undergrounds | Five Years Later...

Five Years Later...

A lot can change in five years. Students who were at Redbright have now started their careers. People have moved out, moved in, started a new life together or apart. Some move on from the city while others return to it. But while the lives of its residents continue to grow and change, London remains as it has ever been: a focal point for magical power.

A tentative peace
The last five years have not been without conflict, both internal and external. The vampires have played with the politics of in-fighting and backstabbing. The werewolves have overthrown their leader and chosen a new alpha. The witches have suffered one scandal after another. And the fae have quietly engineered a small change here, a personal revenge there, until finally with Redbright and Hillingdon acting as neutral parties a peace agreement was reached between Circle Daybreak, the Islington Nest and the East End Pack. Their territories are still beholden to the same rules (e.g. vampires are still forbidden to enter East End territory and vice versa) but they are no longer in open conflict. Small steps, perhaps, but positive ones.

A delicate balance
The year is 2022. The balance of power in the city is now evenly split between the East End Pack, Islington Nest and Circle Daybreak, thanks largely to the rise of the werewolves and the new President Laura Roslin who simultaneously holds the post of Werewolf Representative.

Samantha Okeke lost her position as Witch Representative following allegations of corruption, and has been replaced by Diphylleia "Dee" Absin, a much more co-operative member of the Night Council. While Samantha has retained her title of Mother of Witches, there are rumours that she lost her powers during a confrontation with a powerful fae. Circle Daybreak firmly denies all such speculation.

The connections between the Redbright Institute and the Hillingdon Clan have grown stronger since the former is now perceived to be a more neutral force rather than tied to the Night Council, although Hillingdon certainly still has the less clean-cut image of the two.

Meanwhile, the Seelie and Unseelie Court have largely withdrawn from public life in the mortal realm except in isolated corners, though they claim the right to go where they please throughout the city. Consequently, there are no barriers preventing travel between the realms, which seems for now to be an acceptable compromise.

And after all, politics is the art of compromise.

Looking ahead
All in all, the vampire and fae presence in the city has reduced as the vampires move around and the fae decide that if they're invited it can't be that great a party anyway. The number of witches has recovered thanks to an amnesty allowing those who were once members of Circle Midnight to return (though the faction itself has not reappeared).

The biggest change that has been noticed first by staff at the Redbright Institute however is the increasing number of meta humans, in particular young meta humans, being discovered in the city. Often these are humans with no knowledge of the supernatural developing their powers for the first time. The reason why has yet to be discovered...

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Her lips part as she listens to Eames speak. Her stomach clenches as he speaks, swirling inside her. But she holds Eames' eyes as he speaks to her, ignoring the tears streaming down her cheeks. He's right, he's so fucking right. He would kill her the second she said she was leaving. And this baby their baby wouldn't change a damn thing. Nothing had changed Bill. Not even jail time.

She'd seen now how boys who grew up in that sort of environment turned out. Bill had been taken under Fagin's wing too, hadn't he? And the terrible things that monster did... She didn't want a painful life for her child. She wanted a happy, loving family.

She had loving. But Nancy had yet to find her happy.

"I know," she whispers, "but I don't know what I'm going to do without him."

"You'll figure it out," Eames says softly, swiping a thumb under one of her eyes, "you're smart, and I know you might not have expected to live this long, but you're still young. Even for a mortal."

He adds that last bit with a small uptick to his voice and a little smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. A little levity for a stressful situation.

The gesture nearly gets her crying again, but instead she channels the tears into a large hug for Eames, squeezing him as tight as her body would allow.

"Thank you. Thank you, thank you. I can't do this without you."

"I told you," Eames says, putting his arms around her to squeeze her back, "I'll be here to help you."

"I'm so so sorry," she tells him, "I've put you through hell."

Eames makes a gentle shushing noise; he can't exactly say it's fine, but he doesn't want to talk about all that right now.

"Let's figure out what the next step is," Eames says instead, bypassing the issue of guilt and apologies altogether.

She sniffles, letting go of Eames just slightly.

"Okay... a place to stay? I need to go back and get my things." She had left with nothing but the whiskey bottle and the clothes on her back.

"I'll come with you, and I can put you up in a hotel until we figure out something more long-term." He raises his eyebrows, "how does that sound?"

She nods. "Thank you- maybe- maybe the Angelo?" She was familiar with the place, and vampire territory is not exactly a place that Bill would be safe to venture into. "I can call Cesare." He wasn't in London anymore, but they still spoke, from time to time.

