Chapter Text

Bea

Curtains of rain were falling over the same grove that Bea had painted that morning, grey clouds covering the darkening blue sky her brush had painstakingly tried to recreate as increasingly strong gusts of wind dived through the trees. Spooked by the storm the wildlife scurried for the protection of their dens, getting to safety just as broken branches and leafs started flying over the meadow.

Herself struggling to get home—and having to fight against the wind to get the bicycle there—Bea was finally able to reach safety as thunder started echoing in the distance. Opening the door, only to be forced to wrestle it shut, Bea put the bicycle against the wall and immediately ran inside the conservatory, the same words that had been on the tip of her tongue during the journey being repeated time and time again.

“It can’t be that bad. For sure it isn’t that bad.”

‘It’ was still attached to the side of the bicycle, carefully wrapped in a plastic protection and dripping water all over the floor. The painting’s rule over her mind, however, was momentarily broken by a far more immediate concern: the wind had thrown the conservatory doors open, water and soaked leaves were splattered all over the floor, creeping ever closer to her paintings.

“No-no-no!”

Why she reached for the rabbits’ drawings first, running in and out of the conservatory while leaving her real work at the storm’s mercy, was a question she was spared having to answer by seeing the same rabbit family whose paintings she was carrying burst through the open door, soaked and visibly shivering.

“Go inside, sweeties!”

The storm seemed to have grown in strength by the time she was able to retreat inside the sturdier part of the house, the rattling of the conservatory windows becoming louder and louder despite the now firmly closed doors. Grabbing her latest painting and placing it against the kitchen counter, Bea went to sit, crossed leg, on the floor in front of it. Her fingers rested on the plastic protection for a long while before she gathered her courage and unwrapped it.

It can’t be that bad.

The instant, the scarlet stravaganzza lying in wait burst triumphantly into view, however, she was forced to rescind those words, all the while shaking her head.

“It came out horrendous, didn’t it?”

Gathered around the heater she had placed under the small kitchen table, the rabbits turned at her question—or should she say the sound of her voice—the biggest of the group, the plump brown one with the equally brown jacket, tilting his head so much he ended up slipping on the soaked floor, losing his balance and tumbling inelegantly onto the cushion.

The sight would have made Bea smile was it not for the one she had come to call Peter remaining uncharacteristically behind his sisters. A pang of guilt pressing her stomach, she called him closer, feeling relieved when, despite everything, he did so.

“I didn’t mean to shout at you.”

Peter’s ears went up as if he had understood. Not that he possibly could have. Thinking he had was about as silly as going around telling the rabbits not to enter old Mcgregor’s garden, but even so—

It means something.

Bea got to her feet with that, exiting the kitchen to fetch towels. Her mind, however, rapidly slipped away from her guests and her intended course of action. She was back to the painting and, well, that speaking of McGregors, she had to hide it—shove it under the bed, or on top of a cabinet, or anywhere at all—before she invited Thomas here. She shuddered to think what he would think that aberration on the kitchen floor was. She felt like cringing at the mere thought he would, as sweet as that was, compliment it.

I can do better than that, she told herself, dropping the towels next to the rabbits and going back to the painting to place it over the counter. I just have to focus. To study. To—

The window rattled. Instinctively reaching for it and turning the latch to make sure it was firmly locked, Bea ended up leaning closer to the glass, searching through the rain hitting it for the manor’s lights, only now aware of the absolute darkness outside.

Strange.

Come to think of it, she had not seen any lights when running home either—and she would be lying if she said she hadn’t found it weird not to see Thomas coming to her aid when she had been fleeing the storm. Weirder still, however, was to find the conservatory open when she was rather certain he would have come and closed it at the first sign of rain.

Putting one of the towels around her shoulders, Bea went to sit next to Peter and his family. A shiver going up her spine as she rubbed her hands together in front of the heater, she then dedicated herself to the inglorious task of trying to dry the three playfully squabbling females. Not even their antics, however—or the focus it took to keep any of them still for more than three seconds—were enough for her not glance at the window, concern weaving its way into her mind.

“Have any of you seen Thomas today?”

