Swiftnick woke in pitch darkness to the feel of something crawling up his leg. With a yelp of panic he kicked out violently and heard the thump and squeak of a rat hitting the cold stone wall. Biting down a moan of pain, he struggled back into a sitting position and gingerly rested his sorely abused back against the stones. He had lost track of time since Havering had finished beating him. He dimly remembered Havering unchaining him as he sagged in his manacles. Havering had crooned over him, asking forgiveness even as he told Swiftnick the pain was for his own good. He had eased him to the stone flags of the floor, tied his wrists together and manacled him by one ankle, then the darkness had swooped in and Swiftnick knew nothing more until he woke to this stifling darkness.

Havering had blown out the cresset and taken the lamp with him, leaving his captive to the total darkness of the cold damp cellar with only the hungry rats for company. Swiftnick had been awake most of the time since then, half dozing when the cold and pain and exhaustion got too much for him. Usually it was the scuffling of the rats that woke him. They were getting bolder. Or hungrier…

Swiftnick shuddered and hugged his knees with his bound wrists. He had done his best to get free, but Havering had been clever, tying a complicated knot at the back of his wrist where he couldn't reach it easily and then sealing it with candle wax.

Burrowing his face into his knees, Swiftnick did his best not to cry because Turpin wouldn't have; no matter how scared or hurt or hungry he was.

He wished Dick was here now…

* * *

"Hist…" Glenrae hissed as he slipped up beside Turpin through the lengthening shadows from securing the horses in a thicket. It was late afternoon shading rapidly into the darkness of evening.

Turpin had eyes only for Havering Hall as he fingered his pistol. It had been a long ride to get here and he had for once pushed Black Bess hard. He could almost taste the need for action in his mouth. "What is it?" he asked impatiently.

"Something you want to see."

"Later…." He wanted no more delays. "The servants will be back soon…"

"Freshly turned earth. I fell over it…"

Dick turned his head and stared at the sombre expression on Glenrae's face. He so didn't want to hear those words. "Where?"

"This way…" Glenrae backed up, moving with silent speed through the leafy undergrowth and leading Dick to a clearing amongst the trees in sight of the house where lamps were flickering to life in one downstairs window. "Here…"

Turpin swallowed, staring at the patch of moist earth. "Too wide for one…"

"You want me to do it?" Glenrae asked.

"No." Taking a deep breath, Dick crouched, brushing at the dirt, brushing and pushing it away in moist heaps until he exposed cloth. Glenrae placed a hand on his shoulder, offering silent support.

"Livery…" the Scotsman guessed.

Dick nodded, tucking his pistol in his belt so he could use both hands. He scooped earth aside, uncovering the body in feverish haste. Glenrae knelt to help, selecting a spot opposite him. Turpin reared back suddenly, staring at the shattered bloodied face a handful of earth had revealed. "Shot in the head from behind…" he breathed as he stared at the mangled features and felt his gorge rise.

Glenrae muttered something under his breath. "Dick…look…" His own digging was revealing a second body dumped in alongside the first. Sitting back on his heels, he wiped his hands on the grass and exchanged a look with Turpin.

"That wagon driver said Havering and his footmen were the only ones here." Turpin said slowly. "Still say Havering's not a murderer?"

Glenrae grimaced. "They must have seen or heard something…"

Dick shook his head abruptly and pushed to his feet. "There's nothing we can do for them. I need to find Swiftnick before he ends up out here too. Come on."

Glenrae looked at the bodies for a second longer then hurried after the grim faced highwayman. "You’re not going to shoot him, are ye?" he worried.

"Not unless he forces me into it," Turpin answered flatly.

"Ye're nay a murderer," the Scotsman protested.

"I'm no fool either," Dick shot a bleak look at him. "I'm only here for the boy and Ill do whatever it takes to get him back…"

** *

The rattle of a key in the lock jerked Swiftnick out of his misery and he lifted his head, pushing awkwardly against the wall to get back to his feet. He refused to let anyone find him cowering in a corner. He wasn't broken yet.

"Ah, there you are. Hello, my angel," Havering greeted him as he stepped through the door, holding a lamp up high so he could see him. He was wearing the black breeches and white shirt, but it was spotted with mud and a blood speckled the cloth. "What are you doing hiding away down here in the dark? Who's frightened you?"

Shading his eyes with his bound hands, Swiftnick squinted in pain at the light after so long in darkness. He didn't know how to answer Sir Rodney so he said nothing at all. Havering didn't seem to mind as he came closer, stretching out one hand to touch Swiftnick's jaw. He smelt of paint and rum, of mud and blood...

