Fic: 5 Times Ivanhoe Stopped Sam From Doing Something Stupid, green cortina, dakfinv
Title: 5 Times Ivanhoe Stopped Sam From Doing Something Stupid
Author: dak
Word Count: 1423 words
Rating: green cortina
Warnings: mild drunkenness
Summary: Does what it says on the tin.
A/N: For amproof , who gave me the prompt.
1)
1970
“Vic! Keep an eye on the baby. I have to pop down to the shop.”
“Right, Ruth. Here, Sammy. Play with your ball.”
Little Sammy stared at the ball, then set it on the floor.
“No, Sammy,” Vic laughed and took the ball. “Here, I’m going to roll it to you. See? Like this.” Vic pushed the ball towards Sammy. Sammy looked at the ball, looked at his daddy, and laughed. Vic smiled and rolled the ball again. Sammy laughed and clapped.
“You try, Sammy. Roll me the ball. Come on. You can do it!”
Sammy tapped the ball but did not roll it.
“Here, try again. Go on,” Vic pushed the ball to Sammy. Sammy looked at Vic then tapped the ball. Before Vic could show him again, there was a knock on the door. Vic peaked out the window.
“I’ll be right back, Sammy. Daddy needs to talk to his...friend.” Vic stepped out of the house, leaving the door open. Sammy kept hitting the ball. Eventually, it rolled forwards.
Sammy smiled, then began crawling after it, towards the open door. As he reached the door frame, he heard Ruth’s new cat meow. Sammy turned towards the sound and smiled when he saw the orange and white kitty purring and rubbing against the sofa. Sammy laughed and crawled towards the kitty. Sitting beside him, he reached out a hand and tapped the kitty on the head. The kitty meowed and crawled into Sammy’s lap.
“Alright, my lad. Daddy’s back,” Vic announced, returning and shutting the door. “Go on, you stupid cat. Leave him alone,” he said and shoved Ivanhoe away.
2)
1974
Auntie Heather was babysitting, but Auntie Heather had a very bad cold, so Auntie Heather was asleep. Since Auntie Heather was asleep, it meant Sammy could do whatever he wanted. As long as Mummy didn’t find out. And what Sammy really wanted to do was test out his new super cape. Jimmy had given him the cape for three plastic soldiers that Sammy had been tired of anyway. Sammy thought it had been a very smart trade.
Jimmy was sure the cape could give you super powers and Sammy had always wanted to fly. So, he fasted the cape around his neck and stood at the top of the staircase. He wasn’t scared at all. Not only did he have the cape but Mummy always told him he could do whatever he put his mind to.
Centered at the top of the staircase, he furrowed his brow, thinking very seriously, bent his knees, and Ivanhoe came flying up the stairs. He started weaving in and out of Sammy’s legs, purring.
“Ivanhoe,” he whined. “I’m trying to do summat very important.”
But Ivanhoe kept purring and purring, so Sammy checked the clock on the wall.
“It’s half past eight. Hasn’t Auntie Heather fed you?”
Ivanhoe looked up and mewled.
“Alright,” Sammy sighed and scooped the cat up into his arms. The cat growled pitifully as he dangled from Sammy’s arms and was carried downstairs. On his tippy toes, Sammy pulled the box of cat food off the counter and tipped it into Ivanhoe’s dish.
“Sammy? Is that you?” Auntie Heather padded into the kitchen. “Goodness. What time is it? You Mum should be home soon. Best get you to bed.”
Sammy sighed. He supposed he’d have to try and fly another day.
3)
1981
“I hate you! You never let me do anything!”
“I have had enough of you, young man. Go to your room and don’t come out till I say!”
Sam wanted to say more, but instead he simply stomped upstairs and slammed his door so hard the windows shook. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all. Everyone else had been allowed to go to the flicks. Why couldn’t he? Why wasn’t he ever allowed to do anything with his mates?
