FIC: Tha Captain's Boy [REVISED] - (10/14) - Andy Serkis/Elijah Wood - PG

[precious-rosie.livejournal.com]

Title: The Captain’s Boy [Revised]
Author: precious_rosie
Pairing: Andy Serkis/Elijah Wood.
Type: RPS AU
Series: 10/14
Rating: PG - this chapter only
Disclaimer: Total fiction, from the depths of my imagination.
Summary: Set in mid 1880's, Elijah is working in a high- class male brothel. The madame has fixed him up with a very special client.
Warning[s]: prostitution, angst, angst and yet more angst
Feedback: is always welcome! *bg*.
Beta: shy_nerthuserce as always. *hugs* :-)
Archive: Mirrormere, various LOTR RPS Yahoo groups
Author’s note: This is a story that I started back in April 2003 and it received high praise. Sadly thanks to that awful thing called “real life , I’ve still got to complete it, along with several other projects. Perhaps this LJ is the kick up the backside I need!

x-posted to rockabillyblue

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine



At first Elijah didn’t know what to do.

He dressed shortly after Andrew’s departure, trying not to look at the strips of ruined tunic on the bedroom floor.

He didn’t want to return to Hanover Square.

So he walked.

And walked.

And walked further still.

He didn’t know where he was heading and he didn’t care. All that mattered was that he was out of the house and away from the memories.

“Oi!” An all-too-familiar Scottish accent attracted his attention. “Elijah!”

He turned to see Billy and Dominic, looking the worse for wear, hanging out of a rather splendid coach decorated with the Royal Arms of the Dukedom of Clarence and Avondale. Billy, ever the gentleman, was picking his nose.

“Ye oot of yer way here, wee hen!” called Billy, as Dominic banged on the coach ceiling and stuck his head further out of the window to yell up at the coachman to stop.

Reluctantly – and yet glad of their company – Elijah climbed into the coach as Billy held the door open for him and Dominic called back up to the coachman to carry on. There was an awkward silence as the two older boys studied Elijah with concern. He was paler than normal, despite the puffiness of his eyes, which were red from crying continuously.

Billy, not usually known for his subtle behaviour, nevertheless sensed that there was something amiss and stopped picking his nose. “Ma wee hen, ye’re in a bit of state, aren’t ye?” He smiled kindly and warmly at his friend. “What happened? D’ye have a fight wi’ yer Captain?”

“Come on, Lijjy!” Dominic’s softer Lancashire tones slid over Billy’s. “It’s us. You know you can tell us anything!”

Seeking comfort, Elijah snuggled up to Billy – but despite his best efforts, there was little to be found as the petite Scot put his arms around the younger boy’s tiny frame.

“Och, ye’re shiverin’!” Billy clucked concernedly. “Let’s get back home, shall we? A nice hot bath, yes? Get ye into bed or ye’ll catch a chill – and ye won’t be any good to ye Captain, will ye, in that state! Och, darlin’ – will ye no’ tell us what’s wrang?”

Seeing Elijah’s rather dazed expression, Dominic sensed that something more serious was going on and interrupted. “Perhaps we should get him home first, eh Billy? Perhaps Elijah doesn’t feel like telling us yet.”

“Och, of course!” Billy nodded, somewhat chastened by Dominic’s remark. For all his bravado, Billy respected Dominic, despite being the elder of the two.

By the time the coach dropped the trio on the corner of Hanover Square and Maddox Street near the splendid white Baroque Church of St George’s, Billy and Dominic were practically carrying an exhausted Elijah back into the brothel. They made an unusual sight – two midshipmen and their companion in simple civvies.

The door was opened by a very sullen-looking Tom; who was yawning and displaying an equally sullen attitude. His blond hair was slicked back with grease and he was wearing one of Hugo’s old uniforms until the one that Madame Louise had ordered for him had been made. The black velveteen breeches hung ridiculously low beneath his knees and the dark blue coat with its gold braid trim hung off his thin, undernourished frame.

