First Slow Horses fic posted! Never thought my return to posting fic would feature WLW, but here we are. This is part of the Slow Horses Ship Wheel challenge. The idea is to give less featured characters and ships some love. Please check out everyone else's work and feel free to join in the fun!
This piece does have minor spoilers for book 7: Slough House, but nothing crazy.
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Summary: River visits his grandfather post season four at the care home. The visits conjure memories of River’s childhood and teen years as he grapples with his grandfather’s declining mental health and how once he’s gone he’ll have no one left. Warning – spoilers for all four seasons!
There’s a certain slant of light
On winter afternoons,
That oppresses, like the weight
Of cathedral tunes,
Heavenly hurt it gives us,
We can find no scar,
But internal difference
Where the meanings are.
None may teach it anything,
‘Tis the seal, despair, -
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the air
When it comes, the landscape listens.
Shadows hold their breath;
When it goes, ‘tis like the distance
On the look of death.
Emily Dickinson
Chapter One
The car’s tires crunched to a halt on the gravel drive. River shut the car off and stared into the distance. The steel grey sky cast a gloom over the care home’s edifice in a way River hadn’t noticed on his previous visits.
River’s thoughts swirled back to a different time before he ended up at Sough House – he remembered a conversation in his grandfather’s study. One where his grandfather jokingly called care homes ‘God’s waiting room’ and how he insisted if he ever needed one he’d rather be dead. At the time there was no need for one and River reassured his grandfather he’d never allow it. But now…needs must…River sighed and forced himself from the car.
He braced the cold February afternoon and turned up the collar on his green corduroy coat up as he jogged the length of the path to the front door, pushing it open, he was greeted by warmth and chatter – and the slamming of a tray along with the clatter of dishes and cutlery. River recognized his grandfather’s raised voice and almost turned back around.
No, no I can do this…he and Nan raised me…I owe him no matter how hard.
Entering the wood panelled dining hall where other elderly residents were gathered for lunch, River spotted his grandfather off to the side at a small table near the fireplace causing a scene.
An orderly busied himself with cleaning the mess on the floor while two women – Sylvie, who River already knew was trying to soothe David Cartwright and while another petite woman attempted to tidy him up after some of the food had landed on his sweater.
“Stop! I’m not a baby!” David shouted, swatting at the smaller woman.
“Granddad, don’t get handsy with the ladies,” River said with a forced half smile and a raised brow, trying to lighten the situation.
“River take me home! These harpies are treating me like I’m an invalid!” he shouted, then stood up, grabbed his cane and pushed past them, hobbling away.
“Granddad you know I can’t…” River went to grab him.
“No leave him be,” the petite woman said.
“But…”
“It’s best to let him settle down. I’m Orla by the way, you’re the grandson?” she asked offering her hand with a kind smile.
Orla had warm, but sharp green eyes that reminded him of his grandmother, Rose. Freckles sprinkled the bridge of her nose and cheeks and red curls bounced, just reaching her shoulders. River had never seen her before today.
“Yes, River Cartwright. Nice to meet you,” River shook her hand and smiled back.
“I’ve just been brought on board with recreation at the home. Seems we have some very sharp retirees here who need more challenging tasks to occupy them.”
River knew that all the employees were specially vetted and aware that the bulk of the residents were former service or higher ups in government with a few military veterans sprinkled in for good measure.
“Yes, this lot aren’t your run of the mill pensioners,” River said wryly.
“I look forward to the challenge. I’m glad you’re here though as we have been having trouble with your grandfather. I was curious to know a bit more about him to see if I could find a way to reach out to him.”
River flushed, wondering how many other times his grandfather, the OB or the Old Bastard to many, threw a tantrum making more work for the staff here. “I’m so sorry he’s been…difficult. I know he’d rather be home, but it’s just not safe for him and I live in London and can’t commute here all the time…” River rambled.
