinch him, he darts to the side before taking off, David running after him and yelling at him in words he doesn’t need to know to understand.
*
The wind rattles the window pane, errant leaves occasionally scraping by it. The coal in the furnace in the corner of the room is burning low, barely more than embers, but David tells it to stay strong and keep Adam warm as long as possible. David waits until Adam is asleep, breaths deep and steady, before slipping from the bed and dressing. This thinly veiled subterfuge is nothing more than David's way of avoiding the disappointment set in Adam's face when he leaves. Adam will awake alone in the morning, as he does when David is not here, and they'll both carry on wishing the other was with them as they have for the past six years.
As he steals away from the depot for the few miles walk to Carrington, his eyes take in the changes of Briartown. There are a few more stores now, and the dirt road seems harder trotted. The old burned house still stands, a forgotten monument to the founders of the town thoughtfully set far enough away for people to ignore. The mine is a few years old, but now there is a track parallel to the road running to it to make transporting coal more efficient. David knows if he follows the road he'll more than likely see even more development, but he'll save his curiosity for another day. Right now the wind beckons him on, nudging at him but unable to steal any of the constant warmth burning inside of him.
The road before him ends where another begins. A large iron gate, foolishly elaborate though just as effective at keeping unwanted eyes away, stands in front of him. Reaching up to check the lock, he finds it is unlocked and pushes it open. The black gate silently glides in front of him like a wraith before he stops and closes it, making sure to latch it. The road goes from wild and unkempt to precisely manicured; the lane ahead of him is eerily silent and dark. Lifting his hand, a flame flickers to life and grows until it is a ball a few inches wide. David pushes the ball out in front of him, using it to guide his way and provide light in the inky night. The moon is behind the trees and useless from the mill's pollution; David remembers when the moon was nearly always visible here.
Carrington rears up suddenly, a stone behemoth in the hills and trees of the Appalachians. Three stories of gray stone sit partially consumed by ivy, the light of candles in a few rooms winking at David as he approaches. Slinking around back, he finds the cook and maids still at work cleaning after dinner and they smile at him, pushing food and drinks at him as they pet his hair and pinch his cheeks. He answers their questions in between bites; they've seen him grown from a shy child into a man and are fond of him. David makes sure the fires in the kitchen are burning hot to keep them warm before he steals away to his room.
The halls are constructed of a dark wood, each surface cleaned and polished, gleaming at David as he walks by in the dark; he knows Carrington well enough to not require light. There is still some noise on the second floor in a few of the rooms where shadows under the door tell him who is awake. There are enough rooms in the large manor to house the entire circus, but some prefer their privacy and choose to sleep in the old detached servants quarters. David does not have the luxury of privacy. He continues up the staircase to the third floor.
There are three rooms on the third floor: David's room, Vincent's room, and the large master suite Mancini inhabits. His hand isn't even on the doorknob before he hears his name called. Taking a deep breath, he turns to face his keeper. Mancini, Roberto, stands in the doorway of his room, bright lights behind him throwing his elongated shadow into the dark hallway. His skin looks like parchment, like he hasn't seen the sun in a long time, and his eyes seem sunken. David feels uneasy when the circus owner stares at him, as if Roberto has something he wants to say to David but never does. Whatever it is, it forms a barrier between them that language, time, and space have been unable to break.
"Hello, sir," David quietly murmurs, not wanting to wake Vincent, whose light is out, at this hour. "How have you been?"
"David," Roberto repeats again, crossing the space between them and pulling David into a stiff embrace. "I'm good. I've missed you."
David returns the awkward hug, patting Roberto on the back. "Tired." David answers. "It was a long season."
"I'm glad you are home. Sleep now, we'll speak in the morning."