"It's all right, Gabriel. I've punished the footmen now. They won't bother you any more…" Havering told him kindly.

"Punished t'them?" Swiftnick stammered, eyeing the blood fearfully.

"You are temptation incarnate, my Gabriel. I should have known they were too weak to resist your wiles. That they were lure you into evil. But I forgive you. It'll all be over soon and you'll be as pure as ever. Come along now…" Havering tugged at his arm gently and Swiftnick shrank away from him, preferring the rats to Havering's madness. "I said come along…" Havering snapped and pulled violently. The manacle around Swiftnick's ankle yanked him back and he dropped to his knees on the stones. Havering simply looked at him blankly, then blinked and crouched, putting the lamp down and producing a key from his pocket to unfasten the metal band.

Swiftnick stared at him, shuddering at the feel of his too warm hand around his ankle as he held him. Then his self-preservation instinct suddenly woke up and he grabbed his chance, lashing out and landing a sold kick in Havering's ribs. As the man grunted and fell over, losing his balance, Swiftnick scrabbled to his feet and ran for it. He belted out of the cellar and along the passages, running for the scullery and the way out. He could hear Havering pounding heavy footed after him as he scrambled up the steps and burst out through the door into the scullery then flung himself against the door, hoping to jam it shut on his pursuer.

Havering was faster and stronger than Swiftnick expected. He slammed into the door and shoved it violently open, knocking the youth off his feet. On hands and heels, Swiftnick scrambled backwards, then lunged to his feet and scampered to the door. Havering stalked after him, his face dark with rage.

"Gabriel! Come back here!" he roared after him.

Swiftnick fled, searching frantically for a way out. He burst into the main hall, seeing at a glance that the main door was bolted and would take too long for him to open. Maybe there would be a window somewhere…

"Stand still, boy!" Havering bellowed as he stomped into the hall. "Take your punishment and be cleansed."

"You’re mad!" Swiftnick yelled and ran from him, aiming for stairs in the hope of getting around Havering by the back way and escaping through the kitchens.

Havering cut him off, exploding into a run and slamming into the youth. The impact knocked Swiftnick off his feet and sent them both slithering across the floor. Havering landed on top, crushing the breath out of Swiftnick who landed on his abused back. Pinning him down, Havering belted him across the face hard enough to make him see stars.

"No more of your defiance!" he roared at him, dragging Swiftnick back to his feet with a grip on his upper arm. He hauled him across the hall and down the corridor to the studio, where he flung him inside and slammed the door behind them, then turned the key in the lock.

Released Swiftnick retreated into the centre of the room and looked around wildly, licking blood from his upper lip as he searched wildly for escape. His eyes settled on the brazier in the middle of the room, staring at the knife lying roasting its blade in the red hot coals.

"Hush now, Gabriel," Havering's voice had changed into unnatural calm again. "You look like a cornered animal. You know there's no need to be afraid of me." He started to walk towards him and Swiftnick backed nervously away. A scowl emerged to hover around Havering's face. "Stop that…"

"You let me go," Swiftnick demanded defiantly. "I'm not going to let you touch me!"

"It's for your own good," Havering soothed, crooning as he reached for him.

Swiftnick dodged out of reach, backing around the table. "I don't know what you think I am," he protested.

"You’re an angel…"

"I am not!"

"My angel. My gift from the sky. I must keep you pure and innocent for you are my salvation…" Havering leaned across the table towards him, extending one hand pleadingly towards him.

Swiftnick grabbed the edge of the table with a sudden burst of strength and tipped it over on top of him. Cursing, Havering went down underneath it and Swiftnick darted to the door, fumbling with the key in his bound hands.

"Ah, Gabriel," Soft footed and fast Havering was right behind him, his hand caressing the nape of his neck. "You are mine. Don't you know you can't escape me? I am your destiny…"

With a sob of panic, Swiftnick twisted away from him, smacking his balled hands into the pit of his stomach. Havering grunted and doubled up, but his hand flashed out and he grabbed Swiftnick by the torn remains of his tunic. Cloth ripped and Swiftnick squirmed out of the rest of it, darting away towards the windows.

Havering stared at the cloth, then dropped it and bounded after the youth, grabbing him from behind around the waist and flinging him away from the windows. Swiftnick yelled, clinging to the drapes that came down with him entangling him when he landed in the seraglio cushions. Clawing his way free, he started to struggle up then froze in dismay as he realised Havering was standing over him with the red hot knife in his hand. There was a look on hunger on his face that turned Swiftnick's blood to icewater.

