Thirty Bells: [Action/Written]

[simplestgift]

[Archie Kennedy opens his eyes with his back against something hard, his wings spread out over solidness even as he grows aware of the prickle of grass underneath him. He is curled up on his side, wearing new feather trousers and shivering horribly. He hugs himself for warmth, and movement brings the rain to his attention. He is soaked.

My God, what did I lose? His hand grasps for the St. Michael pendant Horatio gave him for his birthday last year, only to find empty air.

He left it at home.

His wings twitch, and he twists to find himself pressed against a tall rock, probably near one of the lakes. His disorientation in full swing, he doesn’t even bother to try to figure out which lake it is. He sits up, waits for the world to stop whirling, and takes a shaky, hasty inventory.

Arms and legs. Nose and ears and eyes. Touch, taste, smell, sight, hearing. Ten fingers, ten toes, a wild mass of blond hair unbound and sticking to his damp neck and forehead.

What did he lose?

Still trembling, he curls against the rock and tries breathing for a bit.

Memories, maybe? Any holes in his memory? How is he to know?

Horatio. He remembers Horatio, thank God. Buffy, Jilly, Jack, Leonard, Elizabeth. Father is Finley Kennedy, mother is Elspeth, siblings Finley, Neil, and Abigail. His grandfather pushed him into the Navy. His first ship was the Swiftsure. Is everything important there?

Off on a mission, and now he's back as if he'd never left. Nothing hurts. The only pain now is in finding out what he paid to come back to life. And in telling…

No. He is not going to tell Horatio about another instance where he wasn’t able to protect him, especially from death. He can’t call for help, because anyone who finds him in this state will know, and no one can know.

His wings shiver, shaking off water, then wrap around his body as well as they can. He’s always so inclined to forget they exist, but they do help to stave off the rain and warm him a little. Then, weakly, his knees threatening to buckle under him, he stands up. It’s a long walk home, and he has to make it alone.

The next two hours pass in a haze as he finds the road and follows it, limiting himself to two thoughts every quarter-hour if he can help it. After a while, he doesn’t feel especially cold anymore, which he vaguely knows from his first appearance in Luceti is a bad sign. Sheltering in the tree village won’t help him get dry when he’s already soaked, so he continues at the quickest pace he can manage. It’d be even worse to die of hypothermia just after coming back from the dead.

In the village, he steals quietly toward the clothes shop, shivering hard and pale as a ghost.

It’s going to have to be a matter of putting on the face again. No one can suspect something is wrong. Those who aren’t scornful will be compassionate, and he doesn’t think he can take compassion right now.

The door to house 36 opens very, very quietly, and the lieutenant slips inside as if he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s there. As quickly as he can, he’ll find the St. Michael pendant and slip it on.

It takes some time, but in the evening, over a cup of tea in the tea shop, he writes on the journals, shortly:]

I’m back from my mission.

-AK

[At night, he goes out for a drink. He doesn't make it to Good Spirits.]

[OOC: First chronological tag goes to Amelia, last to John Watson.]

Comments

[theoniongirl]

[for a moment, there's just the comfort of feeling that he's really there and solid. His grip was strong, which said that he couldn't be injured. Not really. So, grateful, she leans back and lounges happily on the corner cushion of the couch. A quick cursory glance gets an amused look when she notices his hair]

All that work for them, and they made you walk back in the rain? That doesn't seem fair at all.

[it's light. There's nothing searching about her tone.]

[simplestgift]

[A grim smile. This excuse, he's practiced.] Well, you know they send us back somewhat abruptly. I guess not everyone is lucky enough to wind up in the village.

[theoniongirl]

They really need to work on showing gratitude.

[she settled happily against the arm of the couch] So...how'd it go? What'd they have you doing?

[simplestgift]

Sailing. Same sort of thing that happened in one of the drafts. [His chest tightens. He doesn't want to talk about this.] Nothing spectacular. Did you want anything?

[theoniongirl]

[for the first time, her expression shifts, surprise replacing some of the joy of seeing him]

What?