“If Dad were here, he would let me,” Sam pouted. “Dad would let me do anything I wanted, I bet.” Sam sat and stewed and stewed, but at eleven o’clock, he wasn’t any less angry than he had been at seven. Finally, he decided to do something about it. Reaching under his bed, he pulled out his old hand-me-down suitcase. Flipping it open, he tossed in as many clothes as would fit, latched it shut, and snuck out of his room.
His stupid mum had to work early and he’d heard her go to bed around nine. Tiptoeing downstairs, Sam kept as quiet as possible as he walked to the front door. He knew exactly what he would do: sneak on a train to London and then find his dad. He didn’t know why his dad would be in London, but it seemed anyone that went missing ended up there.
Determined, he began to unlock the door when he heard a meow to his left. In the darkness, he could see the outline of a cat sitting on the armchair. Sam walked over and scratched Ivanhoe’s ears.
“I’m sorry, mate. But I have to.”
Ivanhoe started purring and rubbed his head against Sam’s hand. Sam kept petting him to keep him quiet.
“I won’t be gone forever. Just till I find Dad.”
Ivanhoe meowed.
“Shh! You’ll wake Mum.”
Ivanhoe meowed again.
“Alright. Come here.” Sam scooped the cat off the chair and sat down in his place. “Now, shh.”
Ivanhoe settled on Sam’s chest, stretching his paws up to Sam’s neck, purring all the way. Sam hadn’t the heart to move him and as Ivanhoe purred, Sam fell fast asleep.
4)
1983
“Well, erm...”
“I had a wonderful time, Sam.”
“Erm, yeah. Me, too.”
“So...”
“Yeah, well, so...my house is just over here. So, I guess I should go...”
“Oh.”
“So...hey!”
“What was that?”
“I think it was my cat. Bloody thing just ran right under my feet. Go on, Ivanhoe! Go home! Erm, right. Look, why don’t I walk you home?”
“Oh! That would be lovely, Sam. Thank you!”
5)
1973
It had been a week. A whole week in Coma Land with no word from the real world. It had never been this long before. There was always something - a voice on the radio, a doctor on the telly, even a quote in the newspaper. Not this week. This week there was nothing.
And Sam was frantic. He was losing touch with the real world. That had to be it. He was slipping into a deeper level of coma. The voices weren’t able to reach him. He was slipping away. How long would it be before he was completely lost? Trapped? Forgotten? He probably wasn’t even in hospital anymore, but one of those special care facilities. The kind where they didn’t put you to heal, but put you to die. He was dying. He was dying and no one was trying to save him.
And after another three days of no word, Sam decided to take out his frustrations with a bottle of fake whisky from the cupboard of his fake flat and soon Sam was stumbling down the fake road, towards the fake bridge over the fake canal. He sat on the edge, his feet dangling over the side and the bottle dangling from his fingers.
“How ‘bout now!” He slurred. “Can I hear something now?” He waited and listened. Nothing. “Knew it. I knew it,” he sneered. “You’ve...you’ve all quit on me. Given up. ‘M not...not going to wake up, am I? Going to...rot away in some bloody bed, aren’t I?” He finished off the bottle then chucked it into the fake water below.
“Then, guess I better give you a sign,” he swayed, trying to get to his feet. “Better show you ‘m still alive.” He used the rail to pull himself up, then started leaning his body over it. He pulled one leg up on the rail, when something bumped into his other leg.
He looked down to see a white and orange fur ball staring up at him.
“Ivanhoe?”
The cat responded with a meow. Sam brought down his leg. Ivanhoe took off.
“Ivanhoe, wait!”
Sam ran after him, as fast as his wobbly legs would allow. He saw the cat turn a corner and followed.
“Ivanhoe?”
Sam ran into a rubbish bin. Falling onto his back, he suddenly heard the steady beep and whoosh of a heart monitor and respirator. He listened carefully, putting his hands over his ears. The sound remained. Sam smiled and laid there, sprawled out on the pavement, until the sound dissipated.