David's limbs seem to move without him telling them to. He gives Roberto a hint of a smile and bids him good night before entering his room. The room smells dusty with disuse; it's been eight months since he's slept here and even then it wasn't very often. Marionettes line the walls, left over from when he was a child and Roberto would gift them to him when he retired them from an act. Like the rest of the circus, Roberto too has a talent. These dolls have no strings. David feels like his puppet, invisible strings lax but pulled from afar, on a stage which is both his haven and cage.
*
When David was a small child, Roberto was one of the main attractions of the circus. Back then, Roberto's father owned the circus and his son was only a puppet master. When his mother was busy, either learning new dances or entertaining admirers, Roberto would often sit with him and entertain him with his marionettes, making them dance and play with David. There weren't very many children then; at least not many who weren't abandoned on the doorsteps of churches or left to face crueler fates. And unlike some of the other children, David knew he was loved by his mother and in turn by those who loved her.
The morning after she passed it was Roberto who came to him and told him it would be he who would watch after David now. But in between practicing with the marionettes and running the business side of the circus for his father, Roberto did not have much time to spend with David. David's isolation from the world outside of the circus led to his dependency on his mother, a bond which did not fully transfer to Roberto. The link is there, dusty and rusting through, but there nonetheless and David cannot find the courage within himself to leave. It is a strange and demented relationship, often taking the guise of a father and son, but with a mental partition time cannot erode separating them.
When David awakes it's to the sound of a crow outside his window and a knocking on his door. His door does not have locks, and the butler lets himself in. Chapman, Chappy, was once a clown in the circus and now runs the household at Carrington. David is partial to Chappy, who leaves the gate and back door open for him when he slinks in and out at night, and covers for him when Roberto wants to see him. Today Chappy strolls into his room with a pitcher of steaming water and pours it into a basin for David to wash himself with. David has known Chappy his entire life, but he still finds it hard to understand the heavy northern English accent he speaks with. As he pulls himself from the warmth of his bed and splashes water on his face, he listens to Chappy gossip about the town and answers his inquiries about the season the circus has had.
"Signore Mancini would like for you to have breakfast with him," Chappy tells David when he finishes washing his face. Going to David's wardrobe, he pulls out a shirt, waistcoat, and pair of trousers; David wrinkles his nose at the more formal clothing. "You know he prefers these clothing when you're at home."
David goes through the motions of a marionette. Stand still, wear what your puppeteer choses, move your limbs only when the strings are pulled; David puts on the smile he knows Roberto would like to see. Chappy helps him comb his hair into place before leading him into Roberto's private dining room. David lifts his arms to return the hug Roberto gives him, lifeless like a doll, before sitting woodenly at the table across from him. When Roberto asks him a question, David answers, telling him just what he wants to hear. The marionette must always do as the puppet master commands.
"David," Roberto sighs as one of the maids clears their plates and leaves a tea service on the table for them.
"Yes sir?" David asks when Roberto doesn't continue but simple stares at him with dull green eyes.
"Are you happy?"
David takes a moment to think. He is not unhappy, nor can he describe any other emotion he is feeling right now except perhaps a little uncomfortable and not in control of his life. No one is ever completely in control of their life, and David knows his struggles are comparatively insignificant; David has seen the faces of hunger, of fear, of people who have nothing. The only reason David was not abandoned on the streets after his mother's death was because of the man sitting across from him.
"I am content," David deflects the question as inside of him the fire burns, yearning for a freedom David will not give it. "I apologize if I seem otherwise."
Roberto pours tea for them. David watches as the steam curls up in tendrils before disappearing into the space between them. He adds a hint of milk, just enough for the steam to stop rising, before he takes a sip. Roberto watches him the entire time.
"I promised your mother I would be your family and you would be happy," Roberto says after a few more minutes of silence pass.
David looks up from his tea cup. Setting it down, he reaches across the small table and places a tentative hand over Roberto's. The wrinkles around Roberto's eyes crinkle when he smiles at David and David smiles back, this time genuine. Roberto has given him more than anyone else would ever have. For now, David will mollify himself with a gilded cage.
