simplestgift | One Bell: [Written/Accidental Video] No Gallows Can Touch Me

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One Bell: [Written/Accidental Video] No Gallows Can Touch Me

[Written in a shaky hand]

I don't know if anyone is really out there. I seem to be caught up in a tree. In my defence, the tree looks worse than I do. I think I am winning. However, it is very cold and windy up here, and I can't seem to make it down on my own. I've heard about safe falling, but the only guideline we have about falling in the navy is "don't do it." If anyone can see this, then, I need your help. In the meantime, I'll keep writing, if you don't mind. It's just about the only way to keep moving up here.

I am Lieutenant Kennedy aboard His Majesty's Ship the Renown. If you'll believe it, that used to mean something. You may call me Kennedy (with or without the "mister"), or, since I suppose it makes no difference here, just Archie. I've answered to both. While I am sure you are dying to hear the endlessly dull story of my life and death, my literary skills are limited by my half-frozen fingers and my ability to manipulate this infernal book. Maybe later.

I can only hope this place has a decent glass of whiskey somewhere. I have a headache. Probably a permanent one. Not to mention I'm aching in body parts I actually did not have before. I suppose I should be glad to be alive again. Maybe that will come later.

Damned wings. I've no idea what to do with mys

[Accidental video: a flying shot of, well, mostly a grey-and-white blur as the book falls from the tree. A man's fingertips, nearly blue with cold, pass just in front. There's a dismayed shout and the sound of tearing cloth as the journal thumps to the ground, lying open. Barely visible in one corner is a very cold new feather, barely hanging on to a tree branch far above the ground. His pants seem to be caught and tearing. For a moment, he freezes with his arms around the branch, breathing heavily. Seconds later, he chuckles as if he just got a joke. He can barely be heard when he speaks.]

Looks like I d-didn't escape a hanging after all, H-Horatio.

[After a few more wheezing, half-hysterical chuckles, he goes very quiet.

The rest of the shot is of a location just outside the west side of town, north of the river.]

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[Archie's eyes drift shut. He mumbles.] Most likely.

[You get a light punch in the shoulder.]

You're not cozy by the fire yet, buddy. [He leans down to get a look at the fall.] I figure the best way down is for me to jump. I'll have to carry you bridal style, but you so much as suggest it's more than a rescue, you'll wish you fell, capiche? I'm only into babes.

[Kennedy has no idea what half those words mean, but frankly, he grew up on a ship and therefore has no personal bubble, so he's not going to comment or complain.]

Mright. You look like Cleveland.

I've been to Cleveland. It sucks.

[Which is why he's none too gentle as he reaches over to grab Archie and get a good hold of him for the jump. Now is your time for any last objections.]

[Archie winces a little as he's man-handled, but relaxes back to drowsing once Jack has a proper hold on him. He remembers being carried a bit like this once before, sort of. Except it was rain back then instead of wind. It's the only part of it he remembers for certain, since it was the only thing keeping him from passing out completely.]

[Once he's sure he has a good hold of Archie, Jack eases towards the edge... and scoots himself off. One advantage of it being the winter is that there's a clear view of the ground below, so this trip doesn't involve any annoying branches getting in the way. As the ground nears, Jack begins to realize this was further down than he thought.

He lands on the ground with a rather painful crunch that causes him to fall forward. It won't be much more than a tumble for Archie, but Jack is over here dealing with some broken bones. Sure, they'll heal fast, but it won't stop the string of obscenities that ensue.]

Fuck! Fuck! Shit! Dammit! Ow! [Once he rolls over onto his back, he sits up and stretches his legs out, quite painfully, and lets the bones snap back into place. Why does this always happen to him?]

[Archie--by the time he finishes spitting out his mouthful of snow, at least--finds himself barely holding his head out of the snow and staring at Jack in a pretty horrified manner. Just staring. Because this is a special kind of strange. There's the strange that has absolutely no human resemblance that is a little easier to bear. But the strange that starts out as deceivingly normal? His brain is telling him to disregard it altogether, but DAMN. He speaks suddenly.]

That's right. I'm dead. This must be part of it.

[Yeah, that hurt. But you know what? He's getting to his feet, despite his legs having got bloodied up from the fall. His pants are stained, but he seems no worse for wear.]

Believe me, we're not dead. I've seen hell. It ain't cold. [He offers a hand up to Archie.]

[Archie stares at the offered hand for a moment, then takes it gingerly, as if afraid to hurt him.]

You m-must tell me all about it sometime. [He thinks he's being facetious.]

