amine_eyes: (RORY!!)
[personal profile] amine_eyes
Title: "There are Days"
Fandom: Horrible Histories
Pairing: Blenkinsop/Maltravers
Rating: G
Genre: Angst
Beta: None
Contains: Offscreen character death
Summary: Sometimes there are good days. Sometimes there are okay days. Sometimes bad days. And sometimes there are days in between.

A/N: This was written for the prompt on [livejournal.com profile] hhanon asking for either Blenkinsop or Maltravers surviving the war while the other didn't, and how they coped. And then I promptly went and wrote something more angsty than "Last one to the enemy buys the drinks in Berlin". There is no specification of who dies and who survives.

Disclaimer: Don't own, never will own :)


There are good days.

Days when he sees one of the school children get something they've been studying for weeks.

Days when the sun shines and the midges haven't taken over the school field, so they can move lessons outside for a week or so.

Days when an old friend comes to visit, and they spend hours in the pub talking about anything and everything, and the landlord smiles at his laughter and refuses to let them pay for their drinks.

Days when the snow glistens in the early morning light as he takes Rover for a walk, the only sound being the crunch of snow under his feet, and the sound of birdsong.

Days when the blossom starts to fall from the apple tree, and his niece giggles as she runs around the tree trying to catch the falling petals.

Days when the chill of autumn is in the air, and he's wrapped from head to toe in a scarf made by the well-meaning school secretary, and his class are excitedly talking about the bonfire being built on the school field, wondering aloud whether they'll get to make a Guy for it.


There are okay days.

Days when he doesn't really want to get out of bed, but Rover needs walked, he needs to go to work, to the bank, needs to eat, and so he rolls out of bed with only a wince as his back protests.

Days when he wonders if anything he's said about writing essays has sunk in, as he looks at yet another spelling mistake and incorrect fact.

Days when they have a visiting speaker at the school, and he and the maths teacher roll their eyes at the back of the room as he goes on and on about the Glory of Empire and Fighting For King And Country.

Days when he gets out too many mugs when making tea, and stares for only a moment at his hands before he puts it back with a wry smile.


There are bad days.

Days when even Rover curled up on the bed doesn't help him forget that there's supposed to be someone else there.

Days when one of the children say that being in the army looks awfully exciting, and he has to leave the room because they look so much like him.

Days when all he can see is mud and blood, all he can hear is gunfire and screams, and all he can feel is pain, cold, and fear.

Days when instead of putting the mug back in the cupboard he breaks down.

Days when he punches a visiting speaker for daring to say that him dying was a necessary price for peace.

Days when he doesn't get out of bed, he just looks at the empty space beside him and cries.



But there are good days. And okay days. And in-between days. And days that go from good to bad, and bad to good, and days that don't really make their mind up as to which day they're going to be.

And sometimes, as he sits at his desk with Rover flopped at his feet snoring away, the fire crackling away, and he looks at the photo of the two of them from before, he can smile, and only feel a small stab of pain in his heart as he looks at the laughing grins on their faces.

And it’s enough for now.
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December 2011

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