*
The smell of coal, earthy with a hint of sulfur, is faint but saturated into everything. Nowhere in this part of Appalachia is free from the scent be it in houses, clothing, or in the air around them. As David brings a bucket of water in from the well for the ladies in the kitchen to use, he tries to remember a time when the air was clear. He can't.
When the sun sets, the smog and pollution in the air makes the rays hazy and distorted, the colors are warped from what he is used to. Every few hours the unpleasant screech of one of the mines’ whistles echoes down the hills; David waits until the second lunch whistle blows before he returns to his room and grabs his bag. He packs a change of clothing and carefully tucks two packages in between a blanket. The wind hasn't picked up today, but up here in the mountains David knows the weather can change faster than the blink of an eye. Wrapping a scarf around his neck and pulling his heavy boots and a pair of thick gloves on, he slinks down the back staircase so no one will see him. As he grabs his coat from one of the closets, a noise comes from behind him and he turns to see Joe grinning at him.
"Mancini know you're slinking off?" Joe asks and David makes a rude gesture with his hand. "You're in a right mood I see."
"Don't say anything," David mumbles as he puts his coat on, buttoning it up so if it rains he doesn't become soaked.
"You know I wouldn't," Joe catches David's wrist before he can disappear. "How is he?"
"Cold." David makes sure his bag is tightly fastened before he hoists it onto his back.
Joe frowns. "Still?"
David shrugs, not really knowing what to say. Adam hasn't lit more coal than necessary to keep him alive for the past six years, certainly not enough to ever have a flame fire burning instead of a few glowing embers. If anyone has noticed the boarded over fireplaces of the train depot, they've been too polite to say anything. Joe doesn't say anything else, but pulls on his coat and walks down the lane to the gate with David. David is older, but Joe always makes him feel like a child when he checks David's scarf and hat to make sure he is warm even though David doesn't know what cold is. It's a useless gesture, but David hugs Joe nonetheless and lets him open the gate for him. He promises to be back by the following afternoon; both of them know David's never good at keeping track of time, especially when Adam is concerned.
In the light of the setting sun David walks as quickly as possible toward Briartown. The leafless branches of the trees around him twist toward the sky in a dead reach for something better. The trees look darker than they actually are; even the trees are not free of the ever-present coal dust and David wonders if the springtime flowers turn black. He hurries along, not tarrying in town. David does his best to ignore the whispers of the folk around him who take his appearance as an affirmation those people are back in town. Relations between the town natives and the circus have never been bad, but there have been strained moments. David tries not to snicker as he thinks of Mario, angry at Mancini for one reason or another, running through town as a lion.
The train depot is on the far end of the main road with 'Briartown' fading placard above the doors on both the entrance to the station and the side platform. The light in the waiting room on the ground floor is out, so David walks around to the back porch and finds Adam waiting for him. The way a smile can spread across Adam's face when he sees David sends the only chills David knows through his body; when Adam looks at him David feels like nothing outside of the two of them exists.
"I was wondering if you would come, I thought you had forgotten about me," Adam tries to sound put out, but he can't fake anything in front of David and he ends up stuttering and David laughs. "Come on."
There's still too much light for David to take Adam's hand and pull him against him out in the open. His own reputation is nothing to him, but David would sooner hurt himself than let any harm come to Adam's. Adam opens the door and once again David finds himself following Adam inside. They don't jump head first into carnality, rather David allows Adam to kiss him slowly as if time was never a constraint. Adam carefully pulls David's clothing off as if he is a fragile present which must be unwrapped with the utmost care. His touches are soft but clumsy; David bites his lip and smiles to himself when Adam whispers in Spanish and it comes out jumbled and incomprehensible. Between his strong accent and perchance to mumble, it is rare when Adam's Spanish is passable. Only when he is finished making David forget how to think properly and lays his hand on David's chest and murmurs 'corazon' does David think perhaps Adam is getting somewhere.