"I'm not going to let you tempt me any more," Havering said distantly, his voice like ice even though his eyes burned with lust. "Do you understand that? I shall cast out the demon of darkness that haunts you, Gabriel. I shall cleanse and purify you. I shall slice it from your soul…."

Swiftnick made a panic stricken lunge to get past him, hoping to take his tormentor by surprise. Havering grabbed him by the hair and yanked him back, pulling him down into the cushions with him. Swiftnick could feel the heat of the blade hovering near his exposed throat as his head was drawn back. Havering's free hand slid down his side, his fingertips exploring gently across his stomach and up along his ribs.

"So sweet…." Havering whispered as his lips brushed Swiftnick's bare shoulder. His arm locked tight around Swiftnick's waist and he rolled, pulling the youth under him and pushing his face into the cushions. Swiftnick could hardly breath and his senses spun as Havering's hands wandered over him. "I must drive the demon from you…" he groaned.

Swiftnick bucked, desperate for air despite the threat of the heated blade. He felt its kiss suddenly against his shoulder and yelled in genuine pain, hoping it was what Havering wanted him to do. He didn't want the noble to kill him and if he could somehow distract him…

"Hush, Gabriel," Havering whispered, sinking his teeth into the burned spot and sucking on the wound, licking it slowly. "Soon you'll be pure, cleansed…"

The explosive thump of a pistol shot hitting was one Swiftnick knew well, but it still startled him and he jumped. Havering twisted off him, keeping his grip on his hair. He looked round wildly as the studio door was kicked open; the lock blasted off by a well placed musket ball. "What the-?" he exclaimed, staring over his shoulder at the intruder. How dare you, sir! Get out or I’ll set the dogs on you!"

"Get your stinking carcass off the boy before I kill you," said Dick Turpin in reply.

* * *

Getting into the house proved somewhat easier than either Turpin or Glenrae expected. They forced a window at the back and slid I through it into what appeared to be a study. As Turpin headed for the door and tested the handle, Glenrae's attention was drawn to a stack of parchments on the desk and a covered easel. He flipped back the canvas and stared at the revealed portrait.

"Will ye look at that," he breathed. "The man's a genius…"

"What?" Dick strode back to his side. "We don't have time…Egads…" He stared at the painting, his jaw on the ground. Wings, black and iridescent spread out across red satin sheets; folding around the golden image of the youth as he lay languorously sprawled in innocent sleep in the bed… "That's, that's….Swiftnick?!"

"Ye don't sound so sure…"

"He never looked, looked…" Dick flapped his hands helplessly.

"Ye said he was a pretty one…"

"Yes, but…" Turpin shook his head frantically. "He doesn't look like….that."

Glenrae snorted and drew a knife, starting to cut briskly around the edge of the canvas.

"Glenrae!" Dick protested.

"Och, yon painting's worth a fortune," the Scotsman explained.

"It'll get him hung!"

"Nay, laddie, this is art," Glenrae said cheerfully, peeling the canvas free and starting to roll it up as he headed for the parchments on the desk. "More of them," he whispered when Dick shot a frown at him.

"Then rip them up or burn them," Turpin snapped impatiently. "Hurry up!"

Glenrae shook his head and snatched at the parchments, rolling them up to stuff into his jacket with the canvas.

"What are you doing?" Dick snarled as he returned to listen at the door for sounds of movement.

"Making sure they'll be destroyed," Glenrae answered. "What's holding ye up with that door?"

"Nothing," Turpin retorted curtly and yanked it open, stepping out into the corridor with drawn pistol and checking warily both ways. "Where do you think they'll be?"

"The bedrooms?" Glenrae guessed.

Dick gave him a shocked look. "You have a filthy mind!"

Glenrae shrugged. "You saw the pictures," he pointed out. "I'll take upstairs, you check down here?"

Turpin inclined his head. "There might be a cellar," he guessed as they moved out, heading down the corridor. The sudden pain filled yell froze them both, making the hair on the back of their necks stand up on end.

"Swiftnick," Dick hissed and swung around, racing back the way he had come, searching for another room until he came to the locked studio door.

"Don't shoot…." Glenrae began, hoping to keep things quiet and use the advantage of surprise. Turpin ignored him, blasted the lock and then kicked the door open, stalking through it as he drew his second pistol and levelled it on Havering.

Sir Rodney twisted around, gaping at him stupidly over one shoulder as he held onto his struggling captive. "What the-? How dare you, sir! Get out or I’ll set the dogs on you!"

"Get your stinking carcass off the boy before I kill you," Turpin snarled back, very deliberately levelling his pistol at him as he walked towards the noble.

