RocketMan XXIX
Through Times Series
Through Time: Alopeki
(1/2)Date: Thu, 24 Jul 1997 18:35:57 -0700
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to the creative genious of CC and
Vince Gil- oh sorry, just CC.
Rating: This is gory somewhat-CHARACTER DEATH- PAST LIFE- PG13.
Author Notes: This is the first start of a past lives treck through M&S
past. Very MSR but always finding out when it's too late. Character
death in all, and some pretty explicit close to sex stuff in the later
stories. I'm not much for NC-17 at all because well, they're not
married, but when they are, I'm all for it. So . . . there will be a bit
of that. And this is very against all my beliefs, pretty much. I don't
at all believe in past lives, but it'd be fun to write about, so I did.
And so, here is part one of story one.
Alopeki (1/2)
430 B.C.
Sparta, Laconia of Peloponnesian League of Greece
Fox of Pylos led his horse down the rocky slope of the mountains that
protected his beloved city on three sides, his eyes watching for
potholes that might dislodge him.
A ward of the state since birth, Fox had been separated from his mother
at seven to enter military training with fifteen other boys. In the
thirteen years since he had been without her, he had proved himself to
be the brightest and the bravest, earning him the captaincy of his
company. The others obeyed his commands without question, because that
was how they were raised, and that was how it was. They took any
punishment and delighted in hard menial labor. They would endure, they
would survive, they were tough and no nonsense. They were Spartans.
"Alopeki!" shouted one of his men. Fox, or Alopeki in Greek, turned to
see his friend Isaac, pointing to the farm they had come to visit in
order to severely punish some uprisings of the slaves.
"I see it Isaac!" he called back, correcting his path to go around a
large boulder in the way. In his company, he was leader, but Isaac was
point man, meaning he forged the path and he was the first cut down in
an ambush. But all the cadets were ready to give their life for Sparta,
it was an honor. Everything else was repressed - memories, feelings,
fear, pain, hurt. They were wonder men, coldly effecient and like
robots.
The helot farm they were going to was leading some rebellions of some of
the other slaves. Their leader was a strange man by the name of Drakon,
or dragon, who was rumored to take in children that were orphans. To
Fox, this was incredibly stupid, especially for a helot slave. Children
meant more mouths to feed, and more food needed, and more of everything
else to go wrong. Usually after two, most helots abandoned thier
unwanted children in deep caverns in the mountains, especially girls,
becasue they were made to stay in the household. Boys were taken at
seven to serve in the military. And Drakon was leading a revolt against
his msater that owned the land, allowing even some of the slaves to go
free. Slaves that escaped to Sparta became merchants and businessmen,
because real citizens were restricted to agriculture. These escaped
slaves were called perioeci, and it was usually Fox's company that was
sent to find them, or to crush a rebellion.
Both of Drakon's boys were in the military schools, but he had two
daughters at home, Meli and Pur. Foolish man, keeping daughters around.
He was asking for what was coming to him. Fox hoped there would be
resistance, then he would get to fight.
Fox led his men down the steep hill and then to the trail that ran
toward the dilipidating cottage, taking point and giving Isaac a break.
But when they got closer, he found he could not move from his spot, and
wouldn't have had the horse not taken reign and gone on down. For there
stood outside the cottage the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in
his life. Her hair was dark and rich, like all Greeks, but so black it
reminded him of space where the gods dwelled. And her eyes were the
stars, so bright and shining that he felt blinded by them. Which
daughter was this, Meli or Pur? Surely not Meli, whose name meant honey.
For this woman gave no hint of being sugary sweet and oozing, but more
like the fire that Pur meant, brimstone and Tartarus all rolled into a
female shape of pure energy. He could see the cold fire of the stars in
her eyes, so she must be Pur.
He stopped his horse and gave her a curt nod, wishing his men were
somewhere else so that he could properly talk to her. He was entranced.
"What do you want?" she asked, in a haughty tone and he knew it was Pur.
"Is Drakon here?" he said, knowing that women ran the households in
Sparta and he'd have to deal with her if he ever hoped to see Drakon.
She spoke with him for quite some time until she seemed satisfied that
he and his men were all right. Fox felt sick for having to betray that,
so he sent Isaac with the rest of the men to capture Drakon.
When they were alone, she gave him a small smile and he knew he had met
her before.
end of part 1
adios
RocketMan
comments?
All the information about Sparta and the way of life there is correct.
The three casts of society were the Spartans, or citizens, the helots,
or slaves, and the perioeci, the now free slaves. Tartarus was a place
that most people believed in and is pretty much like Hell today. Even
those that did not believe in gods, believed in Tartarus and the
afterlife.
If you're interested in more, just email me and I'll go off.
Notes: I just read another past life story called "Avicia" and I have to
say that it was very good. But this is not that. I'm trying very hard
not to incorporate any of those issues, like the Circle of Truth she
mentions, etc. That isn't what this is about. It's really just ordianry
people.
All else can be found in part one.
Please distribute with part one.
Alopeki (2/2)
When they were alone, she gave him a small smile and he knew he had met
her before, somewhere. How could he miss her beautiful eyes?
"You may think me mad, but I know I have met you before, somehow. Talked
with you before, laughed with you before . . . made love with you
before."
She gasped and moved to slap him, but he caught her wrist and growled,
just as a fox would, his namesake.
"Alopeki!" she hissed, her eyes wide and afraid.
Startled that she should know his name, he let go and stepped back.
>From her grey drab dress she produced a small carved fox and placed itin his hand. He looked to it,
noticing the particularly intricate detail
on the eyes. They seemed to be her eyes.
"How - how did you know my name?" he said, looking around warily for
traps.
Her eyes darkened, flickering like when water is poured over a camp
fire. "I had a dream, but it's stupid and childish. Never mind." she
said and reached to take the fox back.
He pulled his hand away and shook his head. "No, it's not. I believe the
gods give us dreams to communicate out future to us. What did you
dream?"
