William Bush

...did you die, William?

From:

[Sent hours later--]

I have now but it was expected do not be alarmed.

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I'm not alarmed. I might be annoyed, depending how it happened. Shall I come over?

Edited Date: 2014-04-08 06:06 pm (UTC)

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[Long, reluctant pause.]

If you are not otherwise engaged.

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I'm never too engaged for you, sweetheart. Well, except when I am, but that isn't today. Be there in half an hour.

[The first thing she does is make up a batch of what she already thinks of as Magic Soup: it's not identical to the version Cain made her. Iris takes an educated guess that Captain Bush's tolerance for hot chillies will be lower than hers and Cain's, and reduces them sharply, making up some of the warmth with pulped fresh ginger, but it's essentially the same: rich, light, hot, strong and still perversely gentle.

Iris, too, is gentle; she sits lightly at his side and strokes his face, and keeps her voice pitched carefully low.]

I brought some soup, sweetheart; Cain made me this when I were last down with the death and I swear it's the best I ever 'ad. Will you tell me what 'appened, now?

Edited Date: 2014-04-08 07:13 pm (UTC)

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[He relaxes into her touch for a long while before he can touch the soup, and makes a start of the soup before he can bring himself to answer.]

There was ... A request made of me.

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[She's not only calm, she's projecting calm, coolness and comfort with every synapse in her mind right now. It hurts to see her Captain, the powerful, lusty man she's grown to love dearly, laid low; he bears it with no more grace than Iris does herself, and that's never much.

So she only raises an eyebrow at his very inadequate explanation.]

Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this story, love?

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It may be you'll think it a bit foolhardy to trade a life for another, even if one comes back.

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When we 'ad that flood in February after the Valentines, I got Victor's claws out of it. We went in the CES and 'e chased me up a tree like a dog after a cat. I dropped onto 'im and tore 'is throat out - I'd also got a real bloodthirst, off that Roderick, I think.

It were a long drop out of that tree and we didn't either of us survive it. I just managed to type a message before I went. Got 'im back 'is healing power so we'd only one of us go through it.

...That's a long way of saying I reckon it's your life to trade, my darling. But I'm curious, all the same.

Edited Date: 2014-04-08 09:28 pm (UTC)

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There was a way that someone could die and restore a half dead man to real life. Not simply a Risen death.

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The what now?

[For an instant, Iris is just gently puzzled; then the word Risen sinks in. She doesn't move, the touch of her hand doesn't change, but her mind snaps abruptly shut like an iron portcullis, and when she speaks again her voice is carefully neutral.]

'Im again.

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He asked. I chose to do it.

I've known a while now he couldn't go on that way. It was making him mad.

I am sorry, Iris-- you were right, it wasn't a story that'd please you.

[He is apologetic, but not ashamed. As he told Zane, he can regret parts of his duty and still know they must be done.]

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[She thought she couldn't be any more angry at the Emperor; and now this. Iris is having to work hard not to clench her teeth or raise her voice; she breathes deeply, holding her voice carefully steady.]

Don't you be sorry, love. I meant what I said; it's yours to choose, no matter what I feel.

[She lets the breath out audibly.]

...well no, I'm not 'appy, but it's still for you to choose. So 'e's alive now, is 'e? Did 'e think to ask Babs to do that for 'im, at all?

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I am sure he did think of it. But he chose this way. I might have done myself if I were inclined.

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[She takes another deep breath, and this time she holds it for an improbable length of time before letting it slowly out. This time the dark shoals of anger recede palpably, her body relaxes and she leans in to kiss Bush on the forehead.]

I still love 'im too, somewhere under 'ow much I want to kick 'is teeth in right now. You're a better man than I am, William; it's going to take me a good long time to find any forgiving in me for this stunt.

Don't fret. I'll get there. Till then I'll keep a lid on it.

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I've had cause to learn a great deal about myself these past weeks. It isn't selfless, not at all, for me to do this. Zane wanted it too--I wasn't quite convinced until I knew that.

I love'm so, Iris, I adore them. I couldn't refuse when it's such a little thing. A few days laid up, for a life without the creeping apathy of being Risen. That's such a little thing.

I tried to retreat to my duty, after what happened, only I found I didn't know what it was anymore. And -- that I'd have to trust again, to be happy.

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[It's not been so long since Iris was laid up with her own Emperor-spawned death toll; this, she suspects, will be hurting all over in the same elusively systemic way the nanite damage did. She remembers very clearly how much touch was soothing, how much became hard to bear, and she folds herself against him with infinite, gentle care.]

Aye. I do too. I'm just not the romantic you are, sweet William.

I'm angry that 'e chose this way to do it. It's poetic, with its sacrifice and death. Asking the Admiral wouldn't've been; but it still would've worked. It's not fair on Ned or on you and it's that selfishness I despair of: that 'e even felt entitled to ask.

...And I'd've volunteered too. Even now, I reckon.

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It ain't only that. He is selfish-- he wouldn't be all he is if he weren't too selfish for death itself. That is part of it. But the other part-- he don't trust the Admiral. I don't trust the Admiral, I don't like how easy he can turn a man into something else.

My missing leg-- I could have had it grown back in a moment. The admiral could have done, Miss Bennett could have done it. I think it still vexes Mister Megamind that I didn't allow him to make a more complete false leg, with electricity and the look of skin and who knows what. But I understand metal, Iris. I understand joints and levers and springs. I trust metal.

And he understands more than I do, but he doesn't understand everything. And he doesn't trust the Admiral. He wants something more real to him, I think.