“Yeah?” he grunted, peeping around the door, which he held tentatively ajar.

“It’s us, you fool!” hissed Dominic, barging his way into the hallway, followed by Billy and a very wobbly Elijah. “We work here!”

Tom pointed at Elijah. “’E pissed or wot?” he scowled. “You know the ol’ lady don’t like you lot gettin’ in pissed at all hours. Like that bloody Indian Raja –”

“Dhani’s back?” Elijah interrupted him, his ears pricking up.

Tom snorted his disapproval. “Came ‘ome about four. And the ol’ lady, she don’t reckon too much. I reckon she’ll ‘ave his guts for garters, pissin’ off like that.”

She’s in for a shock! thought Elijah sadly.

**************

Over breakfast, he half-hoped to hear from his lover – perhaps he’d changed his mind about peaching on Dhani. But there were no messages from Andrew, no coded telegrams of assignations to be made, no tokens of his love.

He’s serious, Elijah thought sadly. ’E’s gone to the police!

Elijah bitterly regretted his outburst and his heart was heavy – but despite Billy’s constant questions about Andrew, he remained silent. He was close to tears and knew that if he started to cry now, he would never stop.

************

Having stormed out of the house in Crouch End, Andrew made his way back to barracks and now stood in his small office overlooking the parade grounds below him, sighing deeply. He had finished shaving and had changed into a fresh shirt.

He was delaying the inevitable. If Dhani were caught, who else would be implicated? For someone so young, the bright Scouse lad didn’t deserve whatever the authorities would do to him.

Hang him, most likely, Andrew thought, shivering. And I’m the one who will have placed the rope around his neck, figuratively speaking.

But he had to make Elijah understand.

Andrew sat down at his desk and, taking some thick cream writing paper embossed with the insignia of the Royal Lifeguards, dipped his quill into the inkwell.

He started to write.

**************

Elijah’s room, Hanover Square

“Yer wot?”

Dhani’s normally calm expression and gentle features were distorted into an ugly mask of anger. For a moment, Elijah thought he was going to explode.

“If ‘e goes and peaches on me...” Dhani’s normally impenetrable Liverpudlian accent got thicker as he got angrier.

Elijah did his best to placate the furious boy. “Please, Dhani! ‘E won’t! ‘E just got angry an’ confused. Andy is a man of honour!”

“You gave yer word!” Dhani’s voice was taking on a more threatening tone, which Elijah found un-nerving. “An’ you lied ter me! ” As quick as lightning Dhani grabbed Elijah’s arms and pinned him against the door. For such a slight boy, Dhani possessed remarkable strength.

“Don’t, Dhani!” Elijah pleaded. “I fort we were friends!”

“You promised!” Dhani was practically yelling. “Yer nuttin’ but a cheating, stinkin’ little ‘ore!”

“Well, it takes one to know one!” Elijah hissed back, his eyes blazing.

“Workin' 'ere 'as turned you soft in the 'ead! Yer nuttin’ but the Captain’s little pet, a spoilt brat!” Dhani retorted, before Elijah’s swift right hook landed across his jaw.

The fine, comfortable surroundings of Madame Louise’s brothel hadn’t diminished Elijah’s ability to use his fists and the two boys were soon engaged in a fist fight.

The noise of the resulting fracas came to the attention of Madame Louise, who was saying a passionate goodbye to Sean Bean in the hall before he left to go back up North on business. They rushed into the room to find Elijah and Dhani engaged in a full-scale scrap on the floor.

With the ease of someone picking up a handkerchief from the floor, Sean separated the two boys, holding each rather roughly by an ear. “Ye’re a couple of scallies!” he roared at them. “Wi’ all this carryin’ on, it’s a wonder the ’ole of London don’t hear yer! Look at yer Miss Louise! She ain’t a ‘appy lass!”

It was well known that Madame Louise despised any nature of fighting within her establishment. Any boy caught brawling was reprimanded and their privileges revoked for a week.