Probably one you've heard before.

[It's an old fable after all. Once Archie is on his feet, Jack tosses that jacket around him and takes the lead, lighting up a cigarette as he does. As he starts walking towards town, he holds a single smoke up between his finger.]

You smoke?

[Anything to keep warm. Archie reaches for the cigarette. Little does he know what ELSE people put into cigarettes a couple hundred years into the future.]

[Fortunately he doesn't have any magic to light up the cigarette. Just a lighter. From the 21st century. No big.]

Despite what my own rescuer, hot and smoking as she was, thought the other day - walking all the way to the store barefoot in the snow isn't exactly pleasant, even for me. [He points ahead to a nearby community building.] So take a load off there. I'll fetch the essentials.

Thank you. [Archie takes a quick drag from the cigarette. It gets as far as the back of his tongue before he exhales sharply, coughs a few times, and squints suspiciously at the little thing in grotesque wonder.]

What the hell is in this?

[Real grateful.]

Shitty, isn't it? They made 'em better fifty, hundred years ago.

[But hell, he's addicted, and you take what you can get.]

[He takes another shallow drag solely for the benefit of the heat, slowly, as he remembers what the book said about people being from different times. Then, he asks an unusual question. Just an unusual one, for him. He's asked strange ones, like "Why are we lying in the back of the alley behind the furniture shop with our shoes off?" but this one just sounds awkward coming out of his mouth.]

What year are you from, then?

Twenty-ten. [He glances back. Judging by the original message, he's guessing it's quite a bit earlier.] What about you?

...[He takes a bit to translate that into an actual year he can comprehend. A little over two centuries. That's a long time.

Eventually, he registers the fact that his look of shock must be a little odd, and clears his throat, wiping the expression off his face.]

Eighteen hundred and two, actually. Sound a bit backwards?

It sounded as backwards then as it does now.

[Mull on that one a bit, Archie. By now they're in front of that community building. Jack lets himself in. Feel free to do the same, he isn't going to hold the door open for you or anything.]

[Archie waits until Jack can't see his face to roll his eyes. He does let himself in, letting the door close behind him and letting his eyes close as he feels the wave of heat crash into him. Where does that sort of heat come from? The place is uncomfortably foreign, and after standing still for a moment, he sits himself down on the first step of the stairs, waiting to feel his feet again.]

Damn.

[He could SENSE that. Only not really. Once Archie is seated, Jack is already heading back to the door.]

Stay put. I'll grab you some warm clothes. After that, you're on your own. [Sorry Archie. Maybe if you were a hot babe and he had a chance at scoring with you, he'd go all the way. But this is about the extent he's willing to go to have you in his debt.]

[Actually Archie's pretty grateful about being left alone. It's not that he doesn't appreciate the help, but he doesn't like having to be helped, and any further assistance would only be patronizing. He's been independent since the age of eleven, after all.]

Thank you, sir. [He gives a slight, sincere nod.]

Call me Jack.

[With that, he's out again.

Some time later, a half hour at the most, the door will bust open and Jack will be coming back in from the cold. He's got a bundle of clothes (and a pair of boots) under his arm. They're certainly not Archie's uniform, he'll have to go find those on his own time. But they're more or less his size and appropriate for the weather.]

That should get you started. Oh, here. [He pulls out a pack of beef jerky from his pocket and tosses it over.] Something to snack on until you find something real to eat.

Thank you. [Tight smile. Really, the fare is about what he's used to. He has a bit of a hassle getting the packet of jerky open, but eventually works it out, strips off the plastic, sticks the meet between his teeth, and sucks on it as he pulls the shirt on. It's a sweater, definitely not something he is used to, but his brain registers the practicality of such an item. Gathering the rest of the clothing, he gets up to try to find a safe place to change his pants. He's not doing it in front of someone who looks like Cleveland.]

Thank me later.

[He points towards the hallway.]

Chances are there's an empty room down there you can sleep in. If not, there's always the seven floors above. You got a name?

[Now that he's warming up and his brain is turning back on, Archie is not greatly trusting of this man. He doesn't like giving his name to someone like this. Lying about it won't make a difference, though, since in a small town they're bound to run into each other again. Of course he would run into a shifty person first thing, given his luck. And now he owes him a debt of gratitude, and this Jack, whose name alone does not give him to trust, has made it clear that he intends that debt to be paid. What has he gotten himself into?]

Kennedy. That is my name, Jack.

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originaljackass - 2011-01-06 04:42 (UTC) - Expand

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