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The last one : a Roarke and Summerset pre In Death Moment
Posted by
Hogwartsgirl007
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One Shots
18 July 2012
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hey Im back again!!! im going to have to organise this blog if i keep posting like this! this is just a short one shot of the night Roarke committed his final murder.
“Still no luck?” Summerset asked as Roarke trudged into the apartment that they shared on the west side. It wasn’t much, smaller than what he had in Dublin but there was too many memories, his baby daughter…
He couldn’t think about her. Not now. Not when he could see that his other child, one that was not his by blood, needed a shoulder to cry on. In the metaphorical sense of course, Roarke would never be one to cry on anyone’s shoulder no matter what the circumstance.
Summerset set the paper down as he fully took in his young sons appearance. The boy had yet to hit 22, right now he looked as though he could use a drink.
“Oh I had luck all right.” The boys face was ashen, he looked relieved, terrified, angry and miserable all at once. Summerset watched as he took a few more steps then bolted and he could hear the sounds of retching. Retching and sobbing. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do. It wasn’t making much sense, Roarke had gone off, trying to find another backer for some deal he wanted to try. He kept it close to the vest as Summerset had the vague feeling that he didn’t want to tell anyone if he didn’t succeed in making a deal. To the boy, making a deal work was the most vital thing that he could do in his life.
Summerset followed Roarke into the little bathroom that they shared and sat at the edge of the tub as Roarke continued to heave and sob.
When he was done Summerset handed him a glass of water and a towel. Roarke moved and sat against the tub and began pulling at a thread on the towel.
“They’re dead”
Summerset looked down. “ Who is dead?”
“O'Malley, Riley, Cagney, Rowan, McNee and Calhoun”
Summerset made a noise and sank to the floor beside Roarke. The bathroom was small and though the men were not huge, Roarke ended up squished somewhat by the toilet. Not that he cared much. He wasn’t sure if he was going to tell Summerset what he had done, wasn’t sure until it literally came spewing out of him.
“I didn’t end up leaving the city as advertised. I found Calhoun here in New York. Down in the bowels of the underground. He was the last.”
“You killed them.”
“They killed her.”
Summerset sighed a little, shook, then gave up and pulled Roarke to him.
Roarke squawked a little when the man grabbed him and pulled him straight onto his lap but stopped fighting it when he felt the man's tears and let himself be hugged and used as a shoulder to cry on as the man bitterly wept his daughters name, a name the Roarke himself had yet to speak unless it was to her killers. He had wanted them to know why they were dying. That it was because of the girl they tortured, raped and killed.
All in the name of hurting him.
“You could have told me” Summerset said slowly still clutching Roarke to him as though he was a small child.
“No I couldn’t have. It was my job to fix it. Well not fix it but avenge her. It was my fault.”
“No.” Summerset said it and hugged the boy closer. Roarke couldn’t help it any longer and began to squirm.
“This is so awkward.” He said and slid back as he tried to maintain some semblance of dignity. Hard to do when you know that you are squashed up against a toilet neither of you have cleaned in a few weeks.
They both sat there lost in their own thoughts for a while before Summerset started to laugh and put his head in his hands.
"Could you see her face if she saw the two of us right now?" he said and took his head out from his hands. His heart lifted at hearing that the six men were rotting in hell. He watched Roarke as the boy continued to stare at him incredulously.
"I killed them. It was my fault she died and I know that what I did ever since hasn’t made up for it because she is never coming back but…"
"I never blamed you son."
It was what Roarke needed to hear apparently for he felt his eyes fill up with all the grief and every bitter emotion that he had kept bottled in since her body was dumped on their doorstep. He did sigh as Basil… no it was Summerset now, pulled him onto his lap again for Christ's sake he wasn’t a child. But then his arms were around him and it was a feeling he could never remember having his entire life. It was that of a father hugging a son.
They both sat there for a while and cried for what they had lost, laughed as they remembered some of the good moments, and when they had both got themselves under control they got up and went into the kitchen and got something to eat.
The murder of an illegal immigrant who was wanted in Ireland on several charges, was a petty thug and brutal with the licensed companions on the street, his murder was given a cursorily glance and the case went cold.
Two weeks later Roarke signed one of his first big contracts and Roarke Industries was slowly taking flight.
