simplestgift | Thirty-One Bells: [Action/Written]

[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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"It's not the sort of thing one should learn accidentally."

Like Horatio did.

"No. And I weren't going to spill it. How are you plannin' on doing it?"

"Buffy at work, surrounded by drinkable things. Jilly at home, in comfort."

And Amelia, who has looked after him so fiercely whether he wanted it or not, deserves to know as well.

Jack nods. Yes. It can never be uncomfortable around Jilly, really, and Buffy could always comfort a man with drinks. "It'll be alright. You'll see, lad."

"I know." A swallow. "Though I'd give anything for this not to have happened at all."

That bit of healing was the worst possible thing the death could have taken from him.

"Just focus on the bright bits, eh? You're back now. You've got somethin' less than four months to get through. Not so bad, eh?"

A bitter laugh. "I meant it, Jack. I'd rather anything else happen, or I would've. But it isn't as bad as I thought it would be."

"What's the worst that could happen now, mate?"

"Everyone learns about it?"

"...Why's that the worst thing again?"

"...Jack. Not everyone is as open-minded as you are."

"I know my brain's all special-like, but I think I'm hardly an exception, boyo."

"You should've heard what the men said about them when I was a mid."

"And the men would've been saying much less with their tongues spit on my sword."

"It's not...simply about what they said, or didn't say. It was everything. How clear it was how much of a disgrace I was."

It's strange, speaking about this so freely to Jack, but not completely uncomfortable. A relief, somehow, because he used to think Jack would laugh at him for this.

All Jack was thinking about was how very painful it was to be a disgrace to those whom you wanted to hold you in high esteem. Staunchly:

"You've more than redeemed any disgraceful things here. You're a sterling member of the community, you! Stand-up sort of do-gooding gooder."

"...In prison, I got to hear whole lists of why everyone should escape without me. Doesn't matter then, if you've done anything good, if everyone knows you nearly got everyone killed having a fit during a cutting-out. Then I come here and everyone tells me I'm not responsible, and I don't know what to think."

The man who falls behind is left behind. It seemed that more than just pirates kept to the Code after all.

"As long as you're bein' just to yourself, I don't see what business it is of anyone else's."

"I'm first lieutenant aboard a ship that barely has a crew at all, Jack. And some have gone home. If they have a reason not to trust me..."

"No crew at all."

It was hard enough to sign on a competent crew at the best of times. Jack couldn't imagine trying to gather one for a ship like the Britannia in a place like Luceti. He didn't envy the navy men that mission.

"They don't all trust Horatio. It's why he's kept me as first lieutenant. To avoid becoming too like the Navy. It's what they're afraid of, I think. And if I'm compromised, it's all done for."

"But you're not, lad. Compromised. Surely not!"

"What else would you call it?"

"I've sailed with half-blind mutes and one-legged men. You adapt. It doesn't count you out of sailing. Not for four months!"

"If it comes from an injury, it's one thing. You learn, you adapt, but when it's invisible and you can't bloody shake it off...!"

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