[perhaps he only meant to ask if she wanted something to eat or drink, but the abruptness of it caught her off guard...like he was ushering her out of the conversation as politely as possible]

[simplestgift]

Tea, chocolate... [He trails off, not sure what he said to surprise her.]

[theoniongirl]

Oh.

[of course. She still feels slightly off-kilter, like she's sensing something...strange...but now she feels more silly than anything. Her smile slides back into place] Only if you have something already made.

[simplestgift]

I have coffee. [He leans back against the couch, practically plastered to it. He's wondering about a nap.]

[theoniongirl]

I'll get some, then. [as relaxed as she'd been a moment before, she's quick to get to her feet. Full of energy, where he looks exhausted] Do you want a cup?

[simplestgift]

[She's his sis. He's not greatly worried about her getting her own coffee. Or his. He passes his mug up to her happily.]

[theoniongirl]

Lazy bum.

[but she accepts the mug with a smile before heading into the kitchen to get them both a hot drink.]

[simplestgift]

[Lazy. Right. Two hours in the rain, then huddled under blankets until he stopped shivering. He could tell Jilly, and she wouldn't tell anyone.

No. No, even thinking about dealing with the fallout of this causes dread to well up, a black wave overcoming him. She would be hurt and worried and he wouldn't be any better off. Things are just fine the way they are.]

[theoniongirl]

[she's not gone for very long before she returns with the two mugs. The silence doesn't bother her. Honestly, she remembers how tired she was after her mission, too. And just because she'd ignored it to bounce around the village doesn't mean she can't understand why he isn't.

She's careful when she passes him back the newly filled mug, not wanting to spill on him]

Horatio knows you're back, I'm sure?

[simplestgift]

[He nods as he takes the mug and sips.] Not very easily hidden when we live in the same house.

[theoniongirl]

And I don't think he'd appreciate it if you'd tried hiding it. [it's teasing, trying to get a smile out of him. Probably he was just tired, but she didn't like the slightly uneasy feel the conversation had.

It wasn't that Archie was always bubbly or forthcoming. He wasn't. There were days when their "talks" might consist of a handful of words around long bouts of silence. He really was like Geordie in that way, where she could be comfortable around him whether they were full of stories or just passing the time. But he seemed distracted.

Mentally, she chided herself. He had to be exhausted. She couldn't really expect him to be eagerly awaiting her. Not until he'd had a chance to rest. And, with that in mind, she gave him a smile] When's the last time you slept? Maybe I shouldn't have refilled your cup.

[simplestgift]

[Archie peers into his cup.]

I'm all right. [Another gulp.] I'd like it very much if we could talk. It seems you were hardly here before I left.

[theoniongirl]

Two ships passing in the night.

[settling back into her little corner of the couch, she relaxed] Well, I'm not going anywhere. Though I've only got the most boring of stories to tell you. It's been quiet.

I did save a cop from the woods, though.

[simplestgift]

A cop...?

[theoniongirl]

A police officer. [she hesitated] Is that what they called them in your time? The people hired to uphold the law?

[simplestgift]

Oh. [A beat.] We didn't...well, we did have them, as such, but not in very many cities. The Glasgow Police weren't very useful, usually.

[theoniongirl]

Really?

[she looks thoughtful at that] I guess some people would say the same, when I'm from. But that's not really fair. I guess it's like any institution. They can't always do the job the way you want, but most of the people involved really try.

They're in nearly every place, when I'm from.

[simplestgift]

No, I mean--the Glasgow Police are a bit like the Blue Rogues. You never hear of them doing much.

[theoniongirl]

[she gave a small laugh at that] Well, this one didn't seem like the type to just sit aside. I met her and her boss. Apparently they both arrived here at the same time, along with a doctor from their world.

[simplestgift]

[The mention of the doctor makes him miss Leonard horribly. He looks briefly wistful.]

Good people?

[theoniongirl]

[she smiled] I think so. They were stressed, of course. But nice.