Fully aware of Elijah’s normally peaceful nature, she was somewhat reluctant to pass sentence. But it was Dhani’s unexpected coarse, brusque Scouse accent that had really shocked her.

“I think – I think –” She was unable to form a coherent sentence. “I think I deserve an explanation!”

************

Andrew’s beautifully scripted letter was almost complete. He had already made about six attempts to write to Elijah, though he didn’t know why: the boy could barely read.

But it had to be written: what else could he do?

************

It was difficult keeping anything quiet at No 20 Hanover Square, so it was decided to bring the entire household into the dining room for Dhani’s “interrogation”.

Orlando’s constant twittering about having to meet Sir Ian for lunch was halted by Sean, who had taken a reluctant instant dislike to the lad months ago; exasperated by the boy’s maundering, Sean told him in no uncertain terms that this gathering was important and that he needed to be there. For a moment an indignant Orlando looked as though he was about to protest – and then, having taken full note of the stern expression on Sean’s face, thought better of it.

Despite only having been Madame’s “gentleman friend” for a few months and the subject of gossip as her “mystery caller”, Sean Bean was already respected and revered by both boys and staff in the brothel. He had literally bumped into Madame Louise one afternoon whilst walking across Grosvenor Square. Having accidentally knocked some flowers out of her hand he had apologised profusely and then bought her some more from a nearby vendor, before engaging her in conversation and establishing where he could find her again.

Later that afternoon he had arrived at Hanover Square with another armful of flowers, and been invited to take tea. Before the afternoon had ended, the Madame had been smitten with “Jack”, as she called him, and he with her; the fact that she ran a male brothel did not faze Sean Bean: after all, she was still a businesswoman.

Now it was as though the fair-haired Yorkshire mill owner had always been a part of the brothel “family”; he’d quickly been accepted by everyone and even Orlando understood that he had to do what Sean Bean told him. He put money into the business and jokingly referred to himself as a shareholder. For many of the boys, this handsome green-eyed man was the father-figure they’d never had in their lives and he was as well respected as the Madame herself.

***********

Knowing there was no way back now, Dhani was almost relieved to be relating his story as he had told it to Elijah, taking in all the incredulous faces, the shocked expressions, and the wonderment of his audience.

Tom and Daniel listened enraptured as if they were being read some penny dreadful. Billy and Dominic sat transfixed, unable to comprehend the full horror of what they were being told, whilst Orlando’s protests about living in a house with a murderer were soon silenced by Sean, who did most of the questioning.

Madame Louise, for her part, was appalled at being duped by such a slip of boy; but at the same time she was impressed by the sheer nerve and talent that had enabled Dhani to carry off his assumed Indian Prince persona. And as for that so-called Count, that bloody confidence trickster! Well, he’d got what he deserved.

But one thing was established and agreed – no one outside the brothel would ever know what had happened. Honour amongst whores: the wall of silence that closed in amongst their kind.

Sean listened intently as he puffed on a cigar, and then turned to Elijah, who’d remained silent throughout the proceedings. “You say the Captain has gone to the police, eh, lad?”

Elijah nodded miserably.

Sean stood up. “Right. Tell yer what; I’m leavin’ for Liverpool meself. There’s a shipment of cloth from India due to dock tomorrow. I’ll take the lad, like ‘e wants and pay for ‘is passage to America – but not before I go and knock some sense into the ‘ead of that fine Captain o’ yours!”

***********

While Dhani was upstairs packing, downstairs was awash with excitement.

“He doesn’t look the sort!”

“Who does?”

“Wonder ‘ow ‘e did it?”

“Och, it was a clever plan. The wee laddie has the patience of a *saint* t’ be waitin’ all these years!”

