drrutherford

[drrutherford]

Michiel Huisman

[drrutherford]

LOCATION — Outside Cecelia Hathaway's home. DATE — Late April, 2025 (ie; before the custody trial outcome) SELF-PARA — mentioned @ceceliaahathaway

Breaking a self-imposed rule, Gideon tells himself, needn't spell disaster. Breaking it just briefly doesn't mean that said rule can't be expediently reestablished as soon as it's prudent to do so. In fact, it's hardly breaking the rule if it's ignored only for a day, say, or even just an hour... More like bending it, really.

It's how he finds himself collecting a small bouquet of Easter lilies from the florist, and a condolences card from the nearest gas station on his way to Cecelia's home. His rule – to avoid the Hathaway as much as socially feasible for a spell – is not in place without good cause. The last time they'd seen each other, Cecelia's life was imploding in a self-made cyclone, consuming everything and everyone in her path. The last time they had seen each other, she'd kissed him while he was in a relationship with another woman.

And although it's been nearly a year since then, a year in which he's broken up, gone through a familial Odyssey of his own — it's still no time to throw caution to the wind and risk being swallowed up by a Hathaway vortex. Not when he is still waiting on the court's decision regarding Felix's custody, and even the slightest stir of public scandal might cost him the chance to be recognized as a fit parent for his six-year-old son.

So he's crouching to leave the card and flowers at the foot of her stairs when the door above wrenches open abruptly, and his wager decidedly crumbles. Gideon's eyes stay on the pavement for a minute, even as he straightens, before he quells the trepidation fluttering beneath his skin and lifts his gaze. Of course, too much to hope that it'd just be one of her harmless daughters, or maybe even one of the household staff...

No. It's Cece herself, eyeing him like a panther eyes an antelope. A very sleek panther, with a black tailored skirt-suit, a matching birdcage veil daintily pinned to her chignon. Unsmiling, she sweeps down the front steps and plucks his card off the ground while he's still taking in the dramatic flair of her mourning outfit, slack jawed.

"I just- I heard about the Pope and since you're, y'know-..." His voice croaks abashedly over the words. The surgeon stuffs his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight as Cecelia Hathaway yanks the card free of its crisp white envelope and begins to scan its contents. A disbelieving huff escapes him. "You know it's rather rude to read a ca—"

"— Are you coming inside or not?" His mouth hangs open in answer, but the blonde doesn't seem to be expecting one as she whirls around and proceeds up the steps again. It's only when she tacks on the next line, coolly sardonic, that the decision is made for him in an instant. "Don't worry, I won't kiss you."

⬎

Inside, the atmosphere's hardly any more receptive. To the degree he wonders why on earth she's invited him, and whether he'll have cause to regret the splintering cracks in his self-imposed rule. Still, he tries. To be civil, polite. To extend his condolences about the Pope's passing and lend a sympathetic ear to the staunch Catholic's account of his much-lauded resume as spiritual guide and leader. It's all he can do not to squirm in his seat, caught between the virtues Cecelia's drumming off on her fingers and the hawk-like sharpness of her gaze. He feels strangely reduced to a schoolboy; caught in midst of some juvenile infraction by a head nun or the stern-faced local priest.

He's not a believer, not remotely religious, and Cece knows it. So is that what this is about, or is she skewering him to the sofa with her gaze for other reasons entirely?...

"How's your son?"

The sudden switch in the conversation leaves him dumbstruck once more, and his lips part in belated search of an answer. That's right... She had met Felix when last they'd seen each other at that cricket game. It's not a memory he wishes to revisit just now, not under Cece's merciless scrutiny. And he doesn't trust her enough to tell her about the ongoing custody trial, either. "He's fine, turning seven in June... A full-grown adult in his own head." Gideon replies, rifling through a stock of safe, pre-scripted answers given to anyone who asks about his son these days.

The blonde matriarch doesn't seem to mind. "And your girlfriend?"

"Ex."

