"it doesn't matter how pretty it looks, a cage is still a cage."

How had it gotten to here? For months she’d quietly worried about him, not sure what to do to help or even reassure him. For all they had between them, for what they were and meant to one another, she felt like she should have known what to do, what to say; maybe not to fix him but to at least steer him away from this path. She could have tried Gallifrey, not that they would have given her much help anyway. She’d never care much for other Time Lords, or so she’d found over the last few years. She should have tried. She should have done more.

Instead it felt like she’d stood back, watching the most important person to her fall away from her. It was like they were puzzle pieces that didn’t fit so well together anymore, something has frayed the edges or dipped them in water. Some days she didn’t think she knew who he was any more. It was little things; she thought he was being protective. Sure, their adventures didn’t always go to plan, the odd mishap – but she never got hurt, not badly anyway. And she never minded afterwards. It was just one of those things, she’d tell him, she was travelling all of time and space with him – she didn’t expect it to be all completely safe. She was happy enough for the small risks, it was adventure, and it was seeing things she could never dream or imagine to see. She wouldn’t change it, not for one second.

The adventures got fewer and fewer; she spent more time at the Collection with him than anything else. There was always plenty to see in it but she grew restless. Sometimes she’d even plead to go home just to see her family and maybe because it was in her eyes, how much she missed then, but he’d finally give in, although begrudgingly.

And now they were here.

It wasn’t four walls, per say, but it felt like it. And they might’ve been just as well barred. It had all happened so fast. An argument. She’d disagreed with him, threatened to leave. The frightening thing was that he never raised his voice, not once. Leave? Of course she couldn’t leave. She had to stay here, with him, where it was safe – but safe from what?

Cassie had made the mistake of mentioning Pandora, how that was the only real danger by staying here. She regretted it; it was a low blow, even for her. She knew what it meant to have Pandora lurking there, in the back of his mind, what he didn’t to keep her locked away, kept at bay. The thought of Pandora scared her, but she’d stayed. He’d assured her that Pandora would never surface and that he’d never allow it to hurt her.

She’d been so frustrated with him, stuck at the Collection while he withdrew from her, slowly becoming a stranger to her again. Irving Braxiatel just wasn’t the man she’d known, not any more. She missed him terribly.

Brax had left her to stew for a few days, let her calm down. Cassie couldn’t calm down; her confinement only rattled her further. She wanted to go home; she wanted him to not be like this. She turned all over in her mind, the last few months, the argument. She flitted between blaming him and blaming herself. Maybe she’d crossed the line with Pandora, had she upset him? The longer she was left, the more she felt bad, the more she was sorry, the more she just wanted things to go back to how they were.

When he does finally make an appearance, she runs to hug him, burying her face and her apologies into his shoulder. To his credit, he makes an attempt hush her, returning the gesture.

“I didn’t mean to say it, I swear.” She tells him. “I thought, I—well, I didn’t think. I shouldn’t have said it.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he replies, and he knows she’s telling the truth. Heat of the moment, likely. He hadn’t been angry with her - that was it. Disappointed that she didn’t have a little more self-control, but he wasn’t hurt by what she’d said. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

“I’m just worried about you, alright?” she tells him, “This isn’t right. I—why don’t we go somewhere? Forget about all of this? It’ll do you good, do us both good. I miss going out on adventures with you.”

He doesn’t answer her at first. Cassie breaks the hug, frowning at him. “Irving? Come on, it’ll be fun.”

He smiles slightly, a small polite smile. “I don’t think that would be for the best.”

 “Or even Earth? Can’t I go home for a bit?” Cassie tries. “You could come with me, do something a bit, well, normal.”

The smile slips, he pulls in a breath.

“Please. Just something. Anything.” She says again, her voice quick this time. “I... I want to go home for a bit, it would—I’d like to see my family, my friends. It’s been ages. I mean, you said you liked my mum’s cooking, right? You could come for dinner? Anything.”

“No, Cassie.”

“But, I—“

Brax’s voice grew louder then. “No, Cassie.”

Cassie’s expression falls. Her eyes fall to the floor for a few moments, her head shaking. Lips pursed, she silently catches his hand with hers. “Please.” She utters quietly, feeling something in her chest break. Not pleading, but begging. Was this what she had to do now? “Please, Irving. Just let me go home. You can’t do this.”

She wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t let herself cry. “You’re my friend. Friends don’t do this. I thought I meant more to you than this.”

More to him than to be locked up, more to him to be stuck here.

Maybe for one brief moment, there’s a look of sympathy on his face. But it soon slips to calm rationalisation and if there was any care and tenderness in his voice, it’s lost with his words. “It’s because you mean so much to me that I have to keep you here.” He tells her, “Here you’re safe. The universe is far too chaotic to let you go out into it, at least here there’s... order. I promised you I would keep you safe, didn’t I?”

“Not like this,” Cassie replies, “Not stuck in a... in a cage.”

He’s amused, “Well, it’s hardly a cage, Cassie.” He assures her, “You’ve got everything you need—“

“It’s still a cage.”

There’s a short silence between them. Brax removes himself from her grasp and takes a step back. “I see.” Well, no matter. She probably needs a little more time. She could get used to it in due course. “One day, you won’t see it that way. You’ll realise why I’ve done all this for you.”

Cassie makes a face, “What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?” she asks, her voice growing urgent, “Irving, you can’t—“

“You’ll understand.” He assures her. The door slams shut and clicks behind him.

There’s a fleeting moment of panic, she rushes to the door, slams her fist against it. “Let me—let me out!” she reaches for the handle, rattles it. Her voice rises, “Open the door!” her other hand bangs against the door. “Open—open the bloody door, Irving! Irving! You can’t do this! Open the door! Right now!”

The visits are few and far between, she knows he’s just isolating himself. She still asks to be let out, every time he refuses. Sometimes she refuses to speak to him, refuses to look at him, letting her anger bubble inside her stomach. Betrayal is probably the better word for it. She feels betrayed by him and god, she hopes he knows it. She hopes he feels it, can read it off her. She hopes he knows that the one person in the universe he’s supposed to be with, linked with, hates him for what he does, what he’s doing to her. Sometimes she tells him she wishes she’d never met him, wishes their paths had never crossed, damn him to a life of black and white, one regeneration after another.

But god, it hurts. It hurts to feel like this. Hate never came easy to her and it feels wrong inside to feel it. Cassie doesn’t want to hate him, she shouldn’t hate him; what she really feels is the opposite. Brax is her friend, the one who literally brought colour to her life, he’ll always be important to her.

But sometimes it’s easier to hate, it’s so much easier than feeling hurt.

Maybe if he knows how much she hates him, he might give up. He might finally get rid of her, let her go. Maybe if she says the right thing, he might snap and dump her on Earth and never have anything to do with her again.

Maybe then she could do something to fix him before he slips any deeper.

Cassie takes the chance the next time he visits, months down the line, catches him off guard and shunts him out of way, tearing down the corridors and out into the Collection. She ducks and dives, desperately trying to remember the passages and halls. She doesn’t manage well. She gets lost enough times for Brax to finally catch up, those damn ‘guards’ of his at his side. He’s angry at her, she can tell as much, he only looks mildly annoyed – but part of her thinks it might be much more than that.

She grabs the first thing to hand from a pedestal; something made out what she presumes to be glass, some odd glow flickering shades of blue. It certainly looks pretty. And very, very breakable. Lifting it up, there’s a moment of quiet. She misses the fleeting glance of panic in his face but he does eye her a little more warily,  looking from the object to her.

“I’ll break it.” She warns, “I’ll promise you that.”

She can’t even remember what it’s called, she barely cares. Maybe this might be enough, he cares so much for his precious collection, it might be what’s needed. Surely he’ll dump her back on Earth after this. He stiffens, she can tell he’s displeased. This is good. This has to work. “Now there’s no need for that.”

“Oh, yeah?” She raises it a little higher, heavy in her hands. She knows she’s playing a dangerous game, part of her hopes the threats are enough. “Watch me. I’ll burn this place down, what’ll you do then?”

He doesn’t answer her; she feels that anger bubble away in her stomach. She pulls in a breath, lips pursing for a moment. “I’m done. I want to go home, you can’t keep me here. I’m only human, Irving. I’ll die one day, you can’t control that.”

There’s something flat in his tone, almost threatening. As if he actually could. “I could find ways.”

“Last chance.” She warns him again. “Let me go home.”

