devoutish: (027)
[personal profile] devoutish
[Alfie had always thought that, if and when he was able to leave Norfinbury, he'd just want to move on and forget as best he could. He wouldn't be interested in visiting other worlds. He wouldn't be interested in letting other people visit him. He'd want to close off as much as possible, to excise that part of his life that hadn't really been real, at least not as far as his own world was concerned. But as time went on, he'd had to admit that there were a few exceptions - people he would want to keep up with even after escaping. Royce Melborn had absolutely been one of them.

And so, when they leave, they keep up with each other. It's a little strange to have someone from another world visit - especially someone who, for obvious reasons, can't tell anyone that he's from another world. That strangeness rankles at Alfie a bit, but not nearly enough to make him not want to see Royce anymore - all it does is make him wish that Royce was from London.

Months go by, and then years. The visits never drop off in frequency, and they start to feel more like an everyday part of life - get up, go to work, pay a visit to a beloved friend in another universe, ho-hum. Memories of Norfinbury still make Alfie's life a little harder, and it still pains him that it's a part of his past that he can't share with his family. But still, he settles. He continues his organized crime work, he gets married (Royce is invited to the wedding, of course), and he and his wife have a little girl. Life goes on.

Until it doesn't. A little over three years after he gets back, war hits again, and with it come the bombings of London. When one of the first raids hits, he and his entire family are at his parents' place for Sabbath dinner, and the building takes a direct hit. Only six out of twenty-seven people are pulled out of the flat alive that day. Five more die of their injuries over the next few days.

And just like that, Alfie is alone in London.

He has friends on his own world, but he turns to Royce. He can't bear Camden Town anymore - it's too full of memories, and right now, every memory breaks him just a little bit more. So he shows up on Royce's world, uses his last bit of strength to matter-of-factly explain what had happened, and asks if he can stay for a bit. And then he promptly goes to bed and doesn't get up for three weeks.

Alfie Solomons is not a man who gives up easily. But this is too much, even for him.]
devoutish: (insomnia is my greatest inspiration)
[personal profile] devoutish
[Alfie hates the ice tunnels. Oh sure, they're a relief in some ways - the lack of snow makes for easier, faster travel, and not having to deal with the chill from the wind is nice. But they're also too quiet and too dark, and just all-around eerie. He's not really what one would call an outdoorsy guy, but he likes to be able to see the sky when he wants to.

Because of this, and because his back is acting up a little more than usual today, he's in a grumpy mood. They've just gotten into their house for the evening - one of the shittier houses in the tunnels, no less - and he's about ready to drop. He tosses his things on the floor, heads over to collapse on the couch, and says to Royce:]


Anything worthwhile on the network?

[He honestly cannot be bothered to check for himself right now.]
devoutish: (Beeswax‚ Not Yours‚ Inc.)
[personal profile] devoutish
[When the car radiator overheats for the third time in a week, Alfie takes it as a sign that it's finally time for more than just another quick tune-up.

They're in a deserted area, which is both good and bad. On the one hand, most of the dangerous gangs are still in urban areas, the way they had been before the world had gone to shit. Out here in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by miles and miles of fields with only the occasional small copse of trees, they're not likely to run into anyone at all, much less anyone dangerous. But on the other hand, if they do come across anyone, there won't be anywhere to run to or hide. Alfie, as always, has his pistol tucked into his coat pocket, and they have more weapons stashed away in the trunk. But they're a small group - no match for the bigger gangs with armored trucks and heavy artillery. If they meet one of those, they'll be slaughtered.

With his sleeves rolled up and the hood of the car open, he leans in with his tools, carefully tinkering away. He can't afford to make a mistake here - replacement parts are rare and precious. When he hears footsteps behind him, he doesn't dare look away from his work as he says sharply:]


Stay back. You don't want hot steam to the face.

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