She looked at him like he had been spending too much time in Athens,
listening to the crazy rhetoric of philosophers with mush for brains.
But she told him the dream anyway.
In her face he saw a thousand different things, emotions that never came
out in him, that he never allowed out.
"I dreamed I was a hundred people and you were there as a fox, with me
always. Then something happened and you changed and shrunk and became a
little wooden carving. When I woke up this morning I had it in my hand."
Fox looked once again to the carved animal and then back to her.
"What does it mean?" she asked, clearly upset by the reality her dream
was turning into, apparition made flesh before her eyes.
He shrugged and stroked the niches that had been made to make it look
like fur. It was rather small for such detail but it also seemed
extraordinary, not of his or her world.
"Were we destined by the Fates to meet? Is that what the dream was?" she
whispered, almost not able to beleive it.
Suddenly he leaned forward and kissed her, dropping the fox in the dirt
and grabbing her waist. They parted flushed and Fox got the suspicion
that she had been set up to do this, to lure him to his death, to trap
him and his men. As soon as he thought of this, he let go of her and
narrowed his eyes.
She looked at him, confused, wondering why he had dropped her like a
piece of hot coal. At the look on his face, a storm raged across hers.
"What is this?" she hissed and scooped up the fox from the dirt. "You're
no different are you? Just a cold hard little man."
She ran off, back to the woods circling her house and he felt like the
dirt the fox had dropped to, no better than any of the other soldiers
who responded to love with harsh cruelty.
Why had he done that? Why kiss her, a helot slave, when he was a true
Spartan? Why pull away and think evil of her when she had so blindly
trusted him? He only knew one thing for sure, she would never speak to
him again. She was the most beautiful soul he had ever met, and he had
just butchered whatever they might habe had.
He heard Isaac shout and the sudden clashing of swords, and he jumped
on his horse and charged into the forest.
The helots had formed a small army, leading them was Drakon, the one
they'd come to take anyway.
With the fire of self hate coursing through him he fought wildly and
uncontrolled, like a demon possessed man, or a heartbroken lover.
His battle mask firmly in place he began swinging his sword around,
loping off heads and crushing backs.
So when the fatal blow struck, he barely noticed, but instead fell from
his horse to the ground with his charcteristic growl, coming out as a
moan.
His killer cried out and dropped from the horse, coming to his side, he
imagined to finish the deed.
He grabbed his dagger with his last bit of strength and held it ready.
If he would die, he would take one of them down with him.
The mask came off and it was no enemy, but her. Pur. The beautiful woman
who had dreamed of him had killed him. She was sobbing he saw and his
dagger fell from his fingers, to the rocks. She bent and touched his
lips, so that he tasted salt and dirt and blood and he gave her an
ironic smile.
"Alopeki, dear fox. I am sorry," she sobbed and cradled his head. He
sought her hand and instead of finding fingers he got thje wooden fox,
thrust sharply into his grip. "I will always be with you." she whispered
and he squeezed it tightly until blood was drawn. She placed her cheek
to his, tears falling silently, and took the dagger from the rocks.
Then, even as he tooks his last breaths, she plunged it into her breast,
eyes widening and sparking. He knew she was dead.
She collapsed over him, the hilt driving further, making her spasm.
He shuddered and moved his head until his lips were at her ear. With his
last strength he moaned, "With you always."
And then he too, slipped into darkness.
End.
Title: Through Time II: Pompeii (1/2)
Date: Thu, 24 Jul 1997 18:40:55 -0700
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]
Disclaimer: The characters of Mulder and Scully belong to CC, but the
past lives are mine.
Warning: Character Death, MSR, to people with sensitive stomachs I don't
reccomend it. And Gerry, I promise to write one where they don't die.
=-)
Pompeii (1/2)
A.D. 79
Pompeii, Italy
Less than a mile from the towering Mount Vesuvius lay the oval shaped
city of Pompeii, known for fishing, perfume, and quality of life.
Colorful tile depicted scenes from everyday life: mothers bathing their
children, fathers returning home from work, dogs keeping guard over
their houses. The wealthy had villas built along the Mediterranean
shore, consisting of the master's house and gardens and the farmer's
house with barns, stables, orchards, and fields. Rooms inside were
grouped around the center atrium, becoming a place for games, sunbathing
and greeting guests.
The Villa of Paulo was exactly this and he took great pride in providing
a good home for his family. His wife Michal was, to him, the most
beautiful woman he had ever seen and she was intelligent, helping him
run his glass blowing business. Michal's dark reddish brown hair was
pulled back tightly, with tiny ringlets framing her face as was the
style. Her brown eyes were pale enough to look golden in the light; he
could not tell where her eyes left off and the sun began. Paulo had
thick pouty lips, and a long thin nose that accented large luminous,
rich brown eyes. Michal loved looking in his eyes, with their mystical
quality that some attributed of gods.
Paulo and Michal had two small children, Marion and Seth, who were only
two years apart in age. Marion was a beautiful little girl who had
inherited her mother's grace and style, while Seth was forever in
trouble, although younger at four years.
Both children loved the stories their father made up for them at
bedtime, all of which somehow included the tiny wooden fox that rested
on a table in their atrium. Paulo told of magical journeys in which the
fox had godlike qualities and rescued helpless people from Hades and the
hounds. <ichal would tuck them in, stroking thier forehead until the
touch and Paulo's voice soothed them to sleep.
Michal made him finish all his stories later on. She loved hearing his
expressive voice as he related imaginary stories of the gods and the
fox. And she always knew what happened to the people in the end,
somehow, it was familiar to her, as if he had said it all before. It was
evidence if the strong connection between them.
The summer months came hot and fast and Paulo would often find his wife
in the atrium, so hot that she would be in his shirt, laying flat to
ward off the heat.
One day, he expected to find her there again, considering the waves of
sunlight boiling off the roads.
But she wasn't.