Orla put a hand on River’s arm, “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. He does have dementia and that is bound to make him act out. The staff understand. Why don’t you come to my office? We can have some tea and chat.”
Orla led River through the large and very windowed recreation room where some staff were setting up for what appeared to be arts and crafts. There was a small side door that went down a narrow passage and onto hallway with a number of highly polished doors. Orla pushed one open and led River into a cheerful room filled with small potted plants, a well-organized desk and a low bookcase filled with books and what appeared to be files.
“Tea or coffee? I have a fresh lemon drizzle loaf from home – happy to share.”
“Whichever is easier for you. Uh, yeah, sure, thanks.”
Orla chuckled. “You’re making it too easy for me.” She switched on the kettle on top of the bookcase. “Have a seat. Let me go find a knife for the cake and some milk. Make yourself comfortable.”
She handed River a pamphlet about coping with the transition to a care home for family members as she breezed out. River was tempted to chuck it into the bin, but thought the better of it as she was just being nice. Everyone always was so damn nice, which made it harder somehow. He wanted to shout at someone as if that would make him feel better about the situation. Demand to see someone in charge and lodge complaints as that would be easier than someone smiling and handing him a slice of his favourite cake.
River sat back in chair, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He thought back to the time when he was almost seven and he had that first slice of lemon drizzle loaf in his grandparents’ kitchen.
It was a rare sunny afternoon in late winter when River’s mother, Isobel knocked on the front door of a large stone house in the countryside. River was in awe by the size of it. He had mainly lived in small flats and tiny houses with his mother and whomever her current boyfriends were at the time. This was like a palace to him.
“Mum, is this like a castle?”
His mother laughed. “God no. It’s just a house. I hope they’re home. I can’t keep Pedro waiting we have tickets to Spain.”
As if on cue he honked his horn from the car in the drive. Isobel rang the doorbell again and knocked on the door.
River stood silently, freezing in a jacket that wasn’t suited to the current weather. He clutched his rucksack on his shoulder and clung to his bunny, Mr. Hoppinheimer. “Mum, where are we going?”
“You’re going to stay here with your grandparents. They’ll look after you.”
Finally, the door opened and a stunned David Cartwright appeared. “Isobel?”
“Yes, father. I’m rather in a hurry. This is River. Here are his things. I’ve got to go.”
“What? You can’t leave him here. Isobel, come inside. What’s going on – are you in trouble?” David asked, his features etched with disbelief and his eyes wildly going between his daughter and the blonde little boy with big, sad blue eyes looking up at him. They reminded David of a favourite spaniel he had as a boy growing up that he loved.
“Father I don’t have time! Pedro is waiting,” Isobel pointed to the car in the drive.
“Sod Pedro, he can wait. You can’t just leave him here like this Isobel. We never met him.”
“Who? Pedro?” Isobel asked.
“No, you bloody idiot – River.”
River shrunk back to the side of the doorstep. He learned from living with his mum how important it was to fade into the background when necessary. It was key to not being yelled at or getting in the way.
“What’s going on?” Rose asked stepping out into the cold, pulling her cardigan tighter around herself to shield her from the brisk wind despite the bright sun. “Isobel, I’m surprised you’re here. Where’s River?” Rose searched and finally found him almost hiding behind a potted evergreen perched to the side of the front door. She bent down and smiled at him as he just stared back. “Oh, love you must be freezing,” she touched his shoulder and nudged him into the warmth of the large stone house as he clung to his bunny and rucksack.
“Mum, I don’t have time for you to coo and coddle over him because it’s a bit chilly out here. I’ve got to go,” Isobel said coming into the foyer.
David came in as well. “You can’t expect us to take him just like that Isobel. Where are you going? What’s going on?”
“Yes, I can and I’m off to Spain. Once I get settled I’ll send you my address.”
“Spain? What if he gets sick or something,” David asked.
“You raised me and managed to keep me alive. I suspect you’ll do just fine – thanks – ta!”