Had she been looking at the rabbits she might have noticed the knowledgeable looks being traded, maybe even their undoubtedly victorious expressions. Then again, if she had, Bea would have dismissed all of it as being her imagination, as she so often did. Stopping midway into drying Peter, she took him into her arms and went back to study the darkness outside.

“Did he go to town?”

A scar of lightning ripped through the clouds, the now much closer rumbling making Peter jump out of her arms to rejoin his suddenly quiet family. For Bea, however, that split second had been enough to see the familiar shape of a car occupying the manor’s side entrance and for her stomach to twist.

No. Not in town.

There was probably nothing to be worried about, however. He could be already be in bed—

Doubtful.

Or maybe the electricity was out due to the—

Her attention fell on the heater, its red hot resistance leading her to step outside the kitchen, take a jacket out of the coat hanger and, putting it over the soaked clothes she hadn’t yet got a chance to jump out of, stride for the door.

She was just opening it when she saw both Peter and the brown male hopping behind her. It was incredibly sweet and it simply wouldn’t do.

“No,” she stated, firmly. “You two have to stay here.”

Night had firmly closed its grasp over the meadows when she stepped outside. The wind whistled as it went passed the trees. From everywhere rose sounds of wood breaking and whining.

Feet sinking into the soaked grass, having to fight against the wind to advance, Bea got passed the garden’s door, walking alongside the flower beds until she finally got herself to the front door.

There truly were no lights on.

No music was playing.

Upon knocking, Bea could hear no movement inside.

“Thomas?”

Thunder roared overhead. Trying the doorbell and again having no answer, she leaned to look through the nearest window and, upon seeing nothing, turned the knob. The door opened. And her surprise that it did was such that she let it slip from her grasp. The wind took care of the rest sending it crashing into the wall.

Not even that was enough to warrant her any answer.

“Thomas?”

Again silence. Bea hit the lights, attention immediately falling on the turned entry table and the objects lying on the floor. If nothing else had pointed to the fact that something was very very wrong, that did.

“Thomas!”

She was getting frantic now. Fear twisting her stomach, the hint of panic in her voice threatening to consume her mind as she made her way back to the entrance, stepping into the ferocious rain, eyes surveying the garden.

He can’t be outside. He can’t possibly be outside!

She swore if was securing anything in the garden in this weather, she would—

He wouldn’t do that with the lights off!

“Thomas!”

Rain beat her face as she looked feverishly around. Fallen plants making her stumble as what she could only imagine were fruits burst under her feet. If there was a moment to curse herself for not having thought of bringing a flashlight that moment was now. The only light she could count on came from up above, from the nearly incessant lightning, and that was little above nothing. It blinded her more than anything else.

“Thomas?”

Hugging the jacket close to her body, Bea entered one of the paths nearest the house, the thought that she had heard something making her venture further.

“Tho—?”

A strong gust of wind caught her from behind. Being sent stumbling forward, a scared gasp crossing her lips when her feet got trapped on something lying across the path, Bea felt herself falling, then hitting the floor just a moan reached her ears.

Hands sinking through mud and water, heart beating in such a way it seemed about to burst out of her chest, Bea felt it fall through the floor when she saw what it was that she had tripped over.

Thomas.

No sound made it through her lips this time. Instead, she was rushing to his side, dropping to her knees, trying to fish her cellphone out of her pockets as she reached to pull his head out of the mud and softly hit his cheek, trying to rise him up.

“Wake up. Please, wake up,” she pleaded, stealing glances at the cellphone, the memory of Thomas’ absolutely outraged expression when he had found out there was no coverage here and that had made her laugh so much at the time, almost making her burst into tears now. There was no coverage. Of course, there was no coverage! That was the reason she had come here in the first place! “Wake up!”

Maybe it was the panic in her voice that did the trick, maybe it was just coincidence, it didn’t matter. He was stirring. Her relief at seeing his eyelids flutter, a pair of confused green eyes appearing from under them was, however, immediately destroyed by a thunderous explosion overhead and a huge flash making the night appear as day.

Hearing wood whine and crack as a lightning bolt cut through the clouds and dived to the earth, Bea turned in a panic. There was nothing she could do as the tree it had hit crashed into her house.