"What do you want?" Havering demanded, too angry to even consider being scared and keeping one hand very firmly pressed over his captive's mouth.

"I've come for Swiftnick," Dick answered coldly. From the corner of his eye he could see Glenrae circling him, coming up on the other side of Havering.

"You are mistaken, sir," Havering retorted. "This is my ward, Gabriel, and I can assure you that this is none of your concern."

Turpin hesitated. All he could see of Havering's captive around the man's body was a tousle of blond hair as the youth struggled. But either way…. "Whatever. Let him up…"

"This is between us. A game…"

"He doesn't seem to be enjoying it," Turpin noted as the youth flailed and struggled frantically. "And since when do you need a knife if someone's willing?"

Havering scowled, tightening his grip hard enough to draw a whimper out of his captive. A second later it was his turn to yelp as he was bitten hard on the hand. He loosened his grip and Swiftnick wrenched his head free.

"Dick!" he yelled in panic.

Turpin shot forward, a snarl crossing his normally pleasant face even as his stomach leaped in hope. "Swiftnick! Get your stinking hands off him, Havering! I won't warn you again. I’ll blow your bleeding head off.!"

"Do as the man says and drop the knife," Glenrae had come close and added his own advice, tucking his pistol gently under Havering's ear. "And if he doesn't blow your head off, I will."

Havering froze, his fingers flexing around the knife hilt. Swiftnick shot a wary look at him and then grabbed for the weapon, twisting it out of his hand and then wriggling to get free. Glenrae caught Havering's shoulder, pulling him back roughly so Swiftnick could scoot out from underneath and scramble on hands and knees over to Turpin.

"You got him?" Dick demanded, his voice taut with barely suppressed fury.

"Aye," Glenrae assured him.

Dick lowered his pistol and tucked it into his belt, then crouched and put one arm around Swiftnick in a hard hug, holding him to him fiercely as the youth burrowed his face into his shoulder. "All right, lad, you’re all right," he said softly. "He won't touch you again." He could feel Swiftnick trembling violently, his breathing sounding shaky with fright.

"I'll see you hang for this, you, you kidnappers!" Havering roared as he knelt under Glenrae's pistol, his hands raised.

Turpin ignored him; gently pushing Swiftnick back to he could grab the knife and cut his wrists free. His expression looked set in stone as he noted the rope burns around his bloody wrists and the cuts and bruises on his body. Cupping one hand under Swiftnick's chin, he studied his too wide eyes and battered face with a bitter scowl.

"I'm s-sorry," Swiftnick stammered, confused by his cold fury. "I d-didn't do anything! Don't be angry with m-me."

Dick blinked and ruffled his hair, focusing on him affectionately. "I know, son," he said softly. "And it's not you I'm angry with. Can you walk?"

Swiftnick nodded shakily and Dick tucked an arm around him, pulling his right arm across his shoulders and gently gripping his wrist so he could help him up.

"This is intolerable!" Havering snarled indignantly. "I rescued that boy! I fed and clothed him…"

"And beat him to a bloody pulp when the mood took you?" Dick snarled. "What kind of a madman are you?!"

"When he deserved it! The boy has to be cleansed of evil!"

"Maybe I should kill you then," Turpin spat at him. "Let's get out of here."

Glenrae nodded and eased away from Havering, backing towards the door.

"No, wait," Havering took a step forward. "Gabriel! You can't leave me! I haven't finished!"

Swiftnick shuddered and looked up at Turpin helplessly. "He's not staying," Dick said flatly.

"You don't understand," Havering wailed. "He's my salvation! With him I can be purified. He's the end to the darkness. By purifying him, I can purify my own soul! Give him to me!"

"He's lost his dice," Glenrae muttered.

Havering looked from one to the other of them, distraught and desperate. "What do you want?" he cried out. "How much? I’ll pay you anything you want if you leave him here!"

Dick tightened his grip on Swiftnick, hugging him tight to his side as he felt the shudder of fright go through him. "Maybe you sold your soul, but I won't," he said grimly.

Havering followed them towards the door. "Gabriel, you understand, don't you? You know I had to do it. You won't leave me. You can't…You were given to me."

Swiftnick shrank away from his reaching, imploring hands, unable to take his eyes off him. "Please, leave me alone," he begged.

"If I can't have you…" Havering snarled and lunged, not at Dick and Swiftnick, but at the unprepared Glenrae. He shoved the Scotsman hard into the wall, snatching the pistol from his hand and whirling to face Swiftnick again.

Turpin shoved Swiftnick protectively behind him. Glenrae had slid to the floor, dizzily shaking his head after the collision with the wall.

