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]

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

Did he find out?

[simplestgift]

"He knows."

[herotypical]

She stepped back -- holding onto his arms and searching his eyes. Hers were wet, yes. But nothing spilled over. The tears were kept comfortably captive.

"It's...it's weird." Buffy blurted. "Because it sucks. Oh my God, does it ever suck. Except -- you're here." She squeezed her fingers around his upper arms. "So it's like feeling the grief and the miracle all at once."

[simplestgift]

That gives him pause, because he should be used to being mourned and welcomed at the same time by now.

"I...well. No need for grief. I'm here, large as life." He returns the grip on her upper arms with a little squeeze.

[herotypical]

"D-do you know what they took? 'Cause Jack didn't know until he...well -- it's not always obvious, I guess. The loss."

[simplestgift]

He looks slightly less comfortable. "Yes." He takes a sudden interest in the hem or cuff of her sleeve. "I don't quite know how to explain it so it makes sense."

[herotypical]

Her voice jumped into action. "You don't have to tell me. It's a very, uhm, personal thing." Jack hadn't told her until he'd been well over halfway to the time the penalty would be able to be removed.

"And not a thing I have to know if you don't want me to know."

[simplestgift]

"It...could be. I'd hate for you to find out the way Elizabeth found out."

[herotypical]

"What...what do you mean?"

Gently, Buffy began leading him by the arm. The bar's back room. The door wasn't so far off.

[simplestgift]

Grateful, he stands up and follows her, glancing behind at the crowd in the bar.

[herotypical]

"...None of us are strangers to public displays of -- of anything, I don't think. They'd understand. But..."

But she knew she'd want a closed door, if the shoes were reversed.

[simplestgift]

And when the door does close, he lets out a huff of breath.

"I have fits."

[herotypical]

"Fits," she repeated.

Buffy drew two casks -- their contents sloshing in their wooden prisons -- next to each other. Seats, of a sort. "Fits of...?"

[simplestgift]

He sits, shaking very slightly. "Convulsions. I used to have them when..." He bites down on the rest of the sentence. "They were gone for good and they've come back."

[herotypical]

Convulsions? Buffy's brow furrowed. Picking her way through the lingo was a bit of a challenge. It could mean anything, right? But from the sounds of it, Archie was talking about gaining something, rather than losing it.

Unless the thing lost was...

"S-sorry. Bear with me. trying to understand this. Are you talking about, like, seizures?"

Healing. Unless the thing lost was healing.

[simplestgift]

A nervous nod.

[herotypical]

"I never knew you had..."

Buffy shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Knowing or not knowing doesn't matter. Knowing now, though? Much more...mattery.

Are they often?"

[simplestgift]

"It depends. Something has to happen first, like pulling a trigger."

[herotypical]

"H-how can I avoid it?"

I don't want to pull your trigger.

[simplestgift]

"I don't think you have anything to worry about."

[herotypical]

"...That's the thing the Hollywood hero says right before there's a whole lot of something to worry about."

[simplestgift]

"Buffy, the...well. Simpson caused them, before. Grell causes them. As I said, I don't think you have anything to worry about."

[herotypical]

"Until one of these days a Shift turns me into an evil psychobitch oh wait that just happened..."

Buffy breathed out. Medical problems were never a thing she handled with grace. They worried her. She'd crumbled under the weight of not being able to help her mother with her own non-supernatural condition.

And they scared her because she could never fix them. There were no spells to do or bad guys to pummel and she reached for Archie's hand once again.

"If Bones was still..."

[simplestgift]

"Three more months." He takes her hand with a sigh. "It's more specific than that, Buffy. I was chased by your vampire in the woods and never had a fit from it. Dunno if I can explain it."

[herotypical]

Her eyes widened.

"Drusilla chased you?"

Of course, she wouldn't have had a chance to hear about this until now. Shifts and missions and her own efforts against the vamp.