Brax folds his arms over his chest, exhales sharply. Unimpressed and unwilling. “No.”

Cassie stares at him for a moment, her eyes harden. He says nothing more than that. Wordlessly, she hurls the object towards him, its heavy weight sending it crashing to the floor, shattering in the space between them.

There’s a very slight look of horror from him. Cassie moves, grabbing the next item and hurling it against the wall with enough force it breaks both the item itself and damages the painting she was aiming for. Something else careens through a glass display case, spilling showers of glass across the floor. She reaches for a small stone box adorned with cogs when a metal hand yanks her away just before she can curl her fingers around it. It wobbles on its pedestal before falling still, undamaged.

Her anger still boils over, she flails and struggles against the firm grip of the guard, twisting and pulling her arm. Her rage seeps over the pain, but despite her efforts, she can’t break free. She shouts, unable to give up struggling, still wanting to break more things. Months he’s kept her locked up, months she’s been shut away, caged like all these bloody artefacts and works of art.

“Enough!”

There’s anger in his voice she’s only heard once before, enough to send her running. Cassie knows better than to make him angry, but she thought it would be her one chance to get away. Of course, he’s never been angry at her before. Still, the thunder in his voice stops her dead, breathless and inwardly panicking. It’s a terrible fact; Brax’s anger is a force not to be reckoned with.

“You can’t do this.” She half-shouts at him, “You can’t keep me here!”

Silence.

The anger fizzles out, she goes limp in the guard’s hold, exhausted and overwhelmed. She lets out a strangled sound, something like a frustrated sob. The second guard takes her other arm, stops her from dropping to the floor. “I wanna go home...”

He watches her for a few moments, rage turning inside his stomach. What he’s doing is right and for pity’s sake, she’s not helping. Not with this. She’s trying him, of course. Trying to get what she wants, but of course, he can’t be pushed that easily. He knows on Earth she can’t be controlled, stopped from hurting herself, someone hurting her. He couldn’t allow it, he wouldn’t.

She’s destroyed enough pieces; his anger towards her can’t be denied. But he won’t back down. He’ll keep her safe, as much as it hurts to see her like this. She just doesn’t understand yet. It’s exhausting.

“Take her back to her room.” He says finally, swallowing his rage, “Get someone to clean this mess up.”

Cassie feels herself being moved, kicks her heels down, her voice rising once more. She shouts for him, at him, curses, pleading – anything to get him to reconsider. Her feet flail and scuff the floors as she’s dragged off – her voice echoing down the halls.

He watched them carry her into a car, the blue light catching in her dark-blonde hair. She’d been crying, he remembered that, watched how her shoulders twitched and shook in the arms of the policeman. That was the last time he saw her.

A voice called to him, breaking his concentration, Sherlock Holmes scowled.

“What is it, Mrs. Hudson?”

His landlady looked at him curiously for a few minutes before handing him a small brown envelope, his name etched on it with a careful hand. “This came through the door, it’s for you, dear.”

Sherlock quickly snatched the envelope from her, standing to give it a once over. There was nothing particular about it; an ordinary envelope found in most stationary stores. The handwriting was deliberately neat, as if someone had tried to keep their hand steady and careful – but there was an unmistakeable tremble to the writer’s hand. Early stage Parkinson’s? No, too boring. Perhaps the tremble of a drug addict? A little more interesting, but still too dull. Prescription medication. There. It sounded a little more intriguing – although he wasn’t too enthused about it.

Whatever the envelope contained something light. He opened it carefully, tilted it and a small sprig of tiny blue flowers with yellow centres slipped onto his hand. Squinting, he held them to the light.

“Forget-Me-Nots.” Mrs Hudson said with a small gasp. “Lovely little flowers.”

Sherlock frowned, staring intently at them for a few moments. Was it a message? “Someone doesn’t want me to forget.” He said absently.

But who?

Title: For a little while. 
Characters: Cassie Riddle, Spencer Reid
Notes: Cassie and Spencer take a trip to London for an annual Blues Fesitval.
Words: 548
Prompt: N/A 

Title: 'the worst things in life come free to us'
Characters: Cassie Riddle, Spencer Reid.
Notes: There are moments when she's happy, Spencer knows.
Word Count: 359.
Prompt: 'Sleep'.