"Step aside," Havering ordered grimly. "The boy is evil and cannot be saved in this world. I have no choice."

Dick pursed his lips, eyeing the pistol in calculation. "Is that what you told your footmen?" he asked.

"What?" Havering blinked, distracted.

"We found their bodies out in the woods. Did you make them dig the hole themselves?"

Havering blinked again. "They were evil," he said slowly. "They let themselves be tempted by the boy…I cleansed them, purified them…"

Turpin raised an eyebrow. "You murdered them in cold blood," he said quietly.

"It was necessary…."

"I wonder if Spiker will see it that way."

Havering licked dry lips and lifted the pistol. "I want the boy. I want to save him."

Turpin shook his head. "You can't have him. Swiftnick, go. Get to the horses." He felt Swiftnick hesitate behind him. "Do as you’re told, boy," Dick said sharply and Swiftnick obeyed, limping back towards the door and catching at the jamb for support.

"Gabriel! No! Don't go!" Havering wailed and lunged, dodging around the highwayman to aim at the terrified Swiftnick.

"Down!" Dick yelled in the same moment that Glenrae grabbed Swiftnick around the ankles and tipped him off his feet. Glenrae grunted as the youth landed solidly on top of him, then rolled, pinning him protectively between the safety of his own body and the wall as the pistol went off.

Havering's wail turned into a scream of pain as his finger spasmed on the pistol trigger, the shot blasting splinters of wood from the doorjamb that showered down around Glenrae and Swiftnick. The pistol fell from his nerveless fingers as he doubled up over his hand, staring at his own long bladed knife that had been driven through the back of it by the highwayman's skilled throw.

Standing over him, Turpin grimaced. "You asked for that," he said grimly and turned his head slightly towards his companions. "Are you two hurt?"

"We're fine," Glenrae assured him, rolling off Swiftnick as the youth jabbed an indignant elbow into his ribs to make him move. "Do ye sharpen those then, laddie?"

"No," Swiftnick gave him a glare, scrambling out of reach.

Picking himself up, Glenrae offered him a hand getting up and paused, catching the look in Swiftnick's too bright blue eyes. Swiftnick didn't want anyone except Dick touching him right then and it showed. Glenrae lowered his hand and merely stood still, looking as unthreatening as possible while Swiftnick picked himself up.

Turpin stalked over and put his arm around the youth, glancing back at Havering who was whimpering in shock over his damaged hand. "Let's get out of here," he urged quietly. "You can ride with me, Swiftnick."

"I lost Toby," Swiftnick said miserably, leaning on the highwayman, as he wouldn't on Glenrae the stranger.

Dick chuckled. "Ah, don't worry about your prancer. Toby was easier to find than you were. Now, let's get you out of here before any of Havering's servants come back and find us here."

* * *

Despite the smattering of rain, they took a roundabout route through the woods back to Turpin's hideout to throw off any risk of pursuit and it was late when they arrived at the abandoned farmhouse. Glenrae took the horses through to the stable while Dick shooed Swiftnick inside. Swiftnick had ridden double with Dick, his arms wrapped around his waist for security. What worried Turpin and Glenrae was that he hadn't said a word all the way, even when the big Scotsman introduced himself and bundled his greatcoat around him for warmth when he started shivering. He had accepted Dick's waterskin eagerly enough, gulping the contents down thirstily.

"You hungry, lad?" Dick asked once they were inside and he went to stoke up the fire. Swiftnick shook his head, looking around him blankly. He looked very small in Glenrae's coat. Turpin studied him for a moment, then came to an abrupt decision and marched over to him briskly, propelling him towards the bed.

Swiftnick wrenched free, practically tripping over his own feet to get away. "What's wrong with you? I'm not going to hurt you. I only want to see what he did to you…" Dick glared at him in annoyed confusion.

"No," Swiftnick clutched tighter at the coat. "Go away…"

"Go….?" Turpin gaped at him then lost his temper as all the anguish and worry spilled over. "You ungrateful little wretch! Go on and suffer then!" Infuriated, he slammed out of the room, crashing the door shut behind him so hard it shook dust from the rafters.

Swiftnick stared after him, then slumped down on the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms around his middle, rocking himself in misery. "I won't cry, I won't cry…."

* * *

Glenrae jumped in surprise as Turpin crashed into the stables. He had unsaddled the horses and was getting ready to brush them down when the highwayman slammed in.

"Och man, ye'll startle the mice. What's bitten ye?"

"Swiftnick," Dick snarled. "He told me to go away!" The plaintive note in his own voice startled him into silence even as he started to pace restlessly.