"Oh well, probably for the best."

He looks up sharply, but Cecelia's focus is on reaching for a bourbon biscuit. There's no malice in her reply, he realizes, just a genuine lack of vested interest. She might as well be comforting one of her daughters about an unrequited teen crush.

"Depends on who you ask." He retorts, vaguely miffed for reasons he himself doesn't understand. Would malice have been better than her utter lack of surprise?... Gideon isn't sure. "How 'bout Adam?" He volleys back, if for no other reason than to even the playing field of touchy subjects between them.

"I'm sorry," Cecelia interrupts with a sudden flurry of movement, not sounding one bit sorry. "I really need to be going now if I mean to catch my flight."

He lowers the teacup from his mouth. "Where are you off to?"

She looks at him as if he's dumber than her dog, whose big, slobbery grin he spots on the mantelpiece, next to a rather more dignified portrait of Adam. Oddly, there is no sign of a dog in the house. Not so oddly, there's no sign of her husband, either.

"Vatican City." Cecelia sets her saucer down on the coffee table between them and uncrosses her legs before standing. "I should've thought that was obvious."

"You're going all the way to Italy?" Gideon asks with a start.

"What do you think I'm dressed for, Rutherford? Or do you imagine this is what I wear on a casual Friday afternoon in my own home?" Cecelia scoffs, taking his teacup from him before disappearing briefly into the other room.

Truth be told, he has no clue. Gideon can't imagine what a casual any day looks like for Cecelia Hathaway, not when he's always found her in some outlandish circumstance or another. Flirting with him outrageously in the men's lavatory at an awards ceremony, faux accent and short flapper dress for a murder mystery party, fending off a flurry of incriminating photographs in the middle of a wintry parking lot, dazed and bleeding after an innocuous cricket game... There's a permanent theatricality about her that he no longer questions; a second skin he isn't sure she can shed, even if she wanted to.

⬎

So that's how he finds himself hauling the last of her suitcases into the boot of her car. "Don't you have like... A butler to do these kinds of things or something?" The surgeon grumbles, feeling his muscles strain from the bulkiest piece of luggage... God knows what she'd packed in there. Judging by the weight, maybe St. Peter's crucifixion cross.

"Why?" Cece purrs, perfume accosting his senses as she brushes by him to assess the personal items piled in the back. "Interested in applying?"

Despite the long-suffering look he shoots her, it finds him again; the sense of fractional disbalance she provokes every so often and without warning, as if they're standing on tectonic plates that keep shifting imperceptibly beneath his feet. "Are you done?"

"One more thing." The blonde sails up the steps and into her home again, leaving him to stare up at the sky until she returns. His gaze swivels over to meet her, one brow cocking in question when she extends a business card to him, mirroring another of their interactions, what feels like a lifetime ago. Except rather than a PI, this one has the name of a priest on it, one Fr. Doherty.

Gideon snorts. "Let me guess, book myself in for a baptism."

"No, and I don't mean confession, either." The Catholic counters in a measured tone, as if they're talking about salad toppings rather than souls. "Talk to him if you ever need it. I've found him to be an awfully understanding and non-judgmental listener."

The Rutherford searches her expression for a moment, catching that rare glimpse of sincerity. He tucks the card into his coat pocket. "Not that you'd know from firsthand experience, surely... Not Saint Cecilia." He cracks half a smile, giving her an easy out from the brief vulnerability her confession creates. "Well, then... Take care of yourself."

Later, he'll tell himself he should've seen it coming when she stops abruptly, whips her head up and fixes him with the indomitable blue of her eyes. But he hasn't seen her in a while, the gears in his mind slow to calculate her next move. Abruptly, Cecelia smiles. A crimson curl of her lips, a generous flash of her pearly whites as if they're at a benefit gala and she's bestowing all her charity on him in one fell swoop... And then she winks.

"Oh don't worry, Gideon, darling... You know I always do."

