[OPEN: PLOT] KIDNAPPED BY VAMPIRES?!

[reticence]

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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[reticence]

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.

[knightscode]

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.

[reticence]

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...?

[knightscode]

"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.

[reticence]

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.

[knightscode]

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.

[reticence]

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.

[knightscode]

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.

[reticence]

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..."

[knightscode]

"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."

[reticence]

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.

[knightscode]

He hesitates at that, fingers still toying with Lily's ears. Part of him mentally recoils from the idea of having the shirt cut off him, but another part recognises that his trying to get it off on his own will hurt and might not ultimately be worth it.

"Not without help," he says finally, "moving my arms still... hurts."

To put it mildly.

[reticence]

Faolan isn't certain what Lancelot's reaction means, but he does recognize that whatever it does he isn't exactly happy about it. He looks up at the other man, trying to gauge what he should do from a response like that before deciding to just ask.

"I can help you get it off if you'd like to try and save it," he offers. "Or you can let me know where you've got a pair of scissors, to cut it off. I'm not about to tell you which choice to make. This shirt isn't actually doing too bad, but only you know how you feel right now..." And judging by the way he had handled the simple task of taking the medication earlier, Faolan is willing to bet that he isn't feeling all that great at all.

[knightscode]

Lancelot looks down at himself and lets out a slight sigh of resignation.

"There are scissors in the draw to the right of the cutlery," he offers finally. Where all the tape and batteries and other miscellany lives. He doesn't want to admit defeat, but he knows well enough that the amount of pain moving around to shrug off the shirt would cause probably isn't worth it for saving something that's already near enough ruined.

[reticence]

Faolan nods slightly and moves to stand and fetch them. He can understand to some extent why the other man might be hesitant about it but at the end of the day it's just a shirt. And it's not worth the pain that Lancelot had demonstrated earlier just to try and salvage it.

He has a fair understanding of the other man's kitchen, and as such locates the scissors quickly, returning with them in hand and attempting to figure out how best to proceed. Finally reaching for the front hem of Lancelot's t-shirt, his eyes flicking up at Lancelot's face before down to his hands on the fabric, holding it away from the other man's skin.

"This will only take a moment, try to hold still," he says, before taking the scissors to Lancelot's collar and in one swift strike, running them most of the way down the length of his shirt. What he doesn't manage to get with the scissors in the first go he reaches to tear the rest of the way with his hands, until Lancelot's shirt is hanging open before him.

He takes a moment to survey the damage the vampires have done to him, before sitting forward and moving to run the scissors down the back of his shirt as well. "Here," he says, making the final tear and then moving to slide the two separate pieces of Lancelot's shirt down and off of his arms. "The worst part is going to be putting something back on after I've got all this cleaned up, you know."

[knightscode]

He winces slightly at the sound of the fabric ripping, glances at Faolan's hands slipping the fabric away then up at his face uneasily.

"I know," he murmurs, and he does -- although he'd rather not dwell on it honestly. It's going to hurt, and there isn't much he can do about it. It's simply a fact. Even if he goes to sleep without a t-shirt or anything he only delays having to put one on, and it might hurt more tomorrow.

[reticence]

Faolan glances back up at him, supposing it isn't the sort of thing he would want to talk about no. But it needs addressed. And Faolan will be there to help, for as long as Lancelot can stand him to. He figures for at least tonight, he has the excuse to stay by the other man's side. To guard him, and keep him safe. Maybe Lancelot even welcomes the company, given his display in the taxi. Maybe that's just wishful thinking on Faolan's part.

He moves to sit back and take account of the other man's wounds. There are quite a few bites, some of them more vicious than others. He reaches for his gauze and disinfectant to begin cleaning the other man up, before glancing up at him in turn. "Tell me what happened?" he asks softly. He suspects Lancelot doesn't want to talk about it, doesn't really want anyone to know the specifics. But Faolan had been nearly out of his mind with worry. He needs to know. He needs to be certain he is doing everything right. Everything that he can, anyway.

[knightscode]

Tell him what happened? Lancelot frowns slightly at the question and drops his eyes again.

"Forgive me Faolan but I think you can see what happened."

He can see the bites, can't he? The bruises? What else does he need to know? Lancelot was kidnapped and held and drunk from. He'd really rather not talk about it, given the choice, and isn't about to start relaying the story willingly.

[reticence]

Yes, Faolan can see what happened to Lancelot physically. But he doesn't know the full extent of what Lancelot has been through in the past few days. And if the other man does not want to share, then perhaps he will never know. Faolan doesn't want to push him, but he does wonder if Lancelot might feel better for sharing. Perhaps not in the moment, but at a later time. To have unburdened himself on someone else.