"And ye went? Och, Dick me lad, do ye no ken that's the last thing yon laddie wants?"

"He doesn't want me near him!"

"Sure and he does."

"Hah!"

"Do ye no ken what it was like at his age? He looks up to ye, wants ye to be proud of him. Yon laddie does nay know how to handle this."

"I don't know as I do," Dick admitted.

Glenrae studied the brush he had picked up and then gave Turpin a level look. "Och, aye, Dick, ye do. Ye treat him the way ye'd normally treat him. He needs someone to talk to. Poor laddie is probably afeared ye'll be ashamed of him."

"Ashamed?" Dick looked shocked and swung on his heel, slamming out of the stables again. Glenrae sighed and turned to the horses. Toby snorted at him and turned back to his hay net while the chestnut ignored him. "And which of ye lucky beasts wants to be first then?" Black Bess whickered at him and he grinned. "Och, lassie, ye're quite the flirt…"

* * *

Swiftnick flinched when Turpin came back in and closed the door firmly but quietly behind him. Dick gazed at him silently for a moment, then went and fetched the silver brandy flash he kept under his pillow. Pouring out a tot into a relatively clean cup he put it to one side and filled a platter with bread, cheese and apples then he marched briskly back to Swiftnick and held the cup out to him.

"Drink," he ordered.

"But that's…" Swiftnick began uncertainly. Turpin usually threw a fit if he so much as sipped spirits.

"Do as you’re told," Dick ordered. Hesitantly, Swiftnick took it and sipped, wrinkling his nose. "Straight down." His eyes widening at the 'do it' note in Dick's voice, Swiftnick hastily gulped it down, the golden burn bringing tears to his eyes as Turpin shoved the food under his nose. "Now eat."

"But…"

"I don't believe you’re not hungry. You’re always hungry," Dick told him firmly.

Swiftnick blinked and took the cheese, taking a slow bite. The sharp full flavour made his mouth water and he took another bite more eagerly, then reached for the bread.

"Better," Dick said and sat down beside him on the bed. "When did you last eat?"

Swiftnick didn't dare look at him as he wolfed the food down, his appetite returning with every bite. "Last night I think," he admitted, blinking furiously as his eyes continued to sting with tears. "He locked me in the cellar after he…" He snuffled, refusing to cry.

"Swiftnick," Dick put his arm around his shoulders and hugged him gently. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I shouldn't have done that, but you don't know how worried I've been."

"Worried?" Swiftnick said hesitantly, warmed by the admission.

"Aye, worried. Now, talk to me. You know you can't shock me, boy. I've seen things that'd turn your hair white. You can tell me. You need to tell me."

"No…" Swiftnick shook his head. "He beat me…"

Dick said nothing, rubbing his shoulder with one hand. He could feel Swiftnick starting to tremble as the brandy loosened his tongue.

"I was so scared…" Swiftnick whispered at last. "I fell off Toby and when I woke up I couldn't remember anything. Havering told me all these lies…It seemed like forever before I started to remember and he….he…" The tears started to fall silently and he turned, huddling into Turpin's comforting arms. "I think he wanted me like I was a, a....girl…!"

"That isn't your fault. Some men are like that, they prefer men and boys to women," Dick said patiently into the silence that followed, half smiling at the highly indignant note in Swiftnick's young voice. "It wasn't anything you did or said."

"Why? I don't understand…" Swiftnick snuffled, gingerly wrapping his arms around Turpin's waist and leaning into him.

"Neither do I. If I did, I wouldn't prefer women," Dick chuckled softly. "Havering is mad, you remember that. In some twisted way, he thought that by hurting you, by taking out his fantasies on you, he could purify himself so they would never bother him again. You didn't do anything wrong. He did. He had no right to touch you or hurt you."

"He fed me…"

"Did he, did he do anything to you?" Swiftnick looked blank. "As if you were a girl?" Dick added worriedly.

"N'no…." Swiftnick stammered. "I t'think he was going to but then you…."

"Good, otherwise, I’d have had to go back and kill him," Dick said with grim truth. "Feeding you doesn't give him a right do what he wants with you. I feed you too and I've never laid a hand on you. Mind you, I have been tempted to give you a spanking from time to time, you reckless young idiot." Dick paused and hugged him tighter. "But not because you're evil. You’re not."

"I'm not?"

"No, lad, you’re not." Dick pushed him back a little and tilted Swiftnick's chin up so he could meet his eyes. "Why didn't you run away?"

"That's what I did last night. That's when they caught me and locked me in the cellar," Swiftnick said miserably. "Before that I couldn’t seem to stay awake."

