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rainbowfic2021-08-31 09:00 pm
thisbluespirit) wrote in rainbowfic2021-08-31 09:00 pm
Ecru #1, Snow White #9, Twilight 13 [Heroes of the Revolution]
Name: Shadows and Phantoms
Story: Divide & Rule/Heroes of the Revolution
Colors: Ecru #1 (inform); Snow White #9 (stolen child); Twilight #13 (Particolor)
Supplies and Styles: Paint-by-numbers frombookblather (Emily Iveson is made up of so many different lives)
Word Count: 901
Rating: PG
Warnings: References to death, loss, abandonment.
Notes: 1992; Liz Cardew, Charles Terrell. (I've never really known what happened to Julia in the end, but, look, I have finally gone and done it. \o/) This also completes Snow White.
Summary: Liz has lived many different truths and lies in her various lives, but this is the strangest of them all.
***
Liz Cardew has lived so many lives. Once upon a time she was Emily Elizabeth Iveson, much loved only daughter. She lived in a Georgian terraced house in north London and wanted for nothing. Those days are only a faint memory now; too perfect to be true.
It had always been an illusion. She’s learned her history in oddly-shaped bits and pieces that never quite fit, but they tell her the truth: Father was a politician who betrayed his country. Mother was a spy. Both left her behind long, long ago.
Emily Iveson became Elizabeth Cardew years ago; foster daughter of the Cardews. She changed everything she could and tried hard to be anyone but Emily. Emily might be in danger – that was the official reason. It wasn’t Liz’s reason. That was simple. Anything else hurt too much.
Yet that was a lie as well. Her old life teased forever at the edges of the new. It was Father’s money that paid for her keep, her education. When Elizabeth decided to become a doctor, it was Father’s careful arrangements that paid for that, too. Behind the Cardews, the Ivesons never really went away.
As a doctor, she lived in two worlds again. She had her regular duties to carry out; a law-abiding citizen while in secret, she patched up broken rebels. She saw friends die. Once she even had to dispose of the body, thanks to Charles Terrell.
These days, she’s part of the Ministry of Health and advises the government. She uses her skills to try and help the whole country heal – as does Charles as PM, she’ll grudgingly admit, even if she’s not fond of politicians in general. He repays her now and then by uncovering more of her beginning – the Ivesons left a trail behind them in long-buried official documents.
Now Charles sends her a message to meet, but after hours – it’s personal, his private secretary tells her. Has he found something else? Liz isn’t sure she wants to know. Hell, it must be bad this time, if he wants to sit her down somewhere in private first. She wishes she was coward enough not to go.
“I don’t know the whole of it yet, but I had to tell you straight away,” Charles tells her as he puts two glasses down on the table in his office. He takes the decanter and pours her a scotch without asking if she wants one. “Wouldn’t want you hearing about it somewhere without warning.”
Liz raises an eyebrow. She sits well back in the chair, legs crossed, still wearing her official grey suit. “That’s not reassuring.”
“No,” says Charles, and draws back taking one glass, and leaving the other to her. He presses his thin body into the green leather chair. “I don’t think there’s any use me trying to pretend it’s a small thing.”
Liz takes the glass. She tightens her fingers around it. It’s cold. There’s one major mystery left concerning her parents, and if Charles is pussyfooting around the news, it can only be that. The realisation goes through her like a tiny strike of iced lightning. “You’ve found out what happened to Mother.”
“That’s, well, that’s part of it.” Charles scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry. I’m trying to think how to put this – make it easier.”
Liz glares. “God, Charles. Spit it out. I know she’s dead. If you’ve found a report about it, can’t you just let me read it?”
“She’s not,” he says, and Liz blinks, unable to even process that obvious untruth. “I, er, that is, we’re not sure. There’s someone who’s claiming to be her.”
“That’s impossible!”
Charles straightened up and leant forward. “No, no. We knew she wasn’t in any of the camps or prisons, because we’ve got to all of those already. This is something else – hardly anyone was really aware of it, apparently. The details were sent to Mrs Seaton’s office and Sally noticed – you remember Sally –”
“If you don’t get to the point, I’ll throw this scotch in your face.” Liz’s hands are not steady on the glass, and if it were anyone but Charles, she’d already be up and out of here at hearing that lie. It wasn’t true – if it was, then Mother had really left her, and never come back, and why the hell would she want to know that, even if there was any chance it could be true?
Charles takes a sip of his drink and doesn’t say anything until he’s lowered the glass again. “The story checks out. It’s complicated.”
“I don’t want to know!”
“Yes,” he says, drawing the word out. “Thing is, Liz, I’m sorry, but you’re the only one qualified to confirm or refute her claim. Not yet, of course – when you’re ready, I’ll arrange something. You won’t have to actually meet her unless you want to.”
Liz swallows. She puts the glass back on the table. “It’s a lie. I don’t need to see this imposter to tell you that.”
She stalks out then, finally. Charles lets her go.
