undergrounds | [OPEN: PLOT] KIDNAPPED BY VAMPIRES?!

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[OPEN: PLOT] KIDNAPPED BY VAMPIRES?!

There aren’t many narrow, dark alleyways in Richmond -- but there are some.

Lancelot only needs to walk down one to get in trouble.

He’s cutting through between houses on his way back from Tesco. He hadn’t meant to be long, just needed some fresh milk and a loaf of bread for next week, so he’s only dressed in a light t-shirt and some cut-offs. The air is still warm even this late, and he’s distracted -- half tapping his phone awake every so often wondering if he should say something. Faolan doesn’t normally stand him up, but it has been difficult lately. Then again what if something happened? Should he check? He doesn’t want to be clingy, after all…

His senses prickle, telling him something is happening, and he barely gets enough time to turn around before something is being swung at him. There’s a soft clack as his phone hits the ground and skitters away into someone’s front garden, and bread and milk get dumped unceremoniously into someone’s bin before the vampires vanish away.

All the lights are on in his flat, music still softly cycling through his library, but anyone who hops the fence into his back garden will realise Lily is pacing the kitchen all alone.

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

Faolan is a man dedicated to his job, dedicated to his cause, and dedicated to finding an answer when a challenge presents itself to him. Which is why, when confronted with the issue of what to do about Raymond, he finds himself struggling with the dilemma. Of course the vampire is a maniac, a danger to the public, but he is also currently faction leader for Islington, which means that by proxy, he is creating a danger through his vampires as well.

It gives him a lot to think about, which is exactly what he's doing, going over various reports of vampire activity from the past month, taking note of the steady incline of injury or homicide at the hands of the Islington vampires, and correlating it with the changes in policy that the vampires have enacted since then. He's not sure exactly what he's looking for, but he knows he'll find it if he just looks hard enough. And in fact, he's looking so hard that he works straight through the time that he'd arranged to meet up with Lancelot, and a good hour beyond that point before he realizes what he's done and leaps to his feet to track down his mobile with a curse.

Lancelot's mobile rings out with no response and Faolan curses again before shooting him a quick text to apologize for himself. And then another to ask if he'd rather reschedule. While Faolan waits for a response he checks the time and clears up his desk for the night. Putting away the reports and locking them up in the bottom drawer of his desk. Grabbing his phone and impatiently waiting for a response as he slips on his jacket and jogs downstairs to the main floor.

Ten minutes pass and he tries calling again. The phone rings out. Faolan wonders whether Lancelot had just gone to bed at this point, but it's early yet. Maybe he's left it on vibrate? He calls a few more times in succession, all of them ringing out to voicemail. He leaves one, as he heads out to the train station, deciding he might as well head to Lancelot's flat to apologize for himself, if nothing else. Sending another text, asking him if he's alright with that. Waiting for a response as he makes the trip that never comes.

By the time Faolan's made it to Lancelot's neighborhood, he's made his way through feeling guilty, then angry at himself, then angry at Lancelot for reacting this way, then working his way increasingly through a state of concern. He's pulled far more stupid stunts than missing a planned get-together with Lancelot, and the other man had never purposely stopped talking to him then. He tries to reason out what might have happened, maybe he had a headache, maybe he'd gone to bed, but the fact is that until Faolan knows for certain he can't help but feel an increasing amount of dread building up within him.

A feeling that does nothing to dissipate as Faolan reaches the other man's flat to find the lights on, the doors locked, music quietly seeping through from the stereo, and no response to the door. Not even when he rings the bell several times. The fact that he can hear Lily pacing inside concerns him even more, to the point where he decides to pop over to Lancelot's neighbor's to beg the key off of her (on the pretense that he'd lost the one he'd been given, which earned him a wary once-over but he'd been over enough to be recognizable at this point, for better or worse).

It doesn't take long for Faolan to determine that he isn't home. Nor does it take him long to determine that there's more at play than the other man being angry at him at this point. Whatever Lancelot might be feeling about Faolan after he'd skipped out on him that night, Lancelot would never leave Lily alone like this.

After three hours, sitting in the other man's flat with his dog, calling his mobile with no response, Faolan knows without a doubt that something is wrong. That Lancelot is missing. And come hell or high water, he will find him, he will find who did this, and he will make them pay.