“He certainly behaved like a Prince.” Orlando’s quiet comment echoed the observation that Andrew had made to Elijah. He’d remained silent and withdrawn throughout Dhani’s confession, angry at being ridiculed. “To think I gave lessons in English to that – that –” For once, Orlando was lost for words and, despite his usual annoying airs and graces, the other boys were sympathetic concerning Orlando’s bruised feelings.

Madame Louise spoke quietly to Sean. “Are you sure* you know what you’re doin’? We could all be ‘ad up for accessories to a murder – we could ‘ang!”

Sean held her tightly, gently kissing her forehead. “As long as we don’t arouse suspicion, there’s nowt t’worry about. There’s been nothin’ in the papers about a missing Danish Count, ‘as there lass?”

She shook her head. “Nothing this morning – and from what Dhani was saying the body could be anywhere from here to Kent if it’s been dragged by a boat.” She paused and shook her head. “I can’t believe the Captain would –”

Sean kissed her again, running his hands across her back. “Don’t fret now, lass – it’ll all be right in the end. I’ll make sure of it!”

***************

Andrew tore up the letter he had sealed in an envelope and threw it on the freshly-made fire, along with the previous attempts.

What was he thinking? What *was* he thinking?

*************

Elijah knocked timidly on the door of Dhani’s room. “Can I come in?”

The slim Liverpudlian had packed a small trunk and was fixing the straps. He looked up as Elijah entered and his face softened. “Sorry ‘bout all dat earlier!”

Elijah shrugged. “Are you glad everyone knows? It’s not like they’ll peach or nuffink. We’re all tryin’ to survive in this business.”

Dhani smiled. “I know you tried your best, kidder. It’s the Captain that needs convincing now.”

“If ‘e aint’ gone and blabbed,” Elijah sighed wistfully.

Dhani walked over to Elijah and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You know wot? I don’t fink ‘e will. It’s not in ‘is nature...”

**************

Their goodbyes were brief. Dhani promised to write – or at least to get himself an education and learn to write – once he was settled in New York which, he had assured them, was the place to be and they were all welcome to visit him.

Elijah held Dhani in a full embrace. “I don’t fink we are going to see each other again.”

“Don’t be so sure, Lijjy! I’m like a bad penny – I’ll turn up again one day. And be ‘appy, Lij. Yer got a lucky face, kidder!” Dhani ruffled Elijah’s hair. “Stay true to yer Captain. ‘E loves yer!”

And with that, Dhani left with Sean to board the waiting hansom cab. Elijah watched them through the front parlour window as they left, his heart breaking.

Behind him, Billy clamped his hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. “Tell ye what, wee yin, Dommie and I are going to a party tonight. Lots of rich gentlemen and ladies who like looking at pretty things.”

“No fanks, Billy.” Elijah moved slowly away from the window as the cab disappeared from view. Listlessly he watched Hugo gamely trying to train up Tom in the serving of drinks, without resorting to the “Whaddya want?” line in a curt and sullen manner.

“Och, it’ll be fun. Drinks and as much attention as ye can cope with –”

“No, Billy.”

“It’ll cheer ye up!”

“No.”

Billy sighed and looked at Dominic who had just entered the room. Dominic, in turn, simply shrugged helplessly.

************

The last person Andrew expected to see was the brooding, handsome Yorkshireman of about his own age, turning up unannounced at the barracks and demanding an immediate audience.

Sean had seen Andrew at the brothel a number of times when he’d arrived to visit Elijah or to pick him up to take him out for the evening. Both men had shared a drink in the parlour and a good rapport had been established between them, sufficient for Andrew to know Bean by the more informal “”Jack” rather than “Sean”.

And Sean’s down to earth, hard-nosed working class common sense wasn’t about to take Andrew’s decision about Elijah lightly, so he went straight for the jugular.

“Think of the lad,” Sean insisted, referring to Dhani. “He’s ‘eadin’ for a new life in America. Whereas if he were ‘ere – what would be his life? Whoring? Flitching? A spell in jail where he could come out worse? ‘E would most likely be ‘anged anyway! At least in America, he stands a chance!”