“Love, wait! Don’t you want to say goodbye properly to River?” Rose asked. She already had River in a sideways hug, ruffling his hair.
Isobel hesitated and went back to the doorstep to retrieve a luggage that she deposited in the foyer. “These are the rest of his things. He’s no bother, he’s usually quiet except when he’s got a million questions about something. Be good and don’t cause any trouble for your grandparents,” Isobel said and blew River a kiss.
Rose looked over at River who didn’t bat an eye or show any emotion at her leaving him. “David do something!” she hissed.
“What? She always was so out of control. I told you that artistic streak would lead to nothing good. We should never have indulged it.” He shut the door.
Rose sighed. “River dear, I’m grandma Rose, but you can call me Nan if you like. I’ve sent you cards and gifts – I do hope they made their way to you.”
River nodded and held up his bunny.
“Oh, excellent love, you still have it from a few Easter’s ago,” she said smiling but her eyes welled with tears. “David take his luggage and rucksack up to the guest room. You look hungry sweetheart – let me take you to the kitchen. Would you like some cake?”
“It’s not my birthday,” River finally uttered something.
“No love, I know that.”
“Is it your birthday?”
“No, you don’t just have cake on birthdays.”
“Oh.”
Rose looked to David.
“Come along dear, bring your bunny. Does he have a name?”
“Yes, Mr. Hoppinheimer.”
“Really, love,” Rose said ushering him into a warmer room still. There were lovely smells and lots of sunlight.
Rose had him sit down at the small table while she busied herself about the kitchen. She put the kettle on, went into a cupboard pulling out dishes and things. River just sat there with his bunny on his lap watching. Rose finally put dishes down on the table and a small mug that had a woodland scene on it.
“This was your mum’s when she was little. It’s a scene from Beatrix Potter.”
River looked at it curiously seeing a rabbit dressed in a coat. “Why is he wearing a jacket?”
“It’s Peter Rabbit. He’s a character from her books. Do not know them?”
“No.”
“Oh, I see, well don’t worry we have the books here.”
“Rose, a moment, please,” David stood on the cusp of the kitchen.
She nodded and joined him. “What?”
“The boy hardly has anything in his luggage. It’s appalling Rose,” he whispered.
“He seems scared. I’m worried how she’s been living…what if the men in her life…”
“Rose, don’t…”
“He’s ours now, David. She’s never taking him back. I won’t allow it. Look how sweet and quiet he is…”
David rubbed her shoulder. “Yes of course. He stays. He’s better off.”
The kettle whistled and River jumped. “What’s that? Is something wrong?”
“No, love – it’s just the kettle is boiling, which means it’s time for tea or in your case hot chocolate!”
“What’s hot chocolate? Is it like when a candy bar melts?”
“No, its special warm powdered chocolate. I trust you’ll like it.”
“So young man, do you have any interests? Dinosaurs, airplanes, horses, trains or even cars?” David asked.
River shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Rose put a slice of lemon drizzle cake on River’s plate and filled his little mug with hot chocolate and then dispensed tea and cake for herself and David.
“Go ahead, have some cake, love,” Rose urged.
River picked up the slice and sniffed it. It smelt like lemons and sugar. When he bit into the slice it was like heaven. He never tasted anything so wonderful and he smiled over at his Nan and she smiled back at him.
The reverie was broken when Orla fluttered back in cheerfully with a knife and little carton of milk. “Sorry that took longer than I hoped, it’s tough to get the elevator down to the kitchens at meal times, I had forgotten that since I’m new.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“You looked like you were a million miles away,” she said as she opened a box of tea.
“Yeah, well…it’s not easy seeing granddad here. I promised him once I’d never do this.”
“The hard reality of caring for someone in his condition and balancing your own life tends to make these situations impossible,” Orla said as she prepared tea.
