To Nightfall

Chapter 17: Seven Bells

Warnings: alcohol, mentions of alcohol and death

Word Count: 5119

In mid-September of 1963, Sir Reginald Hargreeves found himself sending his daughter off to her very first outing with one of his colleague's sons. He seemed to be a reasonable match for (Y/N). It was difficult to come by gentlemen her age with an intelligence like hers. Preston Hildebrand was in no way or degree of being smarter than (Y/N), but he would do.

"Reggie, she'll be fine." Grace reassured him from the lounge room. Reginald peeled himself away from the door, where he had been watching the two teens walking off down the street. "Come have a seat. Relax."

Reginald sighed and sat himself in his usual armchair, gently taking his book from Grace that she held out for him. She sat herself down on the sofa and began looking through documents. "You don't have to be afraid, Reggie. You know how your daughter is."

"Yes, I do. Stubborn, relentless, emotional, sarcastic." He turned a page. "She is also diligent... compassionate... sharp."

"An absolute angel." Grace grinned. Reginald hummed thoughtfully.

"May I repeat myself so confidently when I say that I truly believe (Y/N) is my greatest accomplishment?"

Grace chuckled. "You may." Her laugh earned a small smile from him. "It's crazy to think that she wouldn't be in our lives today had I not been walkin' down that sidewalk... She probably wouldn't be breathin' if we hadn't met."

Reginald lifted his head to watch her smile soften with affection.

"Makes ya think about how impressively the world works. How some of the best people show up in our lives when we least expect it... Like they're meant to be here with us."

"Yes," He mused with a smile of his own. "Like they are meant to be here..."

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A dull ache settled into Five's temples as he opened his eyes. The orange light from outside casted into the bedroom, which gave it a soft glow. It was nice, he thought. The Kugelblitz could hardly be seen in a positive light, but it did give off a nice view. With a groan, he sat up in bed, the duvet sliding off his bare chest and landing in his lap. Five massaged his temples in silence, save for (Y/N)'s soft breaths beside him.

"What did I get up to last night?" He whispered, staring around at the empty bottles and mannequin legs littered about the room. Blurry images flashed through his mind. Images of him drunkenly giving some speech at the wedding, chasing (Y/N) through the halls with plastic mannequin parts in his arms, taking many breaks to copulate in nearly every hall of the hotel. But the last thing he very vaguely remembered was what happened in the White Buffalo Suite.

"There is no time."

Reginald was talking to someone the slightly ajar door obscured.

    "I can't do this without you."

He made a deal.

Five furrowed his brows, his fuzzy brain trying to recollect any clues as to who the mystery second party was, but all he could remember was (Y/N) pulling him away. He tried not to dwell on it too much, for the frustration was only adding to his throbbing headache. "What was the old man up to?"

Beside him, he heard the sheets rustle and he turned to see (Y/N), creaking her eyes open just the slightest in order to see him. She only needed to glance at their bare bodies to remember exactly what they were up to the night before, the two sharing a smile in recognition. With a tired sigh, she stretched her arms.