Andrew sighed. “It’s been on my conscience ever since Elijah told me, Jack. You would have done the same in my position.” He looked at Sean expectantly, waiting for an answer.

Sean drew a breath and pulled his shoulders back squarely. “It would depend.”

Andrew looked worried. “On what?”

“On if I truly wanted to lose the one good and decent thing in my life.”

“My family?”

“I mean Elijah, you fool! I look at you both together and I see something more than a physical attraction. It’s pure and decent. People rarely have that combination.” He looked at Andrew, who sat deep in thought, unable to meet Sean’s eyes. He was doodling idly on the blotter pad. “You know I’m right,” Sean continued, trying to see what Andrew was doing.

Andrew sighed deeply as he continued his scribbling. “Indeed you are.”

“I think you had better apologise to someone, then...”

“To Elijah?” Andrew gasped, his large blue eyes finally meeting Sean’s gaze for the first time since the Yorkshireman had started speaking.

“No, not Elijah – at least, not yet!” Sean turned and faced the door. “You can come in now, lad!” he called.

On seeing a very subdued Dhani enter the room, Andrew bristled slightly, becoming agitated. “What the –!”

Sean raised his hand. “Hear him out, Andrew!” He laid his arm across Andrew’s broad shoulders. “Just listen to him!”

Dhani looked directly at Andrew with his soul-searching dark eyes and started to speak steadily. “Tell me – you’d kill for what yer wanted to protect? You bein’ a soldier an’ all that?”

“I’ve sworn an oath of allegiance,” Andrew nodded, unable to take his gaze from Dhani’s calm stare.

“So did I. I swore I would kill the bastard who killed my da. If anyone hurt your family or –” He smiled gently. “ – The one you loved, you would do the same.”

Again Andrew nodded. He knew, deep down, that Dhani was right; a life for the life of the father it was quite obvious the boy adored. He would have done the same, he admitted reluctantly to himself, if anyone had hurt Elijah or his family – both of whom he adored with his very soul.

Andrew’s piercing blue gaze met Dhani’s dark sloe eyes, which seemed uncannily older than the boy’s years, seeing things that someone should never have known at such a young age. Placing a comforting hand on the boy’s narrow shoulders, he smiled at Dhani. “You go now, Dhani. You have a ship to catch.”

Dhani smiled back, his face seeming to light up the room. “You’re not going to –?”

Andrew shook his head. “I never was going to. If I were in your shoes, I think I would have acted in the same way. Dhani, I admire you for what you did, although I do not and cannot approve of your actions. That strategic planning – there are generals and commanding officers in the army who spend years honing that skill to perfection and they never seem to get it right. But then I suppose that’s what we do in the army: we make plans for killing people. It’s all murder in battle. We just don’t all it murder.”

Sean looked at Andrew intently. “So, what do you call it then? What would you call what Dhani did to Mortensen?”

Andrew coughed nervously as his gaze flickered from Sean’s green-eyed glare to Dhani’s unflinching, all-knowing brown, hooded angel eyes. “I call it ‘natural’ justice. Dhani’s father was murdered in cold blood and the killer got away with it, so why shouldn’t Dhani enact the justice that he knows he’d never get in a court?”

Sean and Dhani looked at each other and then back at Andrew, who was now gesturing expansively with his hands, emphasising his words as the thoughts tumbled from his lips.

“The Count would probably never suffer the ultimate punishment for the murder he’d committed, so in effect, Dhani's done the job himself...even though yes, I know we’re perhaps on morally dubious ground here...although I'm also thinking ‘an eye for an eye’. I have the notion going round my head about how war...how war can be ‘legitimised’ murder for a principle, and that Dhani killing Mortensen could be considered to be the same. If I peached on Dhani, would he get due justice or would he, too, die? Would he be judged fairly, or would he hang? My fear is that he would die – that the life of a man like Mortensen would be considered far more worthy of retribution than the death of a humble man like Dhani’s father. They’d probably never know the truth about Mortensen until it was too late – what’s some obscure Danish noble scion anyway? So long as ‘e looked the part and they believed him to be one of the blue bloods of Europe, I’m sure it would be considered highly improper to dig too deeply and look too closely. Who’s going to believe the word of guttersnipe boy against the reputation of someone like Moretnsen? And I don’t want Dhani’s death on my conscience.”