He called out and she came through one of the doorways that led to the
other rooms of the villa. Her face was a mask of tightly controlled
fear, emotions that he could only read in her eyes.
"What's wrong?" he asked immediately. "Marion and Seth...?"
"They're okay."
She came to him and snuggled into his arms, surprising the hell out of
him since that kind of display wasn't appropriate.
"Michal?" he whispered. She was scaring him.
"I was laying out here," she said softly. "And I felt the ground
tremble."
He didn't laugh. Sixteen years ago, when he had been eight, the ground
had shook throwing down bulidings and collapsing houses. His mother had
died in the seismos, as had Michal's older brother.
"You can still feel it, Paulo," she said and led him to the squared off
tiles where she usually sunbathed. She laid down, pulling him with her,
and an unappropriate thrill went through his body at her soft touch.
But then he felt it. The slight vibration in the earth that told him
something incredibly awful was building beneath their feet.
"What is it?" she said, pulling up to see him, propping herself on one
elbow.
He touched the side of her cheek ion a warm gesture, hoping to reassure
her. "I'm not sure. It . . . it could be a seismos, but it's very
small."
She blinked rapidly and he knew she was trying not to cry. He attempted
to divert her attention. "Has it grown any since you first heard it?"
"Yeah a bit. Enough to make me discount the idea that it was only
chariots or horses on their way here. I came back after a while and
could tell it had definitely increased." She took a deep breath and he
was proud of how brave she was being.
She was trying to control the horrible feeling in her stomach that
something was going to happen. Had it just been her and Paulo, it would
have been exciting. But she had children and that changed everything.
She didn't want them anywhere close to something that could hurt them.
"Paulo, I don't think it's a simple tremor." she said softly.
He frowned because she was right.
Suddenly a prickling snesation went through him and turned to Michal,
seeing her wide golden eyes that said she felt it too.
<Oh gods.......>
End of part 1
Pompeii (2/2)
<Oh gods....>
"Get the children, go to the gate." he said, he said and shoved her to
their rooms.
Paulo ran to the farmer's house, yelling for Iacob to collect his family
and goods and get out, find someplace safe. Paulo didn't know if it was
a seismos or not, but he knew it would be big, and deadly.
Iacob came ot him and reported that the animals and dogs were going
crazy, pawing the ground, whining bellowing, becoming extremely
agitated.
Paulo felt the blood drain as he stood, rooted to the ground. He felt
the vibrations all the way to his gut and he tersely told Iacob to get
his family out.
Michal was waiting for him at the gate, Marion clinging to her leg and
Seth's face buried in her shoulder.
<Oh gods, let me save them>
He grabbed Marion and took Michal's elbow, and began to run for their
horses.
He stopped in a dead shock when he saw it.
Mount Vesuvius, which had given occassional rumblings since his
childhood, was trembling.
Standing very close to him, Michal gasped and clutched him, her arm
tightening around Seth.
Paulo watched as it shook so voilently that it seemed to be crumbling,
then all at once, it exploded. He heard it whistling, high pitched and
heart shattering.
There was no escape.
In the instant between the explosion and the sulfur Paulo turned to
Michal and took her mouth in his, roughly and brutally having her
sweetness. Her lips and teeth clashed with his and neither breathed
until the furious hopelessness was expunged.
He pulled away, saw her wide golden eyes and felt his heart break. He
looked to the mountain. Red fire ran over hte sides and things began to
fall from the sky. Hot burning pieces of rock seared the land and air,
catching fire to the fields and their clothes. In his arms, Marion began
screaming as her foot caught a chunk of molten lava. With his bare
hands, Paulo crushed it out and started running for the villa, seeking
shelter. He felt Michal beside him and as he drew closer the air became
choked with ash and dirt. He was breathing it and gagging, hardly
noticing that Marion and Seth were shaking and twitching as they coughed
up black blood from the poison gas.
Michal took his hand and he turned to see her and watched as tears fell
from her eyes and cleared and olive path down her cheek, washing away
the soot.
They were going to die.
He had to touch her.
He grabbed her and ran, fearing that if he stopped, he couldn't start
again.
Paulo reached the atrium and one thing jumped out at him. The carved
fox.
He grabbed it and pried her hand from his clothes and placed it in her
dirty palm.
"Always," he choked out, then fell to his knees in a fit of coughing.
Marion tumbled from his arms and he looked to her blackened face, her
deathly still body.
She was dead. His beautiful, vibrant little girl.
The tears in his eyes and the ripping in his heart couldn't get rid of
the cloud of gas and ash that kept getting in his way. He couldn't move,
his limbs were heavy with lack of oxygen and he felt Michal collaspe
beside him.
Seth fell at his head.
Michal crashed onto the tiled floor, right on the mosaic of the mother
and child.
He reached out with a shaky hand to her face.
Her hand clutched the fox and she sobbed as her eyes told her that Seth
was gone.
He reache for her and found he could not stop from falling. His lungs
pulled in noxious air and his face twisted in agony.
His fingers found her lips.
<I have to touch her>
Her mouth moved against his fingertips with the last strength she had.
Their last kiss as ash rained down and the darkened sky spewed fumes and
fire. Both twisted in a fetal position, face to face, with Seth at
ttheir heads and Marion at their feet, they died.
In a death grip, Michal's hand held fast to the promise. A wooden fox,
and the last word Paulo had spoken to her echoed in her head as life
fell away.
"Always."
end,
hope you liked.
next one, no death
adios
RocketMan
Through Time III: No Death (1/2)
Date: Thu, 24 Jul 1997 18:45:36 -0700
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: Scully and Mulder are the property of CC and Fox. The past
lives are mine.
Warning: No death in this one. No bad things. This is for Gerry, who is
sticking through them even though she doesn't like character death.
Summary: M&S past lives meet again, but for joy this time.
