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sandandwater The same event as covered before in another prompt here. This time for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
charloft and from a different POV.
March 13, 2029
“Yeah?” He was shouting into the phone, she could hear the chaos of crowds in the background—each with their own distinct set of sounds. There were the fans screaming his name, someone offered a shrill “I love you, Rory!” and he chuckled. The cat calls from photographers to get him to turn this way or that for a picture. Sascha complaining that he never put that damned phone down.
Pippa laughed as she tried to grab for the toddler running circles around her while screeching at the top of his little lungs. “Hey, baby…Marcus Alexander you stop that now, thank you. Hi, I just wanted to let you know we’re running late—as usual. Someone had to take another bath after an incident with the dog food. I guess we’ll meet you inside?”
Pippa didn’t wait for a response. She knew her husband had heard her and that’s all she needed. All right, not all, she still needed to find her left shoe. And the child, to where did he disappear? “Marcus? Marcus?”
A giggle came from under the bed. Pippa sighed in exasperation and then laughed as she stooped down to grab a sneaker-clad foot, pulling her son out from beneath the furniture. “Silly boy, we’re late. Da’s waiting for us.”
Large brown eyes, púca eyes like his father’s, lit up and Marcus MacEibhir grinned. Da. The most magic word in the three year old’s vocabulary. “Where’s at?”
“Help me find my shoe and then we’ll go see…” Pippa coaxed, her voice full of hushed excitement that was guaranteed to garner the child’s cooperation.
***
As soon as the elevator doors opened to the lobby of their West Side apartment building, the red-haired little boy took off running, curls bouncing and giggles announcing the need for people to make way. Pippa gave the doorman a thankful smile as he snared the boy with a practiced ease.
“The driver is waiting for you, ma’am. Do you want me to walk you out?” He still had Marcus under one arm—and upside down.
“Would you? Oh, that would be lovely. He’s such a handful and I can’t chase after him in these heels.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Pippa held the door for him after an awkward dance of ‘you first or I?’ their roles momentarily reversed. She decided that this year, he was getting a very nice tip at Christmas. The man really was a Godsend when she and Marcus were in the city.
“Now Master Marcus, you behave yourself for your mother, she’s a nice lady and you’re a spriteful child.”
“Am not, no.” Of course he wasn’t a sprite, he was a púca like his Da. Pippa’s warning look made the child keep this information to himself as she tried to get him to sit down and not on the hem of her gown.
“He’ll behave. Thank you.” She offered a last smile as the door was closed. “You will behave, won’t you?” More of a plea than a command as she once again sat the boy next to her, nodding at the driver that they were ready.
***
“Mam, look!” They’d barely pulled away from the curb when her little handful was once more standing up in the back of the town car. Now it was something outside that had his attention.
“Marcus! Sit down, please and put your seat belt back on.” Not that she was wearing one herself; she didn’t want the creases and wrinkles on her dress. Besides, Manhattan traffic moved at a crawl, what could possibly—
The driver slammed on the brakes and she lurched forward from her seat, arm swinging out not to brace herself but to make a grab for the toddler before he could lose his balance as well. Startled and a bit annoyed, she pulled the boy into her lap. “That is it, Marcus Alexander. You sit still and do not move until we get to the Lincoln Center. Mam has had it with the nonsense for the night.”
A colorful swear from the front seat caught her attention then and before she could reprimand the man for his language in front of her son, Pippa let out an oath of her own. Then she screamed as she curled her body around the child in her embrace, his screams joining her own, feeding on the panic and fear in his mother’s voice.
It didn’t last long; there was the screech of tires and the loud, low moan of metal twisting against metal. Glass shattering and crunching before falling away from the car’s windows, covering the passengers inside with a fine blanket of sharp glitter. The noise inside the vehicle ceased abruptly only to give way to chaos outside as surrounding traffic came to a halt and passersby called and yelled in horror at the grizzly accident.
A large truck had crashed into the town car and the car then slammed into the brick exterior of one storefront or another. The cab of the truck seemed to have sustained little damage but the car…
Pippa moaned and her arm tightened around the warm bundle against her chest, at least until the sharp pain there caused her to hiss instead. Marcus, where was Marcus? “Marc—” She coughed, tasted the coppery burn of blood in her mouth and groaned again. “Marcus?”
There wasn’t an answer and she couldn’t turn her head to look for him. “Baby?”
Oh, God…please let him answer. “Marcus!” She coughed again; more painful this time and she had no choice but to fall silent. Hot tears filled her eyes and spilled over her cheeks. A momentary thought for her makeup flittered through her mind only to be discarded. “Marc—”
“Mam.” The child’s voice was calm, quiet. She could feel a chubby hand patting her cheek.
“Baby…” Pippa’s eyes drifted closed as she murmured a word of thanks to anyone or anything that was listening. He was all right.