((ooc: there are three threads below -- feel free to tag into one or more as you like! planning for this plot began here, but if you hadn't tagged into that please don't let that stop you from participating in this plot! LET'S RESCUE LANCELOT YOU GUYS!!))

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Faolan does his best to determine the other man's condition and whether or not he should be taking him to the hospital regardless as to what either of them might want before he decides that Lancelot will do well enough just recovering at home. Being able to see Lily again, reassure himself that while all of this might have happened to him Lily on the other hand is more than alright -- Faolan thinks that might do wonders for Lancelot's recovery as well.

With as weak as the other man is, he feels guilty for the fact that he has to drag him a few blocks away before he feels comfortable enough to call for a taxi and even then he makes certain to have his revolver loaded in his pocket (which is extremely illegal but he doesn't really care, in the end). He gives the company his name, mobile number, and the address of the building they're waiting outside of, receiving the reassurance that the ride shouldn't be too far off, before he turns back to Lancelot, his concern for the other man written all over his face.

"Shouldn't be too much of a wait." He pauses a beat, before speaking up again to ask, "How are you doing?"

How is he doing?

The look Lancelot shoots up at Faolan is slightly incredulous. He feels cold, tired and in pain, his hands are numb and he's once again wearing a leather jacket too small for him over his shoulders.

He think it should be reasonably obvious he's not doing well.

"Fine," is what he says. He's sitting hunched over on a low wall bordering someone's front garden from the pavement, quaking just enough for it to be noticeable. Lancelot doesn't really want to talk about it, not least because he really wants to be home and, also, to not be in pain. It's hard to focus.

Faolan narrows his eyes slightly, well aware that Lancelot's not 'fine' at all. Well aware that Lancelot probably doesn't want to talk about it, no, but then again Lancelot seems to have a chronic problem of 'not wanting to talk about it' when that's basically exactly what he should be doing. At least he's sitting down, he thinks to himself, though the way he's shaking is creating a tight knot in Faolan's chest.

He makes a soft, noncomittal noise that could mean anything either way before stepping back towards him and moving to take a seat at his side. He isn't certain whether or not he's allowed to touch him. He isn't certain there's anything he can do to try to help that won't just end up hurting as well. Now that Lancelot's rescued, he feels at a loss. Up until he found Lancelot, he had it all figured out. Now...

"I can have them take you to hospital if you want," Faolan offers again, feeling that he should even though he knows Lancelot will no doubt turn it down, just as he had the first time. He glances aside at the other man. "Or I can have them take you home. Lily won't be nearly as good a nurse, but I'm sure she'll try her best..."

Lancelot shakes his head a little at that, eyes flicking up to Faolan then out to the road.

"No, I don't--" Well. Painkillers, actually, would be nice. He pauses, debates this, hesitates as his eyes lift up and around to Faolan again. "Forgive me -- mostly I think I want some painkillers so I can sleep. Something to take the edge off."

Sleep, he thinks, will go a long way to making him feel better. Sleep and some food, actually.

Faolan watches the way Lancelot responds, takes in the way he hesitates, and isn't certain what that hesitation means exactly. Nor what his response to follow means exactly either.

"We can go there," he offers again, "but there might be a wait." Hell, more likely than not there would be one. "Or I can take you home. If we swing by mine, I can fetch something a little more stronger than anything you'd get over the counter. It should help. I can pick up the materials to get you cleaned up as well. But I need to know that it wouldn't be the wrong decision," he says, frowning worriedly at the other man. "If you think you need a doctor, you need to let me know that, alright?"

"I will be fine," Lancelot assures him again, "if you have something you don't mind sharing I would be grateful."

He doesn't really want to go through the song and dance of trying to explain vampire bites to a nurse, especially not with Faolan there. He's both protective and easily flustered if someone assumed wrong -- a combination Lancelot can only imagine making the experience tiring.

"I will keep an eye on my injuries, I promise, but it's nothing worth taking up time in A&E."

People with 'real injuries', so far as Lancelot sees it, should be the ones there.

Faolan nods slightly. He doesn't particularly want to visit A&E either -- he hates the place, and god knows how long they'd be there, how many questions they might be asked, and what, with wounds like Lancelot's. But he'd do it, for Lancelot. If he'd wanted. (He's just grateful that he doesn't, honestly.)