No Death (1/2)
A.D. 122
Lugavalium, Britannia
Cadhia Scolaighe Malcolm was trying to do the laundry when Dryw Malcolm
snuck up behind her, making her drop his shirt back into the dirty
water. He kissed her flush face and smiled at her frown.
"Malcolm! You little-"
But his next kiss caught her before she could finish and her fingers
forgot the laundry and crept up behind his neck.
When they broke apart, cadhia murmured and sighed. "You've got to get a
job." she said and he saw there was more in her plea than the need for
no distractions.
But his exctement pushed away whatever perceptions he was picking up in
her eyes.
"I already did!" he laughed and her eyebrow shot up.
But the relief was marked in her face, and he took her to the table
beside the laundry tub and sat them both down.
"Are you all right, Caddy?" he asked.
She nodded. "Aye, what job?"
"I'm helping build the wall." He rushed on when he saw the anxious look
on her face. "I know it's not permanent, but-"
"The wall? Hadrian's Wall?"
The coldness in her eyes surprised him.
"Uh aye......why?"
"It's Roman!" she spat out, her face clouding.
He sighed. This was a sensitive spot for her, ever since the Romans had
crushed the British rebellion three years ago, killing her father and
three brothers outside Eboracum.
"Aye, but it's a wall! That's defense against the Caledonians."
She wouldn't look at him and he hoped he hadn't ruined anything.
"But Malcolm, they're Roman!" she hissed.
"And they're helping us, Caddy! The Caledonians hate the Romans, but
it's us that die when they attack. It was my mother and sister that died
when the Romans weren't here for defense three years ago!" He stopped
suddenly, not wanting to drive a wedge between them. "By building this
wall, we're helping protect ourselves."
She nodded and he could tell she still hadn't accepted it. "But I have a
job, Caddy," he whispered, reaching out to her with his fingers. "That's
all that matters."
She turned to him, kissing his fingertips, and settled into him. "That's
all that matters," she repeated and he got the same feeling from before
that there was something more.
"What's happeend Caddy?" he said softly, slipping his arms around her
too thin waist. With his lack of a steady job, she had been sacrficing
for him again, not eating as much as she needed to allow him to stay
strong. Her ribs protruded and her eyes were sunken a bit. "Caddy,
you've stopped eating again," he said reproachfully, but his heart was
twisting inside. "Caddy please don't do that anymore."
She turned. "I can't anymore," she said softly, needing to see his eyes.
He was thoroughly confused. "I'm relieved you got a job. I didn't know
how we'd make it, I -I . . . "
"Oh Caddy, I'm sorry," he whispered, pulling her closer to him.
"Malcolm, I'm carrying your child," she blurted out.
He forze, his arms tensing and his chest going very hard. She tirned to
face him, to see the look in his eyes. It was the only way to know for
sure if he was okay with it.
There was a silly grin on his face, and his lips swooped down to claim
hers. It was hot and hard and when he drew back her face was flushed as
it had been doing laundry.
"My baby," he whispered, eyes brighter than the ocean is when the sun
glares on it.
"Malcolm, I know this isn't a good time, but I guess I didn't time it
ri-"
"Shut up, Caddy. I don't care. We're going to have a wee one running
around." he said burying his face in her hair.
She wrinkled her nose and sighed. "You're all sweaty Malcolm," she said.
"That's okay, you don't mind."
She laughed and he noticed it was lamost hysterical. Malcolm pulled away
and encircled her waist. "It's going to be okay, Caddy. We'll make it.
Now, I've got to go to work on the wall for the rest of the day. But
tonight we'll do something special, for celebration."
She smiled and sighed again.
"Why don't you rest for the rest of the day?" he said earnestly. "The
clothes can be done tomorrow, I'll help."
"No, I-"
"Please, Caddy. You haven't been eating. You need to keep up your
strength."
She regarded him carefully. "All right." she said softly.
He smiled, scooping up her small body in his strong arms, and taking her
to the bed. "There you go. Rest now, wee thing, because you'll no doubt
need it tonight."
His wicked littl egrin made her laugh and she amiled at him. His smile
was lost in dreaminess, and a hand came up to caress her face, and
smooth back her hair. She stilled under his minstrations, her eyes
drooping, and he knew for sure she was exhausted. He sat beside her and
stroked her hair, to put her to sleep faster. One hand he rested on her
stomach, as if he could feel the small life within her. With his
fingertips making small circles on her belly and his palm caressing her
hair as a mother would a child, she began to fall asleep.
<All of this mine,> he thought. <Her breath, her body, her love. Her
beauty and intelligence. Her unwavering loyalty to me. All of it mine.
Oh gods, don't let me fail her.>
She was asleep.
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead gently.
end of part 1
adios
Rocketman
From [email protected] Thu Jul 24 21:46:43 1997
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: FWD: Through Time: No Death (2/2) by RocketMan
From: Admin-XFC <[email protected]>
Date: Thu, 24 Jul 1997 18:46:43 -0700
This story is being forwarded to ATXC on behalf
of the author from XFCreative. Please send comments via
e-mail to <[email protected]>
For information about XFCreative, visit our website at
http://www.slip.net/~takakin0/xfc.htm
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Title: Through Time: No Death (2/2)
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
see part one for other
No Death (2/2)
Malcolm was nervous, ready to screma or cry at any little thing. Caddy
was in there, in the cottage made of peat and dirt, her pain being made
known to the whole countryside.
Childbirth was hell.
He had to listen to her pain and know he had done it, and she had to go
through it. The midwife said everything was going great, that the child
would be healthy.
It sounded like Caddy was being ripped to shreds.
Then he heard it. A scream of a child coming into the cold air. HIs
child, their child. Caddy's beautiful sigh of relief and then her laugh
met his ears.
Malcolm couldn't stay outside with the men anymore. He didn't care if he
wasn't allowed in, he was going in anyway.
He ran into their bedroom in time to see Caddy cradling a small
blanketed thing. He stopped dead still, his breath taken away in shocked
silence.