He paused and looked hopefully at Sean, who was nodding, and at Dhani, who remained inscrutable. Didn’t that boy’s expression ever change?

“I was angry when I left Elijah – of course I was. I needed to let off some steam. By the time I got back here...” He shrugged helplessly. “I knew I had to think again about everything I held to be certain and central in my life.”

“And what conclusion have you come to?” Sean asked quietly.

Andrew shrugged. “That I couldn’t turn Dhani in to the authorities. I know what our ‘betters’ can do, Jack – Dhani would never have stood a chance against the right clothes and a family crest. And I could not have let that happen to Dhani – not the friend of someone I care about.”

Sean nodded. “That’s what I thought. You’re a decent man, Andrew – and an honourable one.”

Andrew let out a hollow laugh. “I doubt my commanding officers would agree with you...” He noticed Sean looking at the idle sketches on the blotter pad and looked embarrassed. “Er – those are just some worthless drawings.”

“But these are wonderful, Andrew!” Sean looked up, suitably impressed. “Ever thought of taking it up professionally?”

Andrew smiled, still rather shyly. “I used to dabble a bit as a boy. I did want to go to art school, but my parents wouldn’t allow it! So – you think they show promise?”

“They’re bloody brilliant, man!” Sean held up the pad to show Dhani, who nodded in agreement.

“You appear to have found yer muse, Captain!” Dhani laughed.

“I thought I had lost him,” Andrew replied sadly. “And I have, haven’t I? I have lost Elijah.” He walked to the window and leaned against the sill, gazing out onto the parade ground below.

Dhani shook his head. “No you ain’t, Captain – you ain’t lost your Lijah!”

“You never saw him, Dhani. He looked so angry, so bitter!”

Sean walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I think you’ll find that Elijah is as miserable as sin! The lad is inconsolable. Why, these two even came to blows over it!”

Andrew turned and stared at Dhani. “You? And Elijah?”

Dhani grinned and shrugged. “Got a fine right ‘ook, that lad. You wanna be careful, Captain Serkis!”

“But you never saw how hurt he was when I left him, Dhani. And I never wanted to hurt him! I went too far!”

Sean pulled Andrew closer. “You always hurt the one you love, Andrew. Elijah knows you love him; he’ll forgive you. Go to him. Start a new life together. Go to art school. Get out of this bloody army. It’s not you – you’re a peaceful man. Follow yer ‘eart. I did. Got a wonderful woman. She may not be the most conventional of women, but who cares?” He then became conscious of Dhani tugging at his sleeve. “What is it, lad?” he asked gently.

“Sean,” the boy insisted. “We have to go, if I wanna make that ship!”

***********

As the trio bade farewell, Dhani looked at Andrew with some remorse.

“Mister, I’m sorry for everythin’ – all the trouble I’ve caused. But take some advice – look into your ‘eart. Don’t waste time; if somethin’s worth waiting for, it’s worth spendin’ the rest of your life with.”

Andrew offered his hand to Dhani, who shook it. “And I hope you find what you have been searching for, too. By the way – ” he asked, before the boy turned to leave. “Is Dhani your real name? It’s very unusual.”

Dhani broke into a most heartbreakingly lopsided smile that practically lit up the room. “Yes sir, that’s me name. It’s Dhani ‘Arrison. An’ you know what? It sounds grander a name than anythin’ an Indian Prince could ever ‘ave!”

Andrew watched as the two of them left, before straightening up and running his hand through his slicked-back curls.

He knew now what he had to do...

**************

Chapter 11 – to follow