"Okay," Faolan says, although to be honest he has just as much intention of keeping an eye on Lancelot's injuries himself. "We'll stop for that first then." He glances at the other man, the way he's holding himself, the way he's clutching his jacket about himself and the general state he's in.

"I'll let you stay in the taxi while we do, though," he offers, hoping that the other man will take it as the joke it is. Hoping that he'll appreciate his attempt to lighten the mood between them and that it won't just fall flat (like so many of Faolan's attempts at humor do).

He isn't entirely sure he wants to stay in the taxi, but Lancelot gives a faint nod -- eyes darting out around the road warily watching for when it arrives.

"Thank you," he says instead, shifting to press a little against Faolan's side. "For all of this."

For getting him out, offering to take him home, offering painkillers, for worrying. All of it. Faolan is a good friend to him, and Lancelot isn't sure how he will ever make all this up to the man.

Faolan glances to the side at the other man as Lancelot shifts to press against his side and speaks up to thank him. For all of it, he says, and he's not exactly sure how much that really means to encompass, but he feels slightly self-conscious about it nonetheless. He wonders whether Lancelot would be thanking him if he knew everything he'd done in the past few days, leading up to this moment. Whether he'd be thanking him for all of it or not. But he's not going to get into specifics with the other man.

He moves to gently brace his arm around the other man, equally a protective gesture, so much as he is returning the affection of the other man's pressing against him. He shakes his head slightly. "I'm just glad that we were able to find you," Faolan admits, quietly. "I'm just glad you're safe now. When you wouldn't answer your phone... When I couldn't find where you were..." Faolan trails off, shaking his head again before moving to hang it between his shoulders.

"Lancelot, I'm. I'm sorry," he says, softly. "I was. We were supposed to meet up but I got distracted. If only I hadn't, if only I'd been there on time, then maybe..."

Edited 2016-08-31 23:48 (UTC)

"Don't," Lancelot interrupts softly. "you can't know if it would have made a difference. They might just have picked a different day if you'd been with me."

Which might have been worse, if Faolan had no reason to be contacting him so frantically. It might have take longer for them to notice, then longer to find and get to him. Lancelot isn't sure what would have happened if he'd been there longer, but he doubts he would have enjoyed it.

It's true of course. They could have picked another day. And just like Lancelot is considering, so too does Faolan consider the idea of what might have happened if he hadn't had a reason to go looking for him so soon after he was taken. He would be concerned once Lancelot hadn't shown up for work the next day, but it was only Sunday -- there might have been a chance he'd need to wait another day for Faolan to bven realize that something was wrong, never mind start the search.

He tightens his arm around the other man slightly before nodding. "I did my best," he says instead. "As soon as I knew you were missing..." He glances back in the general direction of the house they'd come from. "I asked for help. Hillingdon has a lot of good trackers. Sirius, and Daryl... Even Annie. I couldn't have done it without them." Not the tracking. He doesn't know whether he could have handled it all emotionally either, though he's not going to elaborate on that specifically.

Lancelot takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and turns his face toward Faolan. He can feel the tickle of the man's hair against his face, his arm around him, and it all helps ground him for a moment. Helps remind him that he's safe.

"Thank you," he murmurs again softly, because he isn't entirely sure what else there is to say. He's out of there, he's safe. Faolan has made sure of that.

Small talk is difficult right now. He's too hungry and tired and in pain to fill space effectively. If he isn't careful Lancelot is quite sure he might fall asleep on the other man. That's probably the blood loss, he thinks idly.

Faolan doesn't answer with anything remotely resembling 'you're welcome', largely because he's not certain whether he deserves the thanks or not. He just did what he had to -- what he needed to, to see Lancelot safe. And he would have done more if it was necessary. He would have given everything he had to get Lancelot back, and he doesn't know what to think about that.

So he doesn't say anything resembling 'you're welcome'. Instead he rubs the other man's shoulder gently as Lancelot tucks himself against him, and simply offers, "Always."

He sits with his arm around the other man, holding him close against his side and rubbing his shoulder gently before he catches sight of the taxi pulling up in front of them and with a slight squeeze of his hand, slowly disengages. "Come on," he says, gently. "Let's get you out of here." He moves to stand and turns to help Lancelot stand himself, if he needs it.