Caddy looked directly at him and urged him forward with her eyes. They
were light blue and staring intently at him as if she could seduce him
with just her eyes.
And she was doing a good job of it, too.
He crept forward, suddenly shy and siddled up to the bed, peering at the
bundle she held. Caddy titled it so he could see and leaned toward him.
"You've got a boy, Malcolm," she whispered.
There were tears in his eyes as he bent forward and kissed his son's new
pink flesh. Then he kissed her, more passionately than he realized he
could.
Caddy smiled and caught her breath. "Shall we name him Dryw?"
Malcolm made a face; his name meant wise fox in Gaelic and he hated it,
after being constantly teased when he was a wee child.
"Nay," he said. "How about Keefe?" The name was a sign of favor for a
son, meaning love, promise and good looks.
Caddy smiled; he hadn't seen her smile so much since he'd met her. She
kissed wee Keefe, then the father. Malcolm blushed and pulled a piece of
wood from his pocket, putting it in her hand.
She looked at it curiously adn saw it was a carved fox with the most
haunting eyes. They looked exactly like Malcolm's did when he was guilty
about something.
"Oh Malcolm,"she breathed. "It's beautiful."
"I carved it for wee Keefe." he said, blushing a little more.
"Oh that's precious Malcolm." she said and kissed his forehead. "Here,
hold your son."
He gasped as the child was placed in his arms. He felt like a sack of
flour, soft and warm.
The child was in his arms, like softness and warmth, like touching Caddy
at night and he met her eyes, his own shocked and disbelieving. It felt
like his arms were too bug for such a wee thing, and that he was shaking
just a little too much to be good for him.
"Will I hurt him?"
"Nay, he'll love it." she said confidently.
He nodded and paced around the room, showing his child all the things
that had been ordianry and mundane, until his son came. He explained why
the birds flew and why the water ran cold and clear, and he whispered in
soothing tones, all the dreams he had for his son. Malcolm spent an hour
discovering the world with his son, all from the small window in their
room.
WHen he turned back, Caddy was alseep, exhausted after labor and looking
like a goddess with her beautiful red glod hair spilling around her
face. She glowed with motherhood and he loathed to wake her, but Keefe
was squirming, probably hungry.
"Caddy?" he whispered, crawling into the bed.
Sh emubled in her sleep and he kissed her nose. She woke at that, as she
always did and reached for Keefe. The child's mouth found her breast and
began to suckle, giving off a little sigh of contentment.
Malcolm leaned close and his breath whispered across her bare chest
until gooseflesh rippled. He kissed the exposed skin and took her hand
in his. She was still clutching the fox.
"I'll always be here, Caddy. For you, for wee Keefe. Always." he
promised, kissing her hand.
Her lips touched his and the heat in him boiled over. He stretched out
beside her and took mother and child in his arms. She snuggled into him
and kissed his ear.
"Malcolm, I'll hold you to that." she said.
He grinned and touched the soft skin of his son, Keefe Scolaighe
Malcolm.
"Be strong and courageous, wee one."
He settled back to watch his Caddy nurse.
End.
for real
adios
and sorry again
RocketMan
Through Time IV: Simper Fidelis (1/1)
Date sent: Sat, 16 Aug 1997 01:06:38 +0000
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: M&S belong to CC, past lives are mine, and simper fidelis
is, I know, the motto of the Marines. But I think it's appropriate for
them.
Notes: Simper Fidelis means always faithful.
Pieces taken from Braveheart. Thanks. CHARACTER DEATH
Simper Fidelis (1/1)
AD 220
Persia (at the end of the Parthian Empire's reign)
Civil wars were breaking out all around them, and Darius did not know
how to protect his family from the fighting. Especially since he had two
daughters, both of eligible age, and both quite pretty with light hair
and blue eyes. Their mother had been just as exotic looking.
His older daughter he did not worry about, but his younger, Dani, was
quiet and stubborn. She wouldn't settle down, take a husband or even
worship with the family anymore. She roamed the hills on her roan horse,
named Roan, quite unimaginably, and stayed out even when it rained. Her
disdain of custon left Darius in shock and she always told her father
that she would never marry a man who had other wives.
Women just didn't speak out like that to their fathers. Men were
supposed to have a lot of wives. That's how you did it.
Dani didn't understand.
*******
He saw her in the crowd around the market, her light brown hair like a
beacon of light washing over him.
He knew of her, had even talked with her, but it had been a long time
ago, before the wars, before the horribleness that came with it.
She wouldn't recognize his man's body, nor understand the pain in his
eyes. She was a women, not a warrior and he had nothing of interest to
her. He was war-sick and unsteady and his friends wanted nothing to do
with him.
The Fox they had called him. In the beginning of the war. He was fast
and smart and knew how to kill expertly.
Too many deaths, too many lives.....
He wasn't the Fox anymore.
He hated hearing the name, now.
He wished he could speak with her, to let her healing eyes touch him.
*******
Dani saw him, the Fox Moran, the one little boy who had said anything to
her after he mother had died. She'd been three. He'd been seven. Would
he even remember her? She watched him walk through the crowds of
starving men and ill fed children and she felt her heart squeeze at his
pain. She saw the sensitiveness in his eyes, the way he could not turn
his head from the poor.
She wanted to heal his pain, to build that fire of compassion higher in
him.
He started closer to her.
Her smile was bright.
And then her sister took her away - back to their mud brick home.
She had missed him.
*****
She heard a horse coming over the ridge, the unmistakable echo of hooves
on soaking wet sod.
Her heart leaped with the sound of freedom.
She heard her father yelling through the rain to someone and she pulled
away from the fire and to the doorway.
It was Moran.
The Fox.
Her heart thudded.
He lifted his hand to her and before she knew it, she was dashing
through the rain and flying onto his horse.
*******
A week later.
*******
"Dani, I have to go back to war." he whispered into her hair.