River sighed. Orla was right. It was unsafe for him to be alone, especially given how confused he became, but there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot going on in his life at the moment that he maybe couldn’t have made this work. Slough House wasn’t buzzing with anything important to do. As to his personal life that was non-existent. Sure, he’d love to have what other normal people had, but he found it so difficult to connect. River had spent too many years alone in the safe little bubble his grandparents had created for him after he’d been dropped off. River’s unique situation in life always set him apart from his peers and made him feel unwelcome as he didn’t exactly fit. No one else at school was raised by their grandparents, but even before that when he was with his mum, they moved around so much he never had a chance to make friends then either.
“Thanks,” River said almost shyly, “What is it I could help with to make things better for him?”
“Well, Sylvie tells me you do visit often, which is great, but it doesn’t seem to help his mood.”
“Yeah, that’s because he’s angry at me for putting him here.”
“Milk first?”
“Umm, sure.”
“You really are the least particular person I’ve met,” Orla said with a smile.
River chuckled. “I learned early in life what actually matters, and how your milk goes in isn’t one of them.”
“I’ve seen that point hotly debated in the dining room here, so I disagree.”
Orla sliced some cake and handed River a small paper plate and a mug of tea.
“Thanks. I do want to help my grandfather, he’s just very stubborn.”
“Can I ask – what did he do before he retired? I know he’s former service – someone mentioned you are also in the service.”
“Yes, I am service, too. When granddad retired he was first desk,” River said feeling that he just misrepresented himself. Slough House wasn’t service in anyone else’s mind at the Park.
Orla’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, he was very important…okay…no wonder he feels helpless here.”
“It’s also why he has to be here. He knows too much.”
Orla nodded. “Of course. Let me have a think on this and see if we can come up with something that makes him feel more useful and engaged.”
“I’d appreciate that, thanks,” River said.
About fifteen minutes later after tea and cake, River made his way to his grandfather’s room in the east wing of the care home. He found him sitting in the leather chair near the window, just staring blankly out into the front garden. He knocked and said, “Granddad, how are you?” River walked over and crouched next to the chair.
His grandfather looked over at him blankly. “I told you, I don’t want any lunch – it’s bland!”
River furrowed his brow and frowned. “Granddad, it’s River. I don’t work here, I’m your grandson,” he touched his arm and tried to rub it and forced a smile.
“Go away! I don’t have a grandson,” David Cartwright shouted, pulling away from River’s touch.
River bit his lower lip and tried to contain himself. He knew it wasn’t his grandfather’s fault he couldn’t remember, but sometimes River did wonder if he did remember and just acted like he didn’t because he wanted to punish River for leaving him in a care home. There were times when David was very lucid and they would share a memory or a story from his work days. Maybe it wasn’t an act and he wasn’t torturing River on purpose. He just felt so helpless when his granddad looked through him. The doctor told him there would come a point where David would not remember River anymore. It’s not like he didn’t already know that, but to hear it from someone in an official medical way made it all the more final.
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
It was important to note that Ho never begged-- it was beneath him. No, he was just putting in a request-- repeatedly. A request which Standish calmly denied, so he tried one more time, just to be sure. Threw in a please, even, to show how polite he was.
"Honestly, Roddy. You really do need to work on your restraint."
Linking my first finished Slow Horses fic... Read for unjust propositions, powerplay and a healthy dose of wishful thinking!
The feeling I got when authors I adore (who I had talked to before) commented on my first fic saying what they liked about it... there's nothing like it.
I've never been so motivated to write fic in my life. Also the Slow Horses fanfic writers are so cool.