Bill had beaten her for their friendship, though he did that with anyone he thought looked at her too long.

Much as he hates Cesare, it's a good idea. Eames will pay for the room if the Borgia doesn't put her up for free.

"Let me make you breakfast first," he says, stroking her hair again, "eating for two and all that."

Oh, Cesare would certainly put her up for free. Then she coudl spend the night taking a long bath and getting drunk on champagne and staying up all night worrying about Bill and trying desperately not to answer her ringing phone or his thousands of texts.

Her stomach churned just thinking about it. Tonight was going to be the worst night. And she couldn't even drink if Eames was here.

It's funny, he's the one offering to make breakfast this time, and Nancy has to laugh. It's the sad, desperate laugh of a girl who needs to find something funny because if she doesn't she's going to cry again. "Yeah- yeah, that'd be lovely, Eames. Real lovely. Anything I ate lat night I threw up this morning."

Well he has no idea how morning sickness works-- is it triggered by anything? Do some foods make it worse? No idea. He'll just stay away from the kind of stuff he avoids when Arthur's come down with a bug.

Scrambled eggs sounds like a good shout, plus some toast. Maybe a sausage?

This is rapidly turning into a full English in his head, and Eames presses a light kiss to Nancy's forehead before he gets up to cook. And make that tea he'd forgotten about during their conversation, setting a mug down and taking the bottle of whiskey with him before she gets any ideas.

Nancy smiles at the kiss. She's content to stay in the book while Eames stands. The faster they get her fed the better. "Thank you," she whispers again.

No sooner has she reached for the whiskey has Eames absconded with it. "Let me have another drink, Eames. just another one won't hurt anything."

"Every drink hurts." He's pretty sure that's true for mortals anyway. They're very fragile, just about anything can kill them. It's a wonder they've lived so long for there to be so many of them honestly.

Anyway, he's going to start cooking. Pulling off his hoodie and dropping it on the counter while he sets about making enough food for the two of them.

"Just for today," she urges. "I'm leaving the man I've been with since I was twelve. Let me have a bloody drink."

She'll stop tomorrow.

He feels for her, he does, but he's not giving in. Eames just raises his eyebrows and looks up from the frying pan with a slightly apologetic expression. But only slightly.

"We both know you're going to drink when I leave you at the Angelo," as much as he'd rather she didn't, it's not like Eames has done anything to curb that addiction, "just humour me until then."

Nancy frowns intently at him. But it's the least she can do, for all the help he's giving her. For letting her come into his home again and promising to help her when she was just this scared kid.

"Alright," she say with a sigh, and adjusts herself in the nook. Nancy places the soles of her feet on the chair, bringing her knees up to her chest.

"Smells good."

Eames hums in the affirmative, agreeing. It does smell good; a good, hot meal usually does. Especially when it involves eggs and sausages and beans. Toast too, but that's the least interesting part of the whole thing.

It shouldn't take long, maybe fifteen minutes before he's presenting Nancy with a decently huge breakfast, sitting down with a smaller plate of his own and two fresh cups of tea.

Nancy's happy to watch Eames for the next fifteen minutes. She uses the time to try to calm herself a bit more, to prepare herself for what they were going to do today.

When he slides the food in front of her, and takes a seat, Nancy smiles up at him and goes for the tea first. "Look at this- I've missed your cooking, you know that?"

"I hear it's one of my finer qualities," he says, half an amused smile on his face at his own comment. It is relatively consistently one of the things people like best about spending time with him.

"It is." Nancy's already a few bites into her food, forgetting, in all of this, just how hungry she was.

"You take such good care of me, Eames."

"Don't." He lifts his fork, shaking it a little in a gesture for her to stop. He'd never thought of himself as someone who looks after people and he's not about to start.

"I'm just doing what I said I would."

Nancy does something rare: she stops.

"I know. But... You know what I come from." Her eyes meet Eames' over the top of her forkful of beans.

Nancy's quiet for a few more moments, focusing on her food. Soon enough, she breaks the silence once more: "Uncle or Grandpa?" she asks softly.

Eames is happy for the quiet, eating and appreciating his food, so the question totally catches him off. He actually chokes on his mouthful of eggs and reaches for his tea to try and wash it down, coughing and patting his chest.

"What?" Don't do this to him don't make him family.

Too late. he's her dad now.

"Yeah," she says earnestly. "What would you want the baby to call you?" If she carried it to term. If she stayed away from Bill. If. so many ifs.

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