*
David's English is filled with incorrect grammar picked up from the other non-native English speakers as well as colloquialisms from the native speaks who surround him. When he says the season was decent, Adam laughs and tells him he spends too much time with Joe. It takes a while for David to describe the different cities they traveled to this year, the old staples as well as the new ones. The circus traveled as far north as Boston, all the way down to Atlanta and Savannah, across to New Orleans, and then back up to Chicago before returning to the coast to visit the new Atlantic City and finishing the season in Baltimore. There were nights in smaller towns along the way, places not big enough for the few weeks of performances but large enough for a night or two. Adam's eyes are large as he listens to David's stories, the smile on his lips just on the wistful side.
The sun has been down for hours when David is finished telling his stories, the world outside the window is black as pitch. Adam lays in bed the entire time, enveloped by blankets, as David sits with his back against the headboard, skin bare but lost to the shadows. The only illumination is what their eyes can pick out; what David doesn't see, his mind fills in from years of study. As he lays back down, his fingers trace the lines of Adam's face so he can strengthen his memory and feel what has changed.
"Can you stay?" Adam's breath brushes against David's cheek. David tenses and Adam feels the change immediately, "I mean tonight. Please, David?"
David had planned to stay and wants so badly to say yes. He pulls his hand down from Adam's face and rests it against the smooth skin of his chest. This is what David wants, more than anything, but what is a want and what is reality are not the same thing. As in nature, they follow a cyclical pattern which repeats itself every year. David spends the spring, summer, and early fall with the circus, returning to Adam to spend the cold and lifeless winter. But even here David is not with Adam; only when he is able to sneak away or Roberto is away from the mansion is David able to see Adam.
"I brought you something," David pulls out of Adam's arms and crosses the room to where his bag is propped on a chair. "It is new; I don't think you have it yet."
Across the room the lantern springs to life. David turns and hands the two packages to Adam, watching as he carefully unwraps a book and a bag of candy, careful to stay far enough away from Adam's reach. The Portrait of a Lady was hard to find in the weeks after its publication, but David found it sitting on the dusty shelf of a bookstore tucked away in the Baltimore alleys. Adam has always been a reader, devouring one book after the other, but for the past few years David has noticed the number of books on Adam's shelves has barely increased. David cannot read beyond basic words in English, but Adam summarizes each novel for him, painting a story in his own words.
"Thank you," Adam mumbles, places both on his bedside table, before his eyes dart toward the lantern on the table. "Can you...?"
The fire in the lantern is extinguished before Adam finishes his sentence. David crawls back into bed beside him, but both of them know as soon as Adam falls asleep, David will be gone.
*
A large barn sits back a ways behind the manor close to the servant's quarters. It serves as a practice ring for the circus in the off-season, and today David sits on one of the benches watching Aleks throw various objects around a dummy sitting in front of a target board. Edin is sitting next to him absentmindedly humming the tune of the new sheet music in his hand. There's a goofy grin on his face as Edin goes back and forth between watching Aleks and studying each sheet. David observes as Edin runs his hands over each note on the staff; the ink disappears under his fingertips. Standing from the bench Edin walks over to the piano adjacent to the ring. He doesn't touch the faded ivory keys but the piano begins to play, keys pressing down as if a ghost were there performing the melancholic melody drifting over them.
David holds his hands in front of him and from his palms a blue flame in the shape of a bird appears. It flaps its wings and stares at him with a tilted head before flickering and disappearing. He frowns and calls to the fire. Flames lick his hands before disappearing again. Over and over he calls, but the fire only comes for a few seconds if at all. His heart races and his hands begin to shake as he feels the cold of the winter seeping into his bones for the first time. In the background he's faintly aware the music has stopped playing and Edin is talking to him, but he doesn't hear him. David can feel the fire still, but its grown small and weak in the tumultuous wind surrounding him.