[drrutherford]

[drrutherford]

hesdeadjim84: I can't believe these pictures are over half a decade old... Thank you for giving me two reasons to celebrate fatherhood in June, and happy 7th birthday to the best son a man could ask for. #timeflies, #bigboybirthday, #favouritemonth

[drrutherford]

"If my Felix gets his way, I suspect it's only a matter of time before we'll have a family member on the women's national..." Gideon tosses back the repartee while watching their children with a sense of detached admiration; one eager to teach, the other to imitate, despite her young age. "... God help us all." He adds under his breath, more in reference to his enthusiastic son. As a surgeon, it's basically in the job description for him to already be envisioning the innumerable opportunities for accidents and head injuries along the way, but there's little fun in being a child without taking some risks.

At the very least, both Felixes seem to respect the sound of Yvonne's voice, and the six-year-old watches her with solemn blue eyes before letting the ball roll to the ground to teach Maddie how to pass. "Give it a few more years and you'll be adding soccer mom to your resume." Gideon opines, before laughing at his sister's remark about the name dilemma, an answer already forming on the tip of his tongue.

"Felix One and Felix Two." The surgeon's mouth sweeps into a broad grin, numbering them as if they're a set of drones in Star Wars. "Sorry, Rodriguez, mine entered the family first." He sticks his arm out to offer his brother-in-law a beer as a consolation prize when the older man strolls over. "How's the wedding planning going?"

"With your feet, Maddie, not your hands." Yvonne kicked her own foot up in demonstration from her lounger as Maddie bent down to pick up the soccer ball. Maddie and Felix (Gideon's, not Yvonne's) were getting along like peanut butter and jelly. For the most part. But they had time to learn to adjust to each other.

"If your Felix gets his way, she'll be the only sports fan among us." Red splotches were spreading across the toddler's face as she missed the ball once again and it went bouncing off towards the garden wall. "Fe, I think that skill might be a little too advanced for Maddie. Why don't you guys work on passing some more?" Félix's head popped up from where he was pushing Isabel in a swing, a confused expression painted across his face.

"What was that, dear?"

"Not you, the other Felix."

She laid back on the lounger and turned her head towards Gideon. "We really need to figure out how to differentiate them."

[drrutherford]

LOCATION — Yvonne's Garden. DATE — Monday, May 26, 2025. STARTER — closed for @yvonne-rutherford

In a matter of days, weeks, it's like he's become an entirely new person... Or rather, a glimmer of the man he used to be, just over a decade ago. More relaxed, mouth prone to melting for a smile more readily than it'll firm into a frown.

Of course, the change is thanks to the end – and finally, victory – of a third and last appeal to obtain full custody of his son. Eight months in court, and it's been worth every sleepless night, every new strand of silver peppered into the brown of his hair.

... Not that everything's perfect, now that the ink has dried on Felix's new guardianship documents. True to her promise, his ex-wife has sharpened her talons and appealed to her loyal hounds, so the media has once again reared its ugly head in his direction. But he's older this time around, more prepared for whatever libelous gossip might come his way over the next few months... Gideon also knows now what he didn't back then; that public interest – even hatred – has a deadline, the spotlight's glare never lasts forever.

Besides, there's something poetic about the fact that what seems to be Katherine's greatest fear, the spotlight's fickle, flimsy mortality, is now his greatest comfort.

Besides, he has better things to think about nowadays.

... Like the fact that he's enjoying not the first, not the second, but the third playdate between his son and his nieces in as many weeks — an unprecedented rate before this month, given how difficult it'd always been for him to get Felix for a weekend, let alone be given enough notice to make plans in advance with his siblings.

What makes it even better is the long weekend, the sun being out (another rare English blessing), and that together with his sister and brother-in-law, he's soaking it up while keeping an eye on his son's attempts to teach his younger cousin how to play football.

"Easy, Fe!..." The father calls out, as the boy's eager attempts to show Maddie how to bounce the ball on one knee, narrowly missing her ear on one up-strike. Gideon leans back into his lawn chair. "... Blimey, doubt he'll let up until he's made her a Man U fan."