[He moves weakly, embracing her against him. She is cool, against the warmth of a body trapped under its quilts, and her touch is grateful. He leans against her with a sigh, the pain not so bad when he stops moving-- the pressure just before the point of overwhelming.]

Edited Date: 2014-04-10 08:02 pm (UTC)

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[He needs to understand that people are real to him, thinks Iris savagely, but she doesn't speak the thought. Her anger is a hot coal in her chest, but she's had long practise at keeping such things insulated from her other feelings, and nothing but her tender affection is permitted to leak through.]

There's summat in that. I do trust the Admiral. I always 'ave, from the moment I stepped aboard and touched this beautiful living ship - felt 'er heart wrapped around us. I can't doubt her intent, her love for us, any more than I can me own ship. I forget that's not as real to everyone else. Babs doesn't trust 'im either.

[She laughs, very softly, nearly motionless.]

Our Megamind doesn't get enough chances to show off, poor love. Did I tell you we're building robotic 'orses? I've 'ad a yen for 'orses since that Lakeside port. Before your time.

[Iris' hard feelings are far from gone, but she's not willing to tax her friend with them any further. None of them are his to carry. Instead, she'll spin tales about horses and ports past, or she'll hold him silently and breathe affection into his tired bones until he sleeps. Whichever seems right.]

Edited Date: 2014-04-10 11:49 pm (UTC)

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I don't have much experience with horses. I'm sure I won't know the difference.

I trust you, Iris. Not this ship, but I trust you.

Will you tell me about the lakeside port? [Likely he'll be in a fitful sleep before she's gone far. ]

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Very good.

[if Horatio told Bush that he was going to stay alone in his room for several days, he would expect Bush to honour his desire to do so. They are, however, very different men.]

I will drop by this evening to see you.

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That is not necessary Lieutenant.

[Damn damn damn.]

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Of course it is not necessary, but we are friends and I enjoy your company, so I shall come nevertheless.

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[No, he's too tired and in too much pain to try to cleverly divert him. He sags back into bed and shuts his eyes and hopes it blows over.]

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[It doesn't blow over. Horatio isn't worried about Bush, exactly. Worry suggests having a certain amount of doubt, regarding what is going to happen. Horatio is in fact, certain, of certain things. Thing one: he is able to write to Horatio, and so presumably not in need of immediate rescue. Thing two: He is not in a bad enough way to need to request help. Rather, whatever mistake or injury has been done, he is attempting to hide. Thing three: he is attempting to hide. He made contact through text, attempted, briefly, to dissuade Horatio from visiting, and means to go unseen for several days.

It is in fact, entirely possible that the writer of the message was not even William Bush.

Horatio arrives at his cabin in the early evening. Dressed as close as he can manage to neatly. His sword securely at his hip.

He knocks.]

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[Bush summons up the best approximation of his quarterdeck rasp, authoritarian and unbending.]

Come in!

[That is where any deception ends. He is bed ridden, his hair loose because his queue aggravated his headache-- pale, pained, weak. He is, in short, suffering the death toll and he hurts down to the tips of his fingernails.]

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[Horatio lets himself in, and-- He stops only momentarily, at the sight of Bush. When he closes the door behind him, there's a carefully controlled formality to his mannerisms.]

What happened?

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It is a bit difficult to explain. It wasn't-- unexpected.

It is--

Well, I--

[He struggles, both with fatigue and explaining this.]

Well I have died but it is all right. It has given new life to somebody else and I will be on my feet in a bit.

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As explanations go, Mister Bush, I find that quite insufficient.

[His tone remains clipped. Crisp and authoritarian and calm. Bush might technically outrank him here, but Bush is a wreck right now, and has been pretty open about his discomfort in ordering Horatio around. So Horatio will be easy, for the moment, and let himself steal a little of his future self's authority.]

In essence, all you have told me is that you have been gravely injured, and you do not wish me to act on it. Both of those things I had already surmised, and I still would know exactly what befell you and who is responsible.

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[Despite it all, Bush cannot help smiling a little fondly. The young man can't know precisely what he's doing, surely-- but if he closed his eyes he might be back in France, recovering from the loss of his leg, with his captain looking after him. He has tried not to put the Lieutenant into a position of artificial command but he's so tired and it is so comforting.]

You will know from the breach, Lieutenant, that the Emperor is not entirely alive. He is the Risen Dead and like them ones we saw he is inclined to be distant and unfeeling if he does not pay attention every moment. Very given to go wandering.

There's a man aboard who can bring the dead back to life, so long as another'll die in their place.

And the Emperor asked me if I would be that one. And I said I would.

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[The answer forces Horatio to be quiet for a moment, to think about it.]

So you thought you'd trade some temporary suffering for a permanent solution to an obstacle to his graduation.

[It makes sense. It also makes him really mad.]

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Yes. He is my friend and he could not go on like he was. [Bush's eyes plead for understanding.]

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It's perfectly logical. You were confident you would recover, and willing to take the injury for him.

[Horatio understands. He's just STILL MAD.]

And there is no one to be blamed for it. Not he, for doing what he is here to do, nor you for doing your duty. It is logical, and in your place I'd have done the same thing exactly.

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Thank you, s-- Lieutenant.

[And he had managed to break himself of the habit. Ah well.]

I am sorry to have given you a turn. I didn't want to trouble you-- but I am glad to see you. It's a comfort. The toll is worse this time than it was the others.

From:

hearrrtofgold

Let me know if you need anything, all right?

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In a few days I would be very glad of a stiff drink thank you.< /

From:

hearrrtofgold

Are you sure you're all right in the meantime?

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