Aleks wraps an arm around him, sitting on the bench next to him and Edin mirrors him. In between the two larger men the cold is warded off. David looks down at the floor, not sure what to say. Edin just ruffles his hair and the piano begins to play again, a lighter song of spring despite the cold outside, and soon flowers begin to sprout from the floor. Light shines in from invisible windows and David almost thinks he can feel the warmth of the sun. A carpet of green sprout beneath their feet and the bench turns into a soft chaise. It's an idealistic world where humans can't hurt the earth, each other, or themselves, and that is how David knows it's not real.
"Thank you," he tells Aleks, who nods and slowly lets the illusion disappear.
"If you keep it here," the often stoic man taps a strong finger above David's heart, "you will never lose it."
"What if it's lost?" David mumbles, as Edin rubs circles onto his back.
"It's never lost, only forgotten."
David sees a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. Raising his head he sees Roberto watching the three of them with a blank expression on his face. He pops something into his mouth, David is sure it's one of the fruit pastilles he has sent over from Europe, before turning and walking back toward the manor. David feels the strings around him tighten.
*
A drought encases the deep South making travel impossible, and the circus returns to the cooler mountains of Briartown for a few weeks of rest before they'll travel to Chicago. It's been four years now that Adam has known David, and this is the first summer they've had time together. The sun looks good on him, coaxing a darker tone out of his skin the winter likes to hide. It draws his freckles out, draws them across his nose. Adam likes the way David smiles when he looks up at the blue sky and then back at him. There are circles under his eyes this year, his first performing instead of just assisting, but he looks happy when he leaves Carrington and explores the mountains with Adam. Sometimes it makes Adam a little uneasy when he notices these changes in David, but when David laughs or asks him something with an inquisitive look in his eyes, Adam forgets everything.
Today they've taken a row boat upriver close to where an old mine has been abandoned. Despite warnings from Adam's father and Roberto to never go near abandoned tunnels, they find themselves exploring them anyway. Most of the old shafts are boarded up or collapsed to prevent anyone from wandering in, but they find rotted wood and other openings allowing them access. It takes Adam a few minutes to a light a match to light the lantern, and they all end up going out. David takes the box from him and has one lit in a few seconds; Adam pinches him and calls him a cheater as David grins impishly.
"We could live down here," Adam tells him when they emerge covered in coal dust and dirt hours later. "I wouldn't go to the University, you wouldn't have to go with the circus."
"You want to go to the University," Adam loves the way David's accent makes words dance in ways he'd never imagine. "It is the only thing you speak of."
Adam doesn't tell David the University is the only thing he speaks of because the only other item of interest in his life is David.
The river is cold, but the sun is hot as it dries them after washing themselves in a creek. They lay in its offered warmth talking about trivial things neither will remember. Adam doesn't really care; he's more than happy to spend time with David. As the heat makes them drowsy, Adam is able to coax tales of the road from David. What Adam imagines to be an adventure sounds mundane and normal in David's life. He learns a bulk of David's stress comes from not mastering his trade, something to do with fire but David never lets Adam watch. It upsets him sometimes when he thinks David doesn't trust him or think highly enough of his opinion, but he sees the self-doubt David lives in and understands why he wouldn't want anyone else to judge.
The sun begins a downward arc in the sky and they reluctantly agree to turn homeward. Adam's not sure how it happens. One minute they're walking up a hill back toward the river and the next the earth begins to shake. Adam sees nothing but the world spinning around him for a moment before the air is knocked from his lungs and the sky above him is replaced by a cloud of black smoke. He doesn't move for a minute, trying to make sense of what has happened. Then, he wiggles his toes and fingers to make sure he can feel them before moving the rest of his body. Adam's head spins in the mix of light and dark and the coal dust still in the air is suffocating.
"David?" He coughs out, sitting up and trying to look around him.