Author: dak
Word Count: 1423 words
Rating: green cortina
Warnings: mild drunkenness
Summary: Does what it says on the tin.
A/N: For amproof , who gave me the prompt.
1)
1970
“Vic! Keep an eye on the baby. I have to pop down to the shop.”
“Right, Ruth. Here, Sammy. Play with your ball.”
Little Sammy stared at the ball, then set it on the floor.
“No, Sammy,” Vic laughed and took the ball. “Here, I’m going to roll it to you. See? Like this.” Vic pushed the ball towards Sammy. Sammy looked at the ball, looked at his daddy, and laughed. Vic smiled and rolled the ball again. Sammy laughed and clapped.
“You try, Sammy. Roll me the ball. Come on. You can do it!”
Sammy tapped the ball but did not roll it.
“Here, try again. Go on,” Vic pushed the ball to Sammy. Sammy looked at Vic then tapped the ball. Before Vic could show him again, there was a knock on the door. Vic peaked out the window.
“I’ll be right back, Sammy. Daddy needs to talk to his...friend.” Vic stepped out of the house, leaving the door open. Sammy kept hitting the ball. Eventually, it rolled forwards.
Sammy smiled, then began crawling after it, towards the open door. As he reached the door frame, he heard Ruth’s new cat meow. Sammy turned towards the sound and smiled when he saw the orange and white kitty purring and rubbing against the sofa. Sammy laughed and crawled towards the kitty. Sitting beside him, he reached out a hand and tapped the kitty on the head. The kitty meowed and crawled into Sammy’s lap.
“Alright, my lad. Daddy’s back,” Vic announced, returning and shutting the door. “Go on, you stupid cat. Leave him alone,” he said and shoved Ivanhoe away.
2)
1974
Auntie Heather was babysitting, but Auntie Heather had a very bad cold, so Auntie Heather was asleep. Since Auntie Heather was asleep, it meant Sammy could do whatever he wanted. As long as Mummy didn’t find out. And what Sammy really wanted to do was test out his new super cape. Jimmy had given him the cape for three plastic soldiers that Sammy had been tired of anyway. Sammy thought it had been a very smart trade.
Jimmy was sure the cape could give you super powers and Sammy had always wanted to fly. So, he fasted the cape around his neck and stood at the top of the staircase. He wasn’t scared at all. Not only did he have the cape but Mummy always told him he could do whatever he put his mind to.
Centered at the top of the staircase, he furrowed his brow, thinking very seriously, bent his knees, and Ivanhoe came flying up the stairs. He started weaving in and out of Sammy’s legs, purring.
“Ivanhoe,” he whined. “I’m trying to do summat very important.”
But Ivanhoe kept purring and purring, so Sammy checked the clock on the wall.
“It’s half past eight. Hasn’t Auntie Heather fed you?”
Ivanhoe looked up and mewled.
“Alright,” Sammy sighed and scooped the cat up into his arms. The cat growled pitifully as he dangled from Sammy’s arms and was carried downstairs. On his tippy toes, Sammy pulled the box of cat food off the counter and tipped it into Ivanhoe’s dish.
“Sammy? Is that you?” Auntie Heather padded into the kitchen. “Goodness. What time is it? You Mum should be home soon. Best get you to bed.”
Sammy sighed. He supposed he’d have to try and fly another day.
3)
1981
“I hate you! You never let me do anything!”
“I have had enough of you, young man. Go to your room and don’t come out till I say!”
Sam wanted to say more, but instead he simply stomped upstairs and slammed his door so hard the windows shook. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all. Everyone else had been allowed to go to the flicks. Why couldn’t he? Why wasn’t he ever allowed to do anything with his mates?