She started and turned her angry eyes to him. "Why?!" she moaned. "You
were just starting to get over that horrible thing! Why now!"
"They think I'm fit for duty. Dani.....the Empire's falling apart. I
have to help."
"Let it fall apart."
"I want to keep you safe."
"I won't be safe with you halfway around the empire." she said, pushing
her body closer to his.
"I'll come back, I promise." he said and stroked her thighs.
She shivered and her eyes turned to see his. His dark rich brown met her
shocking blue and he engraved the image forever into his mind.
"Don't go, please. Don't go."
He shook his head. "I'll come back. I promise."
"You can't promise that. You could die out there."
"I won't. I won't. I'm too good. The Fox."
"Even foxes are finally caught by the hounds."
"Dani, you aren't making this easy."
"Run away, Moran. Run away with me. Don't go back. Please don't go."
"Dani....." his words were a sigh.
"Please......I love you...."
Her face, once so stubbornly set on keeping him was now tightly draw
into fear.
She hadn't told him before that she loved him.
His smile broke free from the fear in himself.
"You do?"
She buried her face in his chest. "Of course. Don't go."
"Dani....I have to."
She wouldn't cry. She promised herself she wouldn't cry.
"Okay......but do come back. Come back and then we can be together."
He held her tightly and reached into his pocket pouch. His hands closed
around a small carved figure, the wood marks still fresh and yellow.
He pried loose her fingers from his shirt and placed it into her hands.
She saw the carved animal through blurry eyes, still attempting to hold
back the tears.
"A fox....." she murmured.
"Read the bottom..."
She turned it over.
*Simper fidelis*
"Always faithful..." he whispered.
******
Three months later
******
Her father came into the room used for cooking with a man of about forty
at his heels. He was a messanger, carrying special commands throughout
the army. He looked haggard and he greedily gulped down the meal Dani
set before him.
Then he turned his swollen, bloodshot eyes to her.
"Are you Dani of Darius?"
She nodded and clutched the carved fox in her pocket, fear bubbling up
in her.
"I have a message from The Fox." he said, coughing a bit.
Her lips went dry. Was he dead? Had he sent her a message in his last
words?
"The Fox says to meet him under your tree." Then the old man broke out
in wheezing. When he caught his breath he shook his head, "But, Dani, I
wouldn't pay no mind to it, because, little Fox died right after he said
that."
Her heart stopped beating.
<oh....gods....no please...no>
Dead.
He said he's be faithful; he'd come back to her.
......their tree......
She shot up and ran for the door. He said he'd meet her. He had sent the
message to her. He'd be there, right?
He couldn't be dead.....he couldn't. The foolish, sick man had been
lying, or crazy, or fooling around.
He just couldn't be dead.
There it was. Their tree.
Heavy hanging branches that dripped rain like tears, as if the tree knew
of the news and was in mourning also.
She collapsed under it and felt whatever hope she'd had drain away from
her.
He was gone.
She leaned her head back and felt hot salty tears cascade over her
cheeks, and make a ineffectual splash in the already soaked grass at her
side.
He was gone.
..............................simper........fidelis.............................
Her head snapped up.
Had that been his voice for real, or the desperation in her mind
projecting it to the soft wind in the tree?
..............................always..........faithful...........................
It had to be her imagination.
She sat up a little more and glanced around.
Her eye caught a shiny piece of metal in the ground.
She picked it up, brushing off the grass with her fingers and rubbed it
on her dress hem.
It was a ring.
A silver wedding ring with the words *simper fidelis* inscribed on the
band.
She slipped it on her finger and let herself cry.
Always faithful........even unto death.
end,
adios
RocketMan
Through Time VI: Last Voyage
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: I do not own Mulder and Scully but I own my own writing and
so maybe in a desperate way, I do own a part of them.....please?
Summary/Notes: This is a long-awaited sequel to my Through Time
series.....[insert laugh here] ...... and it has nothing to do with any
of the episodes. Don't you just love it? Also, it is the last in this
series, hence the play on the word 'Last' in the title. Aren't I so
clever? =-)
Through Time VI: Last Voyage
La Rochelle, France : July 24, 1684
Henri Joutel watched the French coast disappear in a haze of sunset and
water, a melding of the forge of sea and sky, and ominous sight for a
man of many superstitions.
Even though King Louis XIV had backed their sea expidition and had shown
great enthusiasm for a French colony in so aptly named Louisiana, Henri
felt danger looming over the darkening skies. Maybe it was the three
cannons decorating the deck with the name of the King's bastard son, Le
Comte de Vermandois admiral of France, or maybe it was just the gut
wrenching feeling that he had left life and civilization behind when he
had agreed to sigining on.
The four ships that sailed together, the 'St. Francois', the 'Belle',
the 'Aimable', and the 'Joly,' were commanded jointly by Robert
Cavelier, Sieur de La Salle, and Captain de Beaujeu, and they had been
fighting ever since Henri had come aboard.
Joutel watched the sun leave them and the wind pick up, but no stars
showed their beauty tonight.
How would they know where they were going if they did not have the
stars?
He felt a touch on his shoulder and turned to find his wife, Charlotte,
beside him and also watching the signs of the sea.
"We're going southwest, Joulet, don't worry." she said, knowing him all
too well.
"Yes, I can feel that, but I do not trust our Captains. They never get
along."
She sighed and slipped in his arms. "What I don't trust are all these
men. They have that evil look in their eyes that says they would rape me
the second they got the chance."
He chuckled at her openess and pulled her closer. "I can understand
that."
She wrinkled her nose and sighed. "Seriously though, the men La Salle
chose to creat a colony aren't the best of society."
"Well, there are others on different ships, and even a few families on
this one."
"The name 'Belle' belies its crew, Henri."
"Well, of course it does. We're men! Not girls..."
She punched him and he gasped. "Okay, okay, on second thought, you're
not a girl either."
She smiled and kissed his wounded chest, standing on tiptoe to even
reach that.