On the other side of the door, she stops and leans back against the wall. She’s not saying she hasn’t fantasised all these years about something like this, about Mother still being locked away somewhere, but not this. If she believes this, her mother’s not just dead – the person Liz thought she knew never even existed.
***
Story: Divide & Rule/Heroes of the Revolution
Colors: Ecru #1 (inform); Snow White #9 (stolen child); Twilight #13 (Particolor)
Supplies and Styles: Paint-by-numbers from
bookblather (Emily Iveson is made up of so many different lives)Word Count: 901
Rating: PG
Warnings: References to death, loss, abandonment.
Notes: 1992; Liz Cardew, Charles Terrell. (I've never really known what happened to Julia in the end, but, look, I have finally gone and done it. \o/) This also completes Snow White.
Summary: Liz has lived many different truths and lies in her various lives, but this is the strangest of them all.
***
Liz Cardew has lived so many lives. Once upon a time she was Emily Elizabeth Iveson, much loved only daughter. She lived in a Georgian terraced house in north London and wanted for nothing. Those days are only a faint memory now; too perfect to be true.
It had always been an illusion. She’s learned her history in oddly-shaped bits and pieces that never quite fit, but they tell her the truth: Father was a politician who betrayed his country. Mother was a spy. Both left her behind long, long ago.
Emily Iveson became Elizabeth Cardew years ago; foster daughter of the Cardews. She changed everything she could and tried hard to be anyone but Emily. Emily might be in danger – that was the official reason. It wasn’t Liz’s reason. That was simple. Anything else hurt too much.
Yet that was a lie as well. Her old life teased forever at the edges of the new. It was Father’s money that paid for her keep, her education. When Elizabeth decided to become a doctor, it was Father’s careful arrangements that paid for that, too. Behind the Cardews, the Ivesons never really went away.
As a doctor, she lived in two worlds again. She had her regular duties to carry out; a law-abiding citizen while in secret, she patched up broken rebels. She saw friends die. Once she even had to dispose of the body, thanks to Charles Terrell.
These days, she’s part of the Ministry of Health and advises the government. She uses her skills to try and help the whole country heal – as does Charles as PM, she’ll grudgingly admit, even if she’s not fond of politicians in general. He repays her now and then by uncovering more of her beginning – the Ivesons left a trail behind them in long-buried official documents.
Now Charles sends her a message to meet, but after hours – it’s personal, his private secretary tells her. Has he found something else? Liz isn’t sure she wants to know. Hell, it must be bad this time, if he wants to sit her down somewhere in private first. She wishes she was coward enough not to go.
“I don’t know the whole of it yet, but I had to tell you straight away,” Charles tells her as he puts two glasses down on the table in his office. He takes the decanter and pours her a scotch without asking if she wants one. “Wouldn’t want you hearing about it somewhere without warning.”
Liz raises an eyebrow. She sits well back in the chair, legs crossed, still wearing her official grey suit. “That’s not reassuring.”
“No,” says Charles, and draws back taking one glass, and leaving the other to her. He presses his thin body into the green leather chair. “I don’t think there’s any use me trying to pretend it’s a small thing.”
Liz takes the glass. She tightens her fingers around it. It’s cold. There’s one major mystery left concerning her parents, and if Charles is pussyfooting around the news, it can only be that. The realisation goes through her like a tiny strike of iced lightning. “You’ve found out what happened to Mother.”
“That’s, well, that’s part of it.” Charles scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry. I’m trying to think how to put this – make it easier.”
Liz glares. “God, Charles. Spit it out. I know she’s dead. If you’ve found a report about it, can’t you just let me read it?”
“She’s not,” he says, and Liz blinks, unable to even process that obvious untruth. “I, er, that is, we’re not sure. There’s someone who’s claiming to be her.”
“That’s impossible!”
Charles straightened up and leant forward. “No, no. We knew she wasn’t in any of the camps or prisons, because we’ve got to all of those already. This is something else – hardly anyone was really aware of it, apparently. The details were sent to Mrs Seaton’s office and Sally noticed – you remember Sally –”
“If you don’t get to the point, I’ll throw this scotch in your face.” Liz’s hands are not steady on the glass, and if it were anyone but Charles, she’d already be up and out of here at hearing that lie. It wasn’t true – if it was, then Mother had really left her, and never come back, and why the hell would she want to know that, even if there was any chance it could be true?
Charles takes a sip of his drink and doesn’t say anything until he’s lowered the glass again. “The story checks out. It’s complicated.”
“I don’t want to know!”
“Yes,” he says, drawing the word out. “Thing is, Liz, I’m sorry, but you’re the only one qualified to confirm or refute her claim. Not yet, of course – when you’re ready, I’ll arrange something. You won’t have to actually meet her unless you want to.”
Liz swallows. She puts the glass back on the table. “It’s a lie. I don’t need to see this imposter to tell you that.”
She stalks out then, finally. Charles lets her go.
On the other side of the door, she stops and leans back against the wall. She’s not saying she hasn’t fantasised all these years about something like this, about Mother still being locked away somewhere, but not this. If she believes this, her mother’s not just dead – the person Liz thought she knew never even existed.
***
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