[drrutherford]

You take me for a fool, that doesn't make me foolish, Told me I was wrong, passion made you ruthless, Manipulate, It's just too late, oh Lord! 'Cause I ain't going back no more.

Your fueling of the flames gonna show you what I'm made of Breakin' me, shakin' me, shapin' me into what I never wanted, oh– Breakin' me, shakin' me makin' my beatin' heart a little stronger.

Breakin' every chain that you put on me, You thought I wouldn't change but I grew on you, 'Cause I will never be what you wanted, This fire, this fire – Is keeping me alive.

[drrutherford]

Michiel Huisman for GQ, February 2016. Photography by Anders Øvergaard.

[drrutherford]

Pt. III/III (cont. from pt. I, II)

"This court has reached its final verdict. Miss Katherine Mayfair's parental rights are henceforth terminated. Full custody of the child, Felix, is now awarded to Mr. Gideon Rutherford, with maternal visitations permitted as per his judgment and discretion."

The judge has spoken, the gavel has come down.

It feels like the first time he'd stood at the mercy of this court, waiting for the verdict. Gideon is so tense he feels like he's going to crack. A cold sweat's broken over his brow, and when his lawyer reaches to place a hand on the crook of his arm, the Rutherford's legs begin to shake. His hands curl more tightly in front of him, knuckles turning white.

"Did you hear that, Gideon?..." Mr. Dalton claps him on the shoulder, tries to shake him out of his catatonic state. "Congratulations, son. Now might be a good time to remind you that you owe me that Sazerac cocktail at the Savoy, after all."

"Mr. Dalton, I- I..." Words fail him. Despite their exhaustive meetings over the last twelve months, despite all of his fastidious planning, he'd never prepared for this moment. Never dared dream of it, even.

The older gentleman grins broadly, giving him another whack on the shoulder.

"Get some rest, I'll be in touch. It's over, Gideon."

It's over...

Katherine accosts him sharply, first her voice, and then her perfume. "This isn't over," she hisses, ensnaring his wrist. Her manicured nails dig into his skin, blue eyes flash with anger. "Wait until this hits the public, you are going to be Enemy Number One."

He looks into his ex-wife's face. It's so distorted with venom that it's easy to miss the fact that she's, rarely, sober. And for the first time in a long time, he feels a stab of pity for her. Not for their former relationship, which she ground to dust, not for the court's decision, which will finally put first the needs of their son — but for the fact that in all the years that Katherine puts her vices and her celebrity ahead of him, she never truly understood the priceless value of the child she was willing to jeopardize in the process.

One day, he thinks it'll dawn on her. But it doesn't look like that day's today.

"Miss Mayfair, please remember that you're still in court." The judge's voice rings out in stern admonishment, carding his files briskly into his briefcase. He nods to the Royal Court of Arms pinned on the wall behind him.

Katherine drops his arm as if she's been scalded. "It isn't over." She repeats, shoving past him. In her unholy ire, she forgets to speak to their son before storming out.

... It's over.

Stiffly, the neurosurgeon turns to look for Felix – who for the most part, has been kept safely out of the courtroom drama these last few months – until his presence had been required again today, for the final outcome. But the child beats him to it, slamming into him with his tiny arms outstretched, briefly knocking the air from his father's lungs.

"Fe—"

"Does this mean I get to stay with you all the time, now?"

He can't speak for the knot forming in his throat. The Rutherford smooths his son's hair back with trembling fingers, leaning down to press a kiss against his forehead in that way which, as he's been getting older, has started to make the boy wriggle and squirm. As he straightens, he catches his lawyer's eye again and mouths 'thank you'.

"Are we going to get ice cream with Auntie Lara now??"

A chuckle makes it past the knot in his throat as Gideon escorts his son out from the narrow bench and towards the double-doors signaling the exit. "Reckon we should."