I know it's just Lamb trying to be rude/offputting because he basically does already know/highly suspect what happened, but it kind of amuses me that he's like "hmm, well Coe looks really happy, maybe he and Cartwright had sex- or they murdered someone"
Like Lamb doesn't think River looks happy. Idk, just amuses me the vibe of Lamb being all "yeah it would take more than sex to cheer River up"
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But I didn't ask for your help, River. I don't want any help.
on louisa
slow horses, mick herron / slow horses 2x03, "drinking games" / sea wall, simon stephens / 2x03 / human acts, han kang (trans. deborah smith) / 2x03 / can't help myself, sun yuan & peng yu / 2x03 / boot theory, richard siken / 3x04, "uninvited guests" / the dogs i have kissed, trista mateer / 3x04 / norwegian wood, haruki murakami / 3x06, "footprints" / the lonely city, olivia laing / 4x01, "identity theft" / scientific method, james tadd adcox / 4x02, "a stranger comes to town" / spook street, mick herron / 4x06, "hello goodbye" / spook street / war of the foxes, richard siken / 5x01, "bad dates" / my heart is a cockroach, caught in the mouth of an alley cat, kyla pereles / 5x01 / hum, hum, mary oliver / 5x01 / 3x04
hiii again im in a les arbes fixation and theres this whole au in my head of if river actually stayed with frank but idk if he wanted to(?) like maybe mi5 tried to kill him (again) and it was a better option to stay there but also his relationships with patrice and bertrand and yves (canon divergence nobody’s dead here) and they might be kinda annoyed that a) he had a normal childhood (although i dont think they ever have any desire to leave les arbes so its not envy of that its just dislike for it) and b) hes not more like them
i think river’s failspy-ness would 100% transfer into failassassin and as much as frank would get so angry at his incompetence he’d still have to try and encourage him about potential and stuff to make him not try to leave because as good as river is at getting into predicaments he somehow manages to get out of them most of the time
also entirely different au from if he was at les arbes from the start and maybe he just wasnt suited to such a competitive whos the best at killing environment where any incompetence led to being berated and probably abused in other ways where all of it is brushed off under the guise of fulfilling potential and being efficient and Good At Things which probably wasn’t river’s strong suit
i think the others would want to protect him by trying to get him to behave how frank wants him to but have different motives in terms of are they not wanting to see their brother get hurt and/or are they just trying to make sure that river’s escape attempts dont get them all punished by frank
in either setting its clearly less ‘lets all run away from this Very Bad Situation!! and help each other through it’ and more ‘stop fighting it or youll get us all killed’ because the others have no intention to leave, nor do they particularly dislike it there (because they grew up like this and its all they know or just unspecified reasons of yk assassin cult theyre learning to be Good At Things thats great right?)
sorry very long ramble but i love to play around with these dynamics so much!!
Those both sound super interesting! Season 4 fucks with my head quite badly so I don't read Les Arbes fics, but I wish I could because it is fascinating to think about what River would be like in that setting.
First Slow Horses fic posted! Never thought my return to posting fic would feature WLW, but here we are. This is part of the Slow Horses Ship Wheel challenge. The idea is to give less featured characters and ships some love. Please check out everyone else's work and feel free to join in the fun!
This piece does have minor spoilers for book 7: Slough House, but nothing crazy.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
slowburn or love at first sight ||| fake dating or secret dating ||| enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers ||| there’s only one bed or long-distance correspondence ||| hurt/comfort or amnesia ||| fantasy au or modern au ||| mutual pining or domestic bliss ||| smut or fluff ||| canon-compliant or fix-it ||| reincarnation or character death ||| one-shot or multi-chapter ||| kid fic or road trip fic ||| arranged marriage or accidental marriage ||| high-school romance or middle-age romance ||| time travel or isolated together ||| neighbors or roommates ||| sci-fi au or magic au ||| body swap or genderbent ||| angst or crack ||| apocalyptic or mundane ||| happy ending or unhappy ending
Most of these are not my favs, just preferences between the two. For the +1000 bookmarks I have on my AO3 (I've had that account for over a decade) I'm pretty picky with what I'm reading.
Fun fact: I often can't read time travel or time loop fanfics because the concept is existentially terrifying to me :D