"Hmmh. You felt confused all the time? Foggy? Did you drink anything odd?"

Swiftnick nodded unhappily. "Luke gave me a tincture at night. He said it'd make me feel better."

"They drugged you, but it'll pass," Dick said grimly, wondering if he should track this Luke person down and kill him. "Who else hurt you?"

"Only him," Swiftnick admitted. "He wanted to paint me. Dick, I saw the pictures he did. They were strange. I'm not like that! I'm not!"

"Hey, hush now. I know you’re not." Turpin hugged him hastily, soothing the youth with calming pats and soft words. "You think I’d have spent all this time looking for you if I thought you were strange or evil?"

Swiftnick shook his head, "I wasn't sure you would…"

"Swiftnick, my lad, I’ll always come looking for you, my word on it. Even if it's only to knock some sense into those addled wits of yours. Now, sit up and let me put the stew on before Glenrae starts moaning about being hungry. Then let's see what Havering's done to you," Dick decided briskly, urging him gently to sit up. "It's a bit late for you to take a bath in the stream, so best if we get you cleaned up here and into bed for some sleep. You want some stew?"

Swiftnick chewed his lower lip, watching Turpin doubtfully. "Did you make it?"

"No, Glenrae did," Dick said darkly.

"Oh, yes, please then."

Turpin braced his hands on his hips and raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you saying there's something wrong with my cooking?" he demanded in pretended annoyance.

Swiftnick gave him a shy grin. "No, Dick, only that as a cook you make a great highwayman…."

* * *

On a bright sunny afternoon Glenrae let his horse slow to an amble as he approached the farmhouse. He had been away for a while up to London, selling some of Turpin's loot for him and seeing what he could find out about Havering.

Reining in outside the house, he called Turpin's name and waited, not wanting to risk a musket ball by going in unannounced. Dick appeared warily at the window, then came out with a grin. "You took your time. Any trouble?"

"None at all," Glenrae said easily, unfastening a cotton bag from his saddle and handing it down to him.

"Pies?" Dick said dubiously after a peek.

"Steak and ale and an apple pie for afters."

"For my jewellery?" Dick yelped in alarm.

"No, for supper. I'm tired of your cooking," Glenrae said cheerfully, chucking him the pouch of gold pieces he had got for the gems. "Where's young Sweet Nick?"

"Down by the stream fishing. He was getting under my feet."

"How is he?"

"Still a little stiff in places, but feeling better enough to be bored," Dick admitted as Glenrae dismounted and tied his horse to an overgrown bush that the chestnut had already started munching on. "He's still having nightmares though."

"Ye leaving the lamp on for him?"

"We got past that one," Dick said quietly. "But he doesn't want the painting."

Glenrae raised an eyebrow. They had had a ceremonial burning of Havering's drawings before Glenrae left which Swiftnick had gleefully participated in, but the painting of the angel with wings Glenrae had told him to keep for a while at least. "Can I talk to him?"

Turpin shrugged. "As long as you don't frighten the fish," he agreed amiably. After putting the gold and the pies inside the farmhouse, he led the way down the overgrown path to the stream and the quiet shady pool where Swiftnick was sitting propped up against a tree. He stiffened on hearing them approach, then relaxed and let his hand drift away from the pistol beside him. "Hello, Glenrae," he greeted him shyly.

"Hello, Sweet Nick," Glenrae grinned back at him. "Here, catch."

Swiftnick caught the paper twist the Scotsman tossed him and unfastened it, his frown blossoming into a huge grin as he took out a sweet and popped it into his mouth.

"Favouritism, that is," Dick grunted as he plopped down on the grass beside his young accomplice.

Glenrae snorted and handed him a twist of liquorice. "Would I dare not bring ye anything?" he chuckled before turning back to Swiftnick. "Caught anything yet, laddie?"

Swiftnick shrugged. "Not yet," he said lazily. "How was London?"

"Expensive," Glenrae said dryly.

"Good thing it was my money then, wasn't it?" Dick observed gloomily.

"Aye," Glenrae agreed amiably. "Have ye heard about Havering?"

Swiftnick stiffened, concentrating intently on his motionless fishing pole. Turpin watched him carefully, his brown eyes concerned. "What about him?"

"They say he's gone mad," Glenrae explained.

"Gone?" Swiftnick half laughed in bitterness.

"Since Dick put that knife through his hand, he can't paint," Glenrae said quietly. "It's turned his mind. Apparently, he's said a few things about Blakemore that's got him banished from polite society too. It's been quite a scandal."

