Thirty-One Bells: [Action/Written]

[simplestgift]

[It’s been over a month since Archie Kennedy died and had his worst fears realized.

It’s been over a month since his first seizure in almost eight years.

Ever since, he has barely left the house, barely spoken to anyone. But last night, he opened the window before falling asleep. Somehow, it made all the difference.

In the prison at Ferrol, it had been a drink of water, soothing his parched mouth and throat and letting him sleep easier so he woke hungry. Eating strengthened him, and he slept even better after breakfast, waking with the strength to live the rest of the day. Little by little, small things, and most of all Horatio, had coaxed him back into health and the belief that things can be good again.

Today, it’s the sun and a light breeze waking him after a long sleep. Fresh spring air and the promise of warm light make him want to leave the house at last. So after showering, shaving, and trimming his hair, he dresses in something decidedly civilian but still native to his period and steps outside.

Anyone who sees him as he wanders the village, if they knew him before, will notice he has lost a good ten or fifteen pounds in the last month, and is pale as a ghost. Others might see how loosely his clothing fits him. Provided no one intercepts him and makes him eat first, he starts at Seventh Heaven with a hearty breakfast platter, regaining his appetite as he replenishes the nutrients in his body. Feeling much better, he heads to the barracks for some shooting practice, then his own backyard to try to get back in shape with swordplay. The drills Jack taught him are even more exhausting now than they were when he first started, but the exercise feels good for about half an hour.

After another shower and a quick library trip, by which point he has reached a somewhat manic state (he’ll be going back and forth between manic and depressive in the months to come), he walks out of the grocery store with what seems to be enough food to feed Kent (or possibly Rhode Island, if you’re American). He then spends the rest of the afternoon cooking up a Proper British Dinner on board the Britannia the way Jack Aubrey used to do. A simple message alerts his housemates, James Norrington, and, as an afterthought, Richard Sharpe, to dinner in the captain’s cabin right around four o’clock, promising wine, cider, and brandy, steak and turnip pie (but not for you, William), salmagundi, lobster, spinage toasts, a shoulder of beef, asparagus, mushroom catsup (which resembles Worcestershire sauce), a spiced steamed pudding, and peach tarts with heavy cream. The leftovers, he will take to Jack Sparrow at his house.

Boy needed a calling. This may as well be it.

After cleaning up and washing the dishes and an impromptu nap in the grass behind his house with an open book on his chest, he thinks he has finally worked up the courage to visit Jilly at House 7 and Buffy at Good Spirits and write a message to Amelia McFly to meet him somewhere. Time to come clean about some things. Telling Horatio about recent events lifted a huge weight from his chest, so maybe telling everyone else will enable him to fly.

Lastly, he writes a message to Elizabeth Swann to meet him behind house 36 and to wear something comfortable. When she arrives, there will be a campfire in the backyard, and Archie will have a bottle of whisky and makings for s’mores.

Feel free to run into him at any point during the day. Housemates can catch him in the morning and late at night as well as at dinner.]

Comments

[herotypical]

"...Oh?"

She coaxed him closer to his something to tell. Shredding frayed rag ends with her fingertips.

[simplestgift]

"Buffy?"

[herotypical]

"...Archie?"

[simplestgift]

"Don't punish the rag for it."

[herotypical]

"This...something? It's a punishable offence?"

[simplestgift]

He reaches for her hands to stop her by holding them. "Not especially, no. There's no one to blame."

[herotypical]

Just watch. She'll try and find someone to blame. But Buffy's fingers lighten and relax under his. The rag drops. Her thumbs fold over his thumbs.

[simplestgift]

"There was a storm at sea. I was unlucky."

1/??

[herotypical]

"We had a bit of a..."

[herotypical]

No. Wait. This was textbook beating around the bush. But why? Why be cagey about a storm?

[herotypical]

Unless...

Unlucky.

done.

[herotypical]

"A-Archie?"

Steel and sparks and sunlight seem to all evacuate from her voice in one fell crack.

[simplestgift]

"Sh-sh. I'm all right now. It didn't hurt."

His composure is briefly but intensely threatened when he remembers It doesn't hurt, Horatio, don't let them say it hurts. He blinks rapidly, then remembers to breathe. He's fine.

[herotypical]

Silently, she tugged on his hands. This might have the unfortunate side-effect of hauling him hard against the bartop but she seemed not to notice. She was far more interested in counting his fingers. First one hand -- thumb, index, middle, ring, pinky -- and then the other.

She counted aloud; each number was a tight, sad breath.

[simplestgift]

He doesn't resist, even spreading his fingers a little for her convenience, waiting for her to speak.

[herotypical]

"Ten," she sighed. "Ten fingers. Two hands. Two arms. Shoulders." She glanced at his face. "Eyes, nose, mouth. I think I see both your ears.

Take off your boots."

[simplestgift]

A slight laugh, and a smile. "You wish to clear the room, do you?"

[herotypical]

"...If I have to," Buffy said in a tone that would brook no argument. "Off with them. Now. I wanna make sure you have each and every one."

[simplestgift]

Feeling ridiculous but unwilling to resist anything that would make her feel better, he unbuckles his garters, pulls off his shoes and stockings, and rests his bare feet on the counter for her inspection.

"Ten toes, reporting for duty."

[herotypical]

Her fingers twitched -- as if she very much wanted to tick off each digit by hand. But Buffy held her borders and simply touched the air above each one and...

"H-how'd it happen?"

Oh. Crap. No no no no no. Buffy shook her head. "Forget I asked that. Can I just..." She vaulted over the bar in one fluid movement. "Can I just hug you instead?"

[simplestgift]

With a mock look of long-suffering, he opens his arms.

[herotypical]

And so the diminutive Slayer did her best to catch the bare-footed Lieutenant in a tight, rib-cracking bear hug. Except her own ribs were bruised and the sudden shocking reminder of that pain brought her breath up short. Breath that had been vaguely troubled and panicked ever since she'd followed his implication.

"And you came back...and you'd just been...and I didn't even...oh, God," She whispered fiercely against his ear. "I'm so sorry."

[simplestgift]

The hug weakens his resolute light-heartedness, and he gives in, sinking into the hug with a sigh. "I didn't tell anyone till a week in. Didn't want Horatio to find out."

[herotypical]

"So if you're telling someone now...?"

Did he find out?

[simplestgift]

"He knows."