All of his siblings had rallied for a get together to celebrate, but he had repeatedly declined, too afraid to hope that the decision would swing his way, certain that their quiet pity and genuine concern might push him over the edge, if it didn't.

Lara hadn't taken no for an answer. 'I'll be there. What you do with that is up to you.'

There's no brilliant sun or beautiful rainbow to welcome them as father and son step out of the courtroom, hand-in-hand. The skies in London are as grey and overcast as ever, promising nothing but more rain. The world keeps turning on as usual.

But it doesn't matter. It may as well be the clearest day he's ever seen. And as Gideon tilts his face up to the sky, he feels a welcome wind brushing against the tears in his eyes, telling him, no more. His grip tightens round Felix's stubby little fingers.

"I love you." The words come out raw and aching, but real. "I'll always love you, Felix."

[drrutherford]

hesdeadjim84: When you relive your college days by playing a match of competitive Badminton only to find you’ve still got it... Somewhat. Sorry Anderson. #RustyForm, #StillStruckTheBall, #DoesThatCount

[drrutherford]

“There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self.”

— Ernest Hemingway

[drrutherford]

The Rutherfords.

[drrutherford]

~ Ocean Vuong, On Earth We Are Briefly Gorgeous

[drrutherford]

LOCATION — Cassandra's home. DATE — April 4th, 2025. STARTER — closed for @cassandra-acton

The spontaneous laugh that reverberated up his throat seemed to startle her child, who had been up until then peacefully nestled against his chest. That prompted the wriggling, the waving fingers that nearly took out his eye as the almost two-year-old reached out for a stretch, and the immediate, reflexive tension in the arm around her waist to keep her from toppling off his lap.

Kids. Were they really kids unless they were trying to challenge survival at every turn?

It seemed only a blink since his niece, Maddie, had been the same age; a few blinks longer since his own son had been scrambling on and off his lap like a little monkey. Thinking of Felix brought with it an inevitable ache, the bloom of stress surrounding the custody case Gideon was fighting for the third time against his ex-wife. His eyes skated to the cell on Cassadra's coffee table. Cursing himself again for having agreed to a No Phones rule this afternoon with the overworked MP.

Thankfully, another sour quip from the blonde succeeded in wrestling for his attention before he could give in. "Right," Gideon surmised, leaning over to free her daughter, the burst of toddler zoomies now unrestrained. "Still surrounded by vainglorious wankers in Parliament... if I look outside, I'm sure the sky is enduringly blue. What else is new?"

Though he cared for few politicians outside his own friends, it still made for a better topic than the mindless brutes beating each other to pulps in his sister's regrettably annual horror-show. Given the phone ban at the event, it was yet another reason to resist the impulse of continually checking his own notifications. It'd be hours before any might come. He tried to remind himself that none of his own siblings were stupid enough to be in the ring tonight, but that hardly mattered... The attack on Lara a few years ago had proven as much. Why the grisly event persisted was beyond him.

Virtually any topic beat that.

[drrutherford]

[drrutherford]

[drrutherford]

Pt. II/III (cont. from pt. I)

True to her warning, she hasn't made it easy for him.

His legal team had promised that this time would be different, that the trial wouldn't drag on for months on end, that they had enough evidence to nip it all in the bud and terminate Katherine's legal rights as a parent for once and for all.

But the reality of the courtroom paints a more sobering picture. As weeks drag into months, Gideon's papery-thin hope begins to fray around the edges; threatening to tear into pieces so small he fears he won't be able to find it again if this fails.

And like a bloodhound, his ex-wife seems to know it.

He suspects it's why she has cornered him here, as he's getting off the phone with a worried Yvonne, in one of the courthouse's stifling and claustrophobic antechambers. Or maybe that's just Katherine's effect on him; the way she always charges into his personal space as if it's still hers to claim.

"It didn't work out with her, did it?... The mousy brunette. Are you trying to get Felix, so you'll finally have someone who won't leave you?"