That choice is for Lancelot and Lancelot alone, and so after a moment Faolan nods mutely and continues his preparations. Sufficiently soaking the gauze before glancing back up at the other man and frowning slightly himself.

"This will sting," he says, softly. It's a mild solution, but he's going to need to make sure everything's thoroughly cleaned. These are vampire bites after all, and Faolan knows better than to simply let them fester. He reaches for Lancelot's hand, turning his wrist over gently, making a mental note to put some bruise cream on the rings around his wrist as he starts on a mark on his inner arm just above it. "Let me know if you need me to stop at any point and I will," he says, glancing up at the other man to try and get a good sense of how he's handling the whole thing.

[knightscode]

He flinches slightly the first time it makes contact, but that's about as much reaction as Lancelot gives -- eyes drifting over to Lily who is surveying the whole thing with atroubled sort of expression. If she could help, she would! She does not know how to help here, though! What should she do?

There's something calming about the simplicity of her response to it all, at least. Lily doesn't judge or pity, she only knows that they are good friends and all she ever wants is to help or play or eat. Lancelot knows what to expect from her.

Faolan is a little more complicated, even though he always does mean well.

"Can you -- get me a drink?" He prompts finally, at least fighting the urge to get up and get it himself. "See if there's -- apple juice left?"

Or just something other than water, something with some degree of sugar and flavour to keep him going as the adrenaline begins to fade.

[reticence]

Faolan has started to wonder how the other man is doing, equally as concerned about the fact that Lancelot wasn't giving much of a reaction as much as he might be if he were grimacing in response to it instead. He's almost relieved when the other man stops him as he does.

"Ah..." he says, "of course. I think there should be." A comment which speaks perhaps of the fact that Faolan has been spending his last few nights here at the other man's flat, keeping Lily company. He puts the gauze down for a moment and moves to push himself up to fetch a glass and then wandering over to the fridge to fill it up. The juice seems to still be alright so he pours a drink out for the other man and pads back over to sit with him. Tentatively holding it out to the other man once he's seated, knowing this isn't going to be comfortable for the other man. "Here..."

[knightscode]

Ah, yes. He hadn't really thought ahead to the drinking part. The realisation makes him press his lips together unhappily as he slowly takes the drink, gathers up his courage before quickly taking a sip and putting down the glass with a wince.

Maybe he should buy straws. Does he have straws already? Maybe, he isn't sure.

"Thank you," he manages, and tries not to think how many actions involve lifting and lowering his arms in his life.

[reticence]

Faolan is thinking much the same himself really. Is there anything he can do to help? He needs to be able to drink. Maybe there's something he can do, something he can get for him. A straw...? Faolan thinks hard for a long moment about whether he would have one. Lancelot must not, otherwise he would have requested it too. Or maybe...

He glances over towards the kitchen counter, realization dawning on him. Well, it's already in the bin but. Given how much pain the other man is in, he doesn't think he'd mind too much? And he'd wash it off. Moving to stand, Faolan crosses the kitchen to the bin where he has thrown away a late night takeaway container complete with cup and straw for the drink he'd ordered. With a glance over his shoulder at Lancelot he grabs the straw out and moves to the sink and gives it a thorough rinsing off before crossing back to offer it to the other man.

"Here, use this if you like," he says. "I know what it looks like, but. It's clean, I promise." It was at the top of the garbage in the bin after all. "Unless you have a fresh one..." He adds, coloring slightly as he realizes that he's done all that assuming not without even asking.

[knightscode]

Lancelot watches the proceedings bemused, not fully understanding what Faolan is up to then being oddly perplexed about the how and why when he works it out.

"I might," he admits slowly, "I did buy some in May for the party, I can't remember if there are any left. The small far drawer near the wall, where the matches are."

Or, he thinks privately, Faolan could have run down to the supermarket quickly. More hygienic. Still, it's the thought that counts he supposes.

[reticence]

Ah... Faolan colors further and takes a moment to stand and cross the kitchen to go searching for said box of straws. Trying to keep himself from saying or doing anything to make matters worse. He's definitely unusually quiet while he does though, and perhaps more than a bit embarrassed. And/or mortified. There had been a time when he had had to make do with what he had. With what he was given. He keeps forgetting that isn't necessarily always (or even usually for that matter) the case.

"Here," Faolan says, at last producing a fresh straw from the drawer and holding it out to the other man. Not really attempting to look him in the eye as he had done so. All of this, he just keeps getting it wrong. No matter how hard he tries. And that's perhaps the most frustrating thing of all. What must Lancelot think of him...

He remembers to throw the other straw away again before sitting heavily in the chair across from the other man and running his hand over his face as he does. It's been a long few days of constant effort. Little sleep. And now continuing to make an idiot of himself just as before. God, is he tired.