Just as her name meant, she was little and womanly.
His face turned serious and he took her hand. "I'm just as worried. But
you get your signs from the poeple and the questions you ask, I get mine
from this gut feeling that Dante wrote 'Inferno' just for us."
Atlantic Ocean: July 13, 1684
Charlotte was disgusted at the crew and she did not try to hide it.
As a healer and certainly as good as any doctor, she had the job of
attending everyone aboard the 'Belle.' Due to horrible nutrition and
outright debauchary among the 80 men and women, disease was rampant and
evryone had the fever, no matter how careful he was. Even La Salle had
infrequent bouts of delirium, and Charlotte was about ready to toss
everyone overboard and let them fend for themselves.
Even the married women were allowing themselves to be whores to the
crew, seeking warmth in the isolation the sea coldly provided.
Henri could see she was furious.
"Cheri, stop trying to talk them out of it. You told them the first time
they got syphillis that it was because of their activities, but they are
obviously not willing to listen." he said, helping her wash the garments
she wore during her rounds. She had been taught by a midwife that
cleaning things lowered the risk of a disease from spreading. She didn't
know precisely why, but it worked and she would not question it.
"But I feel so helpless. They're killing everyone by being so
unrestrained. We've already had to pitch four men and three women."
"Their deaths were unfortunate and I know it is very bad, but it is
nothing we can change."
"Don't you understand, Joutel? We're going to hell!"
The fiery fear in her eyes sparked horror in him and he glanced
unconsciously to his large book of blessings and the old crucifix on his
dresser.
She drew closer to him. "La Salle has been navigating blindly, Joutel!
He has no idea where we are!"
Joutel's eyes locked with hers.
Her voice grew low and she shook slightly. "La Salle is dragging us to
hell."
Atlantic Ocean: August 23, 1684
"Pirates! Pirates!" came the sea shaking yell from the crow's nest.
Joutel jumped at the wheel and immediately began tactical evasion
manuevers, swinging hard to port ot avoid the ramming he knew the ship
would get.
La Salle came on deck and ordered signals to be sent to the other three
ships in their convoy, a warning of the danger.
Slowly, agonizingly, they watched as the large pirate ship grew closer.
In the sea, battles are swift only when the distance is small.
Joutel eyed their course with fear as the dance began.
Ships at sea are not graceful things and turning hard had caused the
'Belle' to groan and shift as if she were already under attack.
The 'Aimable' had gotten the message he could tell, for it had carefully
swung to avoid the entire confrontation and was safe from the pirates.
That was the only ship Henri cared about; it was their supply ship. If
it sank, they were doomed.
The encounter played out slowly, the pirate vessel skirting around the
choppy wakes left by the 'Aimable' and the 'Belle' and heading straight
for the 'Joly.' At the last minute, just when it seemed the ship was
done for, the pirates swerved hard and rammed with sickening clarity
into the 'St. Francois.'
Charlotte's sister was on that ship.
Joutel felt his insides churn. He had been the one to convice her to go.
It was his fault.
The crew watched as the 'Joly' escaped and the other sank into the
depths of Posiden's embrace.
He could not tell her. She would be crushed.
As the goods floated to the surface along with the crew and colonists,
the pirates picked each off one by one. First the salvageable goods then
the women and children.
Joutel prayed her sister was dead.
This was not a good omen.
The country bearing ship of their convoy had been ravaged by pirates.
And Charlotte's sister . . . lost in the sea.
The pirates moved away, shooting cannon balls as they did in mockery of
France's lost treasure.
Joutel felt his blood turn to ice and he relieved himself of duty, not
caring that La Salle gave him threatening looks.
No one respected La Salle anyway.
He was a blind, delirious fool who cared more about his own name and
postion than about the men and women dying under him.
Joutel went angrily to find his wife.
They had lost the pride of France.
Saint-Domingue, Cuba: September 1684
La Salle's fevered eyes stared defiantly at her, his sweaty brow lined
with fatigue.
"We shall move on, noble lady. We shall not suffer this giant a blow
simply because one man is sick."
Charlotte rolled her eyes. "You're not the only one, Captain. Many
others are suffering, and we need more supplies than what you've agreed
to sign for. If the crew doean't get rest and time to heal, you won't
have a crew."
Charlotte could care less about La Salle's own illness, all she could
think of was Joutel laying in a fevered daze in their small bunk, his
eyes glazed over and his body cold to the touch.
"Captain," she began again, taking on a sweeter tone that complimented
her small frame and delicate features. "You really need your rest.
You've had every disease that has shown its head these last few months
and if you're not careful, you could become gravely ill."
His face relaxed a measure and he grinned lewdly at her, his hands
groping to find her waist.
She dodged him expertly, certain she knew why he had caught every plague
on board.
"All right, Cherie, you have convinced me. We will stay here for -
uh.... how long do you think is wise?"
She scrambled for an answer. "Two months, Captain."
He nodded. "Two months. Fetch me the errand boy and I'll put it into
effect immediately."
She nodded and curtsied lowly to him, despising the nickname Joutel had
given her on this man's tainted lips.
She had the time needed to keep Joutel alive.
Now all she needed was the strength.
God give her that.
She could not face the sea without Joutel.
Saint-Domingue, Cuba: November 1684
Joutel, feeling alive after months of fever and horrible aches, stood in
his customary spot on the deck, breathing in the salty tang of brackish
sea water and the sickening smell of tar pitch. The ship was refitted
and her crew healthy once again.
Charlotte came to stand beside him, the worry on her face predominant.
He slid an arm around her and kissed her forehead. "How you managed to
stay so healthy all the time, I'll never know, Cherie."
She smiled. "I was sick, once, at ten."
He frowned and kissed her teasing lips.
"I hope that lasts. Because you know we will need your services again,
Cherie. The men and the women do not listen."
She nodded and sighed, looking back to Saint-Domingue, where half their
number still resided.
"I still can't believe it."