"Maybe someone should go shoot the pair of them and put everyone out of their misery," Swiftnick snapped.

Glenrae looked at Turpin in surprise. Dick leaned forward, touching Swiftnick's wrist gently until the youth slumped and looked at him miserably.

"I know. I may hang but I won't hang for murder," he sighed.

Dick smiled at him. "You’re too young for revenge," he said easily.

Glenrae frowned thoughtfully, reflecting that a stopping a painter painting was a pretty good start at revenge already. If Turpin got a chance to twist Havering's tail again, he would be bound to take it. But he was right about murdering the man. Besides, he doubted that Swiftnick could do such a thing deliberately. The lad wasn't a killer.

Swiftnick nodded to himself and then looked at Glenrae. "What about Luke?"

"Luke?" Glenrae questioned.

"His steward," Swiftnick elaborated. "He was…good to me."

"He didn't help you get away," Dick grumbled irritably. He still hadn't decided whether he wanted to shoot this Luke person or shake his hand. The man had probably done the best he could for Swiftnick all things considered. Since Havering had shot his own footmen, Dick supposed he could hardly blame the steward for watching his own back. He was aware of the hunted look Swiftnick gave him and sighed, doing his best to soften his scowl. It was inevitable that Swiftnick would appreciate anyone who had given him a friendly word.

"As far as I ken, he's still looking after Havering," Glenrae said quietly.

"Oh," Swiftnick thought about it, then slid an embarrassed look at the Scotsman. "Did they say anything about the…pictures?"

"No. I doubt if he even realises they’re missing," Glenrae admitted. "Havering's mind's gone, laddie. He thinks he's being haunted. Two headless footmen are supposed to follow him around and he keeps calling for Jacques and Ned and…." He stopped cautiously.

"Gabriel," Swiftnick whispered, shivering. Dick put his arm around his shoulders and leaned casually against the tree with him.

"You’re not Gabriel," Turpin said quietly.

"I'm not an angel either. Or a ghost…"

Dick snorted. "Don't I know it! You and your great heavy feet clomping about…"

Swiftnick grinned, reassured by the comment. His blue eyes were still uncertain when his gaze settled on Glenrae though. "The painting you gave me…" he said slowly.

"Ye don't want it."

Swiftnick shook his head. "It isn't me."

"But it is very beautiful," Glenrae said gently.

"I can….see that…but it isn't…me…"

"It is ye know," Glenrae said softly. "It's your innocence. It's the man you could be and the boy you were. It's your…potential."

"I had that silk draped over me!" Swiftnick yelped, blushing furiously.

"That wasn't what I meant," Glenrae said wryly as Dick laughed. "I meant Havering was a very good painter."

"I still don't want it." Swiftnick said sulkily.

"Och then, do ye mind if I keep it myself?"

Swiftnick stared at him, huge eyed. "Keep it?" he echoed in bewilderment.

"Aye, laddie. Yon's a beautiful picture." Glenrae gazed at him steadily and after an uncertain moment, Swiftnick nodded. "Och, that's settled then. I’d best go do something with those steak pies. I brought fresh neaps and tatties to go with them." The Scotsman rose to his feet, ruffled Swiftnick's hair and ambled back up the path towards the farmhouse.

"Dick?" Swiftnick said uncertainly.

"It's the painting that lures him, not you," Dick said simply.

"Oh…. good…"

"You don't have to sound so disappointed," Dick teased.

"I am not disappointed!"

Turpin laughed and tickled the youth's ribs, then rolled back to his feet as a giggling Swiftnick swatted at him frantically. He dodged as the youth attempted to push him in the stream, laughing and staying easily out of reach as Swiftnick scrambled up and chased him. He let him catch him on the path, then trapped him in a headlock, ruffled his hair and let him go, sending him back for the pistol and fishing pole. Breathless but grinning, Swiftnick trotted back down the path while Turpin gazed after him affectionately. Dick thought he would be all right. He was young and intelligent and already starting to bounce back. The nightmares would fade in time and the fear was already half forgotten. All he needed was to be kept occupied and distracted.

"Dick?" Swiftnick came bounding back up the path. "What are neaps and tatties?"

"Er, probably some horrible Scottish food," Turpin guessed.

"Oh, well….The pies sounded good."

Turpin grinned and draped his arm across his shoulders as they walked companionably back to the farmhouse. Thinking about it, Swiftnick's cooking was another thing he had missed. That and his ever-present but well-meaning ability to make sure Turpin's life was never dull. Dick knew he would have missed him and, whatever he might say, he was glad that he didn't have to go back to life without his young friend.

oooOooo