Adam's stomach drops to his knees; their lantern has broken and ignited a bit of coal on the ground. He looks around for a way to put it out, but there is nothing around them except the remnants of a collapsed tunnel and the hole through which they fell. A hole neither of them will be able to reach. The coal hisses, and the glow begins to spread, winding like an angry red snake.
"David, where are you?" He calls out again as he pushes himself to his feet and winces at the pain. "David?"
He hears coughing a few feet away and can only see part of David. The rest of him is obscured by a large amount of dirt which has fallen on him. Adam hobbles over to David and begins to dig him out as fast as he can, fingertips and nails ripping and tearing on the rocks and pieces of wood in the rubble. When he can see David's knees, he pulls him up and onto his feet. By now the smoke from the fire has begun to fill the small chamber and both are coughing. Adam tries to stop it with the loose dirt, but it has already spread too far and burns too hot for him to approach. Stumbling backward, he shields his face from the heat and takes David's hand, pushing David behind him to protect him.
Maybe it's the smoke inhalation, or maybe he hit his head when he fell, but the potential coal seam fire begins to fade and eventually disappears. Adam looks around bewildered, confused as what just happened, before he feels a pull on his hand and sees David has collapsed to his knees. The hand not in Adam's is extended outward and at his fingertips, a small fire burns; David closes his hand and the fire is gone without a trace.
When the circus leaves for Chicago, David writes to Adam and tells him he's finally mastered his act; all he needed was a reason why.
*
Snow begins to fall the first week of December, clean flakes whitewashing the polluted countryside. As the snow covers the signs of destruction outside, inside David keeps to his room and feigns exhaustion for the long touring season. He doubts anyone believes him, but they know him well enough to leave him alone with this thoughts.
David's fatigue comes not from travels with the circus, but years of ignoring problems which have now bored deeper into his life. Like the ever changing landscape outside, David remembers when problems were small enough to be overlooked and ignored. The earth was not always scored; the rivers were not always dead.
The snow stops falling. The ash and dust from the mines and mills begin to coat the snow and ice. As the sun sets, color is leached from the world as everything fades to black.
*
The mine has expanded since they've been home last. Kun asks David if he'd like to go for a walk one day, and they wander toward the sounds of commotion. A stray cat follows them, and David wonders if Mario thinks he's fooling either of them. Kun is easy to talk to, straight forward and full of no presumptions; David finds himself smiling for the first time in a long while.
A few miles outside of town the picturesque trees and hills give way to a barren wasteland stripped of anything natural. A small miner's shanty town has sprung up around the mine, clapboard houses flimsy and as dark as their surroundings. The smokestack from the large boiler belches smokes into the air. They watch as grayed men walk into the tunnels and darker men come out.
"Sometimes I hate what we do," Kun tells him, smile gone as he surveys the scene beneath him, "but then I see this."
David wonders if trading one cage for another is freeing or just as restraining. He supposed someone could fool themselves into thinking an existence is free, but he knows the bars are there if you know to look for them. There is always something better and likewise there is always something worse, the only thing that changes is perspective.
"What's that for?" Kun points to a man carrying a small bird cage.
"A canary," David tells him. "They use them to see if the air if safe. If they die, the miners know to leave."
The cat, who had previously been winding itself around David's legs, sits down next to him and looks up. David doesn't know if cats can grin, but he's pretty sure this one can. It springs lithely to its feet and stalks down toward the livestock, ignoring the chicken coops and pigsties in favor of the large birdhouse. No one pays the cat any mind as it looks like the rest of the strays wandering about. It waits until there are no humans close enough before hopping onto the ledge of the birdhouse and batting the peg holding the door shut out of place. David and Kun watch as a dozen or so of the bright yellow birds burst free of their cage and scatter toward the sky before anyone realizes what has happened. The cat returns, ambling slowly with only a swagger Mario could pull off. Kun laughs and pulls the cat up into his arms, carrying him safely up out of the snow.
part two