He tenses at the reference to Amélie, he doesn't like that she's found out, even if she's many months late. Knowing Katherine, she won't hesitate to use it to some advantage. She's scathingly bitter that he's aired her dirty secrets to the court; secrets he'd kept to himself for too many years. Because he'd loved her. Because he was a damn fool. "I was the one who served those divorce papers, remember? Funny you'd forget it, given how ruthlessly you used that as part of your abandoned wife narrative to the media."

Katherine's eyes glisten as she tilts her neck to look up at him. "You did abandon me." There's so much pathos in it that for a moment, he nearly thinks she believes it. Until the blonde jabs a finger in his chest with so much enmity Gideon's certain he'll find the shape of her nail carved into his sternum long after they're done here. "You never cared about me, or else you wouldn't be doing this now."

"I adored you. And you-... You cheated on me! Repeatedly!!" Gideon explodes. It's hard to remember that she's always been an actress, playing her favourite part even after all these years. He hates falling for the same trick, but he's especially tired today, hanging on the end of his rope after being seared under the magnifying glass by her own team of lawyers. "And you lied! Three whole years of marriage, you never stopped lying. You endangered Felix's wellbeing, even, just to keep your crack and lead your double life."

"Like the innocent doctor whose family has ties to the mob?"

"THIS ISN'T ABOUT MY FAMIL-"

"Mr. Rutherford!!" Another voice cuts through the verbal fray, his white-haired lawyer strides into the room, sharp with disapproval. "What have we agreed? This conduct is hardly befitting of either of you, much less a man in your position."

"Yes, a man in your position." His ex-wife echoes as she takes a step back, every bit the poisonous snake as Adriana calls her. "You've lost twice already, darling... What makes you think it'll be different this time? Have the dignity to know when you're losing."

What makes you think it'll be different this time?

She doesn't care for an answer, not really, but the reasons surface in his mind anyway, breaking slowly through the rise she's gotten out of him.

He doesn't love her anymore — that's what makes it different, for one.

He'd still been grieving their relationship that very first time they'd gone to court, and even a year later when he'd tried again, the hurt Katherine was still able to provoke in him should've been a warning he hadn't truly gotten over her... That he couldn't fight fire with fire because some part of him still wanted to protect her. Although it didn't work out between them, he has Amélie to thank for falling in love again... For finally, wholly and utterly, getting over his ex-wife. It was his family who'd insisted that he deserved to find love again, but it was Amélie who showed him how.

Secondly, he's learned that he was wrong. He'd suppressed the gory evidence of her misdeeds the first time they'd gone to court, trying to spare her reputation and save their son the pain of one day reading the mud-slinging contest between his parents. But it'd been both masochistic and naïve. The only thing he had achieved by omission was to jeopardize the boy. If he'd gotten custody from the get-go, Felix would at least be under the care of a parent who was not an addict, not a cheater, not a fame seeker. A parent who had his own flaws, but knew at least how to put his child first.

His family had tried to warn him, but he hadn't listened. He hadn't understood it then.

He understands it now.

His anger begins to subside. His gaze finds Mr. Dalton's, anchoring himself to the calm surety in the older man's eyes. Gideon forces himself to nod. "You're right... I'm done."

"Excuse us, Miss Mayfair." But the lawyer isn't waiting for anyone's permission as his hand finds the surgeon's spine rather firmly, leading him to the antechamber's doors.

"You said it yourself, Gideon, this isn't about family." His ex-wife's voice reaches him as his hand makes contact with the embossed trim on the heavy, old door. "So drop this farce while you still have the chance... Before I decide you don't get to see him at all."

He feels his pulse fluttering in his throat, the pressure band squeezing tight around his temples. "Don't answer that," his lawyer mutters pointedly while escorting him through the exit. "Learn to pick your battles, Mr. Rutherford, you cannot win them all."

Once, he'd have fought the world for his wife, their marriage, and a white picket fence.

Now, all he wants is his boy.