“Mam? Mam? Mam?” Marcus’s little boy curiosity gave way to something else entirely as she stopped speaking and grew still. Stopped breathing. “Mam?”
charloft and from a different POV.March 13, 2029
“Yeah?” He was shouting into the phone, she could hear the chaos of crowds in the background—each with their own distinct set of sounds. There were the fans screaming his name, someone offered a shrill “I love you, Rory!” and he chuckled. The cat calls from photographers to get him to turn this way or that for a picture. Sascha complaining that he never put that damned phone down.
Pippa laughed as she tried to grab for the toddler running circles around her while screeching at the top of his little lungs. “Hey, baby…Marcus Alexander you stop that now, thank you. Hi, I just wanted to let you know we’re running late—as usual. Someone had to take another bath after an incident with the dog food. I guess we’ll meet you inside?”
Pippa didn’t wait for a response. She knew her husband had heard her and that’s all she needed. All right, not all, she still needed to find her left shoe. And the child, to where did he disappear? “Marcus? Marcus?”
A giggle came from under the bed. Pippa sighed in exasperation and then laughed as she stooped down to grab a sneaker-clad foot, pulling her son out from beneath the furniture. “Silly boy, we’re late. Da’s waiting for us.”
Large brown eyes, púca eyes like his father’s, lit up and Marcus MacEibhir grinned. Da. The most magic word in the three year old’s vocabulary. “Where’s at?”
“Help me find my shoe and then we’ll go see…” Pippa coaxed, her voice full of hushed excitement that was guaranteed to garner the child’s cooperation.
***
As soon as the elevator doors opened to the lobby of their West Side apartment building, the red-haired little boy took off running, curls bouncing and giggles announcing the need for people to make way. Pippa gave the doorman a thankful smile as he snared the boy with a practiced ease.
“The driver is waiting for you, ma’am. Do you want me to walk you out?” He still had Marcus under one arm—and upside down.
“Would you? Oh, that would be lovely. He’s such a handful and I can’t chase after him in these heels.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Pippa held the door for him after an awkward dance of ‘you first or I?’ their roles momentarily reversed. She decided that this year, he was getting a very nice tip at Christmas. The man really was a Godsend when she and Marcus were in the city.
“Now Master Marcus, you behave yourself for your mother, she’s a nice lady and you’re a spriteful child.”
“Am not, no.” Of course he wasn’t a sprite, he was a púca like his Da. Pippa’s warning look made the child keep this information to himself as she tried to get him to sit down and not on the hem of her gown.
“He’ll behave. Thank you.” She offered a last smile as the door was closed. “You will behave, won’t you?” More of a plea than a command as she once again sat the boy next to her, nodding at the driver that they were ready.
***
“Mam, look!” They’d barely pulled away from the curb when her little handful was once more standing up in the back of the town car. Now it was something outside that had his attention.
“Marcus! Sit down, please and put your seat belt back on.” Not that she was wearing one herself; she didn’t want the creases and wrinkles on her dress. Besides, Manhattan traffic moved at a crawl, what could possibly—
The driver slammed on the brakes and she lurched forward from her seat, arm swinging out not to brace herself but to make a grab for the toddler before he could lose his balance as well. Startled and a bit annoyed, she pulled the boy into her lap. “That is it, Marcus Alexander. You sit still and do not move until we get to the Lincoln Center. Mam has had it with the nonsense for the night.”
A colorful swear from the front seat caught her attention then and before she could reprimand the man for his language in front of her son, Pippa let out an oath of her own. Then she screamed as she curled her body around the child in her embrace, his screams joining her own, feeding on the panic and fear in his mother’s voice.
It didn’t last long; there was the screech of tires and the loud, low moan of metal twisting against metal. Glass shattering and crunching before falling away from the car’s windows, covering the passengers inside with a fine blanket of sharp glitter. The noise inside the vehicle ceased abruptly only to give way to chaos outside as surrounding traffic came to a halt and passersby called and yelled in horror at the grizzly accident.
A large truck had crashed into the town car and the car then slammed into the brick exterior of one storefront or another. The cab of the truck seemed to have sustained little damage but the car…
Pippa moaned and her arm tightened around the warm bundle against her chest, at least until the sharp pain there caused her to hiss instead. Marcus, where was Marcus? “Marc—” She coughed, tasted the coppery burn of blood in her mouth and groaned again. “Marcus?”
There wasn’t an answer and she couldn’t turn her head to look for him. “Baby?”
Oh, God…please let him answer. “Marcus!” She coughed again; more painful this time and she had no choice but to fall silent. Hot tears filled her eyes and spilled over her cheeks. A momentary thought for her makeup flittered through her mind only to be discarded. “Marc—”
“Mam.” The child’s voice was calm, quiet. She could feel a chubby hand patting her cheek.
“Baby…” Pippa’s eyes drifted closed as she murmured a word of thanks to anyone or anything that was listening. He was all right.
“Mam? Mam? Mam?” Marcus’s little boy curiosity gave way to something else entirely as she stopped speaking and grew still. Stopped breathing. “Mam?”