“If Dad were here, he would let me,” Sam pouted. “Dad would let me do anything I wanted, I bet.” Sam sat and stewed and stewed, but at eleven o’clock, he wasn’t any less angry than he had been at seven. Finally, he decided to do something about it. Reaching under his bed, he pulled out his old hand-me-down suitcase. Flipping it open, he tossed in as many clothes as would fit, latched it shut, and snuck out of his room.
His stupid mum had to work early and he’d heard her go to bed around nine. Tiptoeing downstairs, Sam kept as quiet as possible as he walked to the front door. He knew exactly what he would do: sneak on a train to London and then find his dad. He didn’t know why his dad would be in London, but it seemed anyone that went missing ended up there.
Determined, he began to unlock the door when he heard a meow to his left. In the darkness, he could see the outline of a cat sitting on the armchair. Sam walked over and scratched Ivanhoe’s ears.
“I’m sorry, mate. But I have to.”
Ivanhoe started purring and rubbed his head against Sam’s hand. Sam kept petting him to keep him quiet.
“I won’t be gone forever. Just till I find Dad.”
Ivanhoe meowed.
“Shh! You’ll wake Mum.”
Ivanhoe meowed again.
“Alright. Come here.” Sam scooped the cat off the chair and sat down in his place. “Now, shh.”
Ivanhoe settled on Sam’s chest, stretching his paws up to Sam’s neck, purring all the way. Sam hadn’t the heart to move him and as Ivanhoe purred, Sam fell fast asleep.
4)
1983
“Well, erm...”
“I had a wonderful time, Sam.”
“Erm, yeah. Me, too.”
“So...”
“Yeah, well, so...my house is just over here. So, I guess I should go...”
“Oh.”
“So...hey!”
“What was that?”
“I think it was my cat. Bloody thing just ran right under my feet. Go on, Ivanhoe! Go home! Erm, right. Look, why don’t I walk you home?”
“Oh! That would be lovely, Sam. Thank you!”
5)
1973
It had been a week. A whole week in Coma Land with no word from the real world. It had never been this long before. There was always something - a voice on the radio, a doctor on the telly, even a quote in the newspaper. Not this week. This week there was nothing.
And Sam was frantic. He was losing touch with the real world. That had to be it. He was slipping into a deeper level of coma. The voices weren’t able to reach him. He was slipping away. How long would it be before he was completely lost? Trapped? Forgotten? He probably wasn’t even in hospital anymore, but one of those special care facilities. The kind where they didn’t put you to heal, but put you to die. He was dying. He was dying and no one was trying to save him.
And after another three days of no word, Sam decided to take out his frustrations with a bottle of fake whisky from the cupboard of his fake flat and soon Sam was stumbling down the fake road, towards the fake bridge over the fake canal. He sat on the edge, his feet dangling over the side and the bottle dangling from his fingers.
“How ‘bout now!” He slurred. “Can I hear something now?” He waited and listened. Nothing. “Knew it. I knew it,” he sneered. “You’ve...you’ve all quit on me. Given up. ‘M not...not going to wake up, am I? Going to...rot away in some bloody bed, aren’t I?” He finished off the bottle then chucked it into the fake water below.
“Then, guess I better give you a sign,” he swayed, trying to get to his feet. “Better show you ‘m still alive.” He used the rail to pull himself up, then started leaning his body over it. He pulled one leg up on the rail, when something bumped into his other leg.
He looked down to see a white and orange fur ball staring up at him.
“Ivanhoe?”
The cat responded with a meow. Sam brought down his leg. Ivanhoe took off.
“Ivanhoe, wait!”
Sam ran after him, as fast as his wobbly legs would allow. He saw the cat turn a corner and followed.
“Ivanhoe?”
Sam ran into a rubbish bin. Falling onto his back, he suddenly heard the steady beep and whoosh of a heart monitor and respirator. He listened carefully, putting his hands over his ears. The sound remained. Sam smiled and laid there, sprawled out on the pavement, until the sound dissipated.