The taxi is a welcome sight. Lancelot wobbles to his feet and slips over to it, climbing in then hesitating as he tries to decide how to arrange the seat-belt while wearing a jacket-cape. He shrugs it off eventually, folds into his lap and keeps hold of it without really thinking why. He lets Faolan deal with the taxi, eyes drifting over as Faolan gives his adjusted destination before climbing in and settling. He flickers a slight smile as Faolan reaches over for his hand, lets him take it but his attention still drifts all over.

When the taxi comes to a stop he focuses suddenly, eyes fixing on Faolan as he starts to unbuckle and get out.

"Do you -- mind if I come up?" he asks, uneasy. He just doesn't really want to be left alone in the car, for a whole host of reasons.

Faolan gives the driver his address and shoots the other man such a look as he helps Lancelot settle, as if he is daring the man to assume that any of this was his fault so that he can take some of the anger he feels at Lancelot's captors out on the man himself. Wisely, the driver seems to understand that despite Lancelot's rough shape Faolan is helping him and Lancelot seems grateful for it, so he stays well enough out of it and drives him to Faolan's flat as requested.

One they arrive, Faolan lets the driver know there will be another destination and makes the necessary arrangements to keep the taxi idling outside while he leaves. It's just as he's starting to move that Lancelot turns to him to ask to join him. Faolan hesitates for a moment -- his building doesn't have a lift after all, wouldn't Lancelot be more comfortable out here in the taxi? But then it dawns on him and a whole new protective surge wells up inside himself at the thought of it.

"I... No, of course not," he replies, glancing at the driver to make certain that he understands he should still stay where he is, before back at Lancelot. "You can take the first dose upstairs even, if you like. Maybe that way it will start working before we've even got you back home yet, then. Here..." He moves to exit the taxi and crosses over to Lancelot's door itself, opening it for the other man and standing by to assist in any way that he needs to -- god knows what Lancelot's been through in the past few days after all. He isn't sharing and Faolan doesn't really think that now is the time to ask either.

He relaxes a little in relief, nods and slips to get out the car. It's a good idea, and the prospect of painkillers sooner rather than later perks him up even.

"Good idea," he answers, and sticks close to his side as he begins to walk. He doesn't lean on him, partly because moving a hand to put weight on him at all might hurt and partly from pride. His legs work fine anyway, it's his upper body that hurts the most. He can do stairs. Even if he'd rather do sleep.

Faolan glances aside at the other man every now and again as they make their way up the stairs to his flat, and he makes certain that he's close enough to Lancelot's side that he should be there, should anything happen. He's not really anticipating it -- he seems not to have a problem with his legs, but he looks at times like he could pass out on his feet (in a falling asleep standing sort of a sense) and Faolan wants to make certain that it doesn't happen literally.

As he reaches the door he realizes he isn't wearing his jacket anymore and turns to the other man, gently reaching out to take it from him. "Thanks," he says, fishing in the pockets before he retrieves his keys and pushes the door open to let Lancelot in, flicking on the light as he does.

"Make yourself comfortable, if you like," he says, "it shouldn't be too long. Do you need anything else?" Water? Another shirt...?

"Do I need water for the painkillers?"

Or is it... something else? Syringes? Dimly Lancelot wonders just what sort of stash Faolan has and how legal it is, but he isn't in a position to throw stones when it will be helping him. So he drops to sit on the edge of the sofa, a little carefully at that. Watches Faolan as he goes to dig for things.

He won't ask for a shirt because he doesn't want to suffer the pain of taking off the one he has on yet.

While Faolan has used and even possessed injectable painkillers in the past, he doesn't own a complete pharmacy and as such, isn't about to go sharing his used syringes with Lancelot. No matter how much he might want him to feel better. Faolan knows better than that at least.

"I can do water," he responds, fetching the right bottle from inside his medicine cabinet, squinting at it to make sure that he has the right one before padding back into the main room where the other man is waiting for him. He moves to cross the room to fetch Lancelot a water bottle from the fridge and hands it to the other man. "Here," he says, and opens the medicine to tap two pills out which he hands to Lancelot as well.

"See if you need more after that," he says, slipping the bottle into his pocket as he does. "I'll have it with me just in case you do." And he will be controlling it so that Lancelot doesn't accidentally overdose himself at first for that matter as well.