His new life was just beginning and he was excited to see what he would find in New York now that his demons were laid to rest, maybe not peacefully, not yet. But he was getting there.
“Still no luck?” Summerset asked as Roarke trudged into the apartment that they shared on the west side. It wasn’t much, smaller than what he had in Dublin but there was too many memories, his baby daughter…
He couldn’t think about her. Not now. Not when he could see that his other child, one that was not his by blood, needed a shoulder to cry on. In the metaphorical sense of course, Roarke would never be one to cry on anyone’s shoulder no matter what the circumstance.
Summerset set the paper down as he fully took in his young sons appearance. The boy had yet to hit 22, right now he looked as though he could use a drink.
“Oh I had luck all right.” The boys face was ashen, he looked relieved, terrified, angry and miserable all at once. Summerset watched as he took a few more steps then bolted and he could hear the sounds of retching. Retching and sobbing. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do. It wasn’t making much sense, Roarke had gone off, trying to find another backer for some deal he wanted to try. He kept it close to the vest as Summerset had the vague feeling that he didn’t want to tell anyone if he didn’t succeed in making a deal. To the boy, making a deal work was the most vital thing that he could do in his life.
Summerset followed Roarke into the little bathroom that they shared and sat at the edge of the tub as Roarke continued to heave and sob.
When he was done Summerset handed him a glass of water and a towel. Roarke moved and sat against the tub and began pulling at a thread on the towel.
“They’re dead”
Summerset looked down. “ Who is dead?”
“O'Malley, Riley, Cagney, Rowan, McNee and Calhoun”
Summerset made a noise and sank to the floor beside Roarke. The bathroom was small and though the men were not huge, Roarke ended up squished somewhat by the toilet. Not that he cared much. He wasn’t sure if he was going to tell Summerset what he had done, wasn’t sure until it literally came spewing out of him.
“I didn’t end up leaving the city as advertised. I found Calhoun here in New York. Down in the bowels of the underground. He was the last.”
“You killed them.”
“They killed her.”
Summerset sighed a little, shook, then gave up and pulled Roarke to him.
Roarke squawked a little when the man grabbed him and pulled him straight onto his lap but stopped fighting it when he felt the man's tears and let himself be hugged and used as a shoulder to cry on as the man bitterly wept his daughters name, a name the Roarke himself had yet to speak unless it was to her killers. He had wanted them to know why they were dying. That it was because of the girl they tortured, raped and killed.
All in the name of hurting him.
“You could have told me” Summerset said slowly still clutching Roarke to him as though he was a small child.
“No I couldn’t have. It was my job to fix it. Well not fix it but avenge her. It was my fault.”
“No.” Summerset said it and hugged the boy closer. Roarke couldn’t help it any longer and began to squirm.
“This is so awkward.” He said and slid back as he tried to maintain some semblance of dignity. Hard to do when you know that you are squashed up against a toilet neither of you have cleaned in a few weeks.
They both sat there lost in their own thoughts for a while before Summerset started to laugh and put his head in his hands.
"Could you see her face if she saw the two of us right now?" he said and took his head out from his hands. His heart lifted at hearing that the six men were rotting in hell. He watched Roarke as the boy continued to stare at him incredulously.
"I killed them. It was my fault she died and I know that what I did ever since hasn’t made up for it because she is never coming back but…"
"I never blamed you son."
It was what Roarke needed to hear apparently for he felt his eyes fill up with all the grief and every bitter emotion that he had kept bottled in since her body was dumped on their doorstep. He did sigh as Basil… no it was Summerset now, pulled him onto his lap again for Christ's sake he wasn’t a child. But then his arms were around him and it was a feeling he could never remember having his entire life. It was that of a father hugging a son.
They both sat there for a while and cried for what they had lost, laughed as they remembered some of the good moments, and when they had both got themselves under control they got up and went into the kitchen and got something to eat.
The murder of an illegal immigrant who was wanted in Ireland on several charges, was a petty thug and brutal with the licensed companions on the street, his murder was given a cursorily glance and the case went cold.
Two weeks later Roarke signed one of his first big contracts and Roarke Industries was slowly taking flight.
His new life was just beginning and he was excited to see what he would find in New York now that his demons were laid to rest, maybe not peacefully, not yet. But he was getting there.