Lancelot takes the pills overly carefully, frowns a little as he lowers the water bottle so he can unscrew it without lifting his arms too much then visibly debates his choices. He takes a deep breath finally and flinches as he quickly tosses back the painkillers and chases them with water. He exhales sharply through his nose in pain, fumbles the cap onto the bottle and drops it to stand on the floor while he recovers from the movement, fingers flexing as he braces himself against the feeling until it starts to ease.

"Thank you," he says finally, and blinks up at Faolan so he can force a faint smile. Hopefully it works and his arms will be easier to move soon, because he feels wretched at the moment.

Faolan watches him through the whole ordeal of simply taking the medicine and wonders if there might be something more he can do. Maybe when he gets back to Lancelot's place, but he shouldn't make him linger here, he decides. Lancelot undoubtedly just wants to go home.

He doesn't know what to feel about the fact that Lancelot is forcing smiles at him either when he knows how much he has to be hurting. He wishes that the other man would be more honest with what he feels -- and yet at the same time he supposed he doesn't. Lancelot probably would have told Faolan to get lost a long time ago, if he weren't so kind and understanding as he is.

"Of course," he replies. He watches the other man for a long moment before he moves to continue gathering whatever he might have that Lancelot might not back at his. Materials for cleaning those bites in particular. Quickly shoving them all into a bag before making his way back out to Lancelot. Stooping, after a moment's consideration to pick up the water bottle he had dropped to the floor, intending to carry it with him. God knows when the last time he'd had food or water, he probably would want the rest.

"Ready?" he asks softly, though he can't keep the concern he feels for the other man entirely out of his voice or expression.

He nods and gets to his feet slowly, feeling oddly exposed under Faolan's gaze -- especially without any sort of jacket now to hide under.

"Yes," he answers quietly, and moves to Faolan's side. The sooner they get home the sooner he can lay down.

The taxi hasn't abandoned them, thankfully, although no doubt it's been racking up the fare as it idles. Lancelot is quiet throughout the drive, not even noticing they've arrived until Faolan is moving to get out. He fumbles to undo his seat-belt, gives a smile somewhere between awkward and faintly embarrassed as Faolan opens the door for him and struggles out with a wince.

Keys, of course, his phone and wallet and keys and everything -- he doesn't have them.

"I don't..." he begins, quietly beginning to feel internal panic. Will he have to call a locksmith at this hour? Why didn't he think of it before. If Faolan doesn't have his keys he'll definitely have to change the locks, though.

Faolan steps up and puts a hand on the small of the other man's back as he fishes into his jacket pocket yet again, this time for keys to Lancelot's flat instead. It should be noted that the pair that Faolan steps up to use to unlock the door are the keys that Lancelot himself had on his person the night he had disappeared. The set that he had dropped and left for them to find a few days ago.

He pauses in his opening of the door to glance at the other man and try to determine how steady he is on his feet, before deciding that regardless, he really has no control over how Lily greets him. He opens it carefully, making sure not to let the dog out, before he beckons the other man in.

"Someone's happy to see you again," he says, as Lily bounds forwards, and he stays ready to brace the other man against the onslaught of doggy affection even as he shuts the door behind them as well. He stands back and surveys her greeting before reassuring her softly, as much to himself as to anyone else, "I told you I'd bring him home..."

"Gently," Lancelot chides her, even as Lily lifts her paws to rest on his thighs. "Gently, gently --"

She's trying to restrain herself, but it's been so long since she saw Lancelot -- so long! Forever! She is so excited to see him!

He slides past her and drops to sit on a chair in the breakfast area, letting her fuss at him as much as she likes and smoothing her ruff.

"There were are, sit for me there's a good girl."

Faolan stands back for a moment to watch Lily fussing at Lancelot and Lancelot gently stroking her. He feels... Well, a lot of things. Above it all, he's just grateful that he could make this happen. That he could find him and bring him back home, as he had promised that he would.

"I kept an eye on her," he says, at last moving to stand straight and cross to join him at the table, setting his kit on the table itself. "While you were gone. I think she was a little cross with me every time I came back without you. But I promised her she wouldn't have to deal with me forever." He watches them for a few moments longer before starting to unpack the things he's brought, giving himself something to do as he talks. "I like to follow through on my promises, when I can."

He turns back to Lancelot and then gestures at his shirt. "Do you think you can get that off? If not, I can find some scissors..." He isn't sure whether it's worth saving it at this point.

[post-rescue]

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