Joutel shook his head. "Non, it's easy to believe. They are smarter than
us, I believe."
She laughed bitterly and he did not like the sound coming from her. She
had seen too much horror, too much of man's inhumanity to retain her
former innocence.
He held her closer as the sun once again set upon them.
Charlotte buried her face in his chest and he felt the tears slide away,
a much needed release for her.
She cried for her lost sister, for the idiocy La Salle had under his
command, for the crew she had lost, the innocence she had lost, but
mostly, she cried for the fear.
A fear that came because, as they sailed away from the Cuban port, they
sailed away from civilization, and they sailed away from 100 women and
men who had refused to keep going.
One hundred men and women their already dwindling colony badly needed.
What was to become of the rest?
end part one
adios
RM
'what do you think?'
Through Time VI: Last Voyage (2/2) by RocketMan
Last Voyage
400 miles west of Mississippi River: January 1685
"Anastase, come hold this, please," Cheri called out to the friar, who
had agreed to help her with some of the medical tasks.
Anastase Douay pushed his long sleeves back up his arms and heaved his
heavy weight over to her, where she was ready to deliver a woman's
child.
He took a long look at the woman's pasty face and heard her healthy
screams and trembled slightly, before taking the instruments from Cheri
and crossing himself fervently.
"Prayer for me, Friar," the woman whispered through clenched teeth.
Anastase looked to Cheri and saw the grimness in her eyes, a look of
calm detached science that told him the women would not make it.
She did not have a prayer.
He nodded and began mumbling his all too frequent prayer, the one to
send her own in harmony and peace, her soul comforted in God's love.
Cheri delivered the child expertly, after some trouble the mother had in
pushing, but the little girl came into the world nonetheless.
And the women died as her eyes caught sight of her baby's wailing face.
Cheri held the girl tightly, cleaning up the afterbirth and cutting the
cord, and tried not to let it get close to her.
But Anastase could tell it was hurting her.
"I will tell her husband," he whispered softly.
She nodded resolutely and began feeding the girl with a goatskin bottle,
her actions automatic and coming from years of training.
It was hard to lose someone who had such a wonderful reason to live.
Anastase left quietly, placing a healing hand to her forehead and
shutting the door behind him.
The child's howls diminished until all Cheri could hear was the suckling
of her mouth and the contented sighs.
A hand made her jump and she looked up to see the father, his face grim
and utterly lonely, but determined.
"If you don't want her-" she began.
"No. No, I want her. She's my wife's child. She's mine. I want her." The
man took the child and held it tightly, and the girl did not stir.
Cheri rose and walked out, pulling her bloodied clothes off as she did.
The men eyed her as she walked back to her cabin in nothing but the
undergarments, but she did not care.
When she got to the cabin finally, Joutel was waiting, arms open to her.
She walked into them and collapsed.
The sea was their enemy and she did not know how much longer she could
fight it off.
Matagorda Bay: January 1686 (year later)
Joutel felt the signs before he saw the clouds.
He heard the angry rushing of the witches of the sea and felt their icy
touch.
Cheri, laying beside him in bed, moved in her sleep anxiously and he sat
upright, knowing it was coming.
He quickly shoved on his clothes and crept out barefoot, hoping he would
not wake her.
He found the bridge and peered through the darkness to the starless sky.
Shivers glanced through him and he found the sailor manning the wheel.
They talked for a moment until Joutel felt it again.
The sea.
He rushed down to La Salle's private bunk, skirting the sailors sleeping
in the halls.
He banged open the Captain's door and ran in.
He shouldn't have.
One of the younger boys that was made to clean out the ship's hold was
lying prone on his stomach, his face smashed into the bed covers to
muffle his screams.
Joutel retched in the doorway before he could do anything, and by that
time, La Salle had seen him and was jumping away.
"Joutel!"
He shook off the horribleness of the scene and edged closer to the boy,
grabbing him and shoving him out of the Captain's cabin before anything
else could happen.
The look of rage on La Salle's face made him back up.
"Captain, storm's coming," he said quickly, and then ran out again.
He went looking for the boy, who was evidently in hiding, but needing
help. He didn't care what La Salle did with the information.
But as he heard the men being called up to lash the deck down, he
realized that he would not find the boy in time to go get Cheri.
He headed back for his cabin, being careful to avoid the men he knew
would snitch on him to La Salle.
As he drew closer he found hte boy, huddled in the doorway of his cabin
and sobbing.
But Cheri's arms were around him and he was weeping into her clothes.
He squatted next to them and brought his lips to her ear, making her
jump and frighten the boy.
In whispered words he told her what had happened, about the storm and
the Captain's proclivity.
She hugged the boy tighter and stroked his hair, her eyes wide and
filled with horror.
He pulled her up, dragging the boy with them and rushed her out to the
deck.
"Whatever happens, Cheri, don't go below deck."
She looked at him oddly, her eyes ready to doubt. They always went below
during storms.
"Cheri, just don't. This isn't a normal storm, and we're not where we're
supposed to be."
"What do you mean?" she said harshly, holding tighter to his arm.
He took her arm in his large hands and began steering her to the forward
mast. The sails were furled and everything tied down. He hoped this one
would not split, but the main one could.
"I mean, we're not in Louisiana, Cheri. I've been before and this isn't
it."
"How do you know? You've only been once. You couldn't know it-"
"Cheri! Just do it!"
He left her.
She watched him disappear into the wind.
She held onto the boy and placed her back against the rough wood of the
forward mast.
And then she heard the waves.
Slashing and crashing and falling onto the 'Belle' and destroying.
She could hear them destroying.
And then the wind drowned everything out save her own wildly beating
heart.
<Oh God, save us from the sea.>
Matagorda Peninsula: January 1686 (a few hours later)
"Charlotte!"
He felt his blood thrash in his veins, his heart skipping the beats it
needed to keep him alive.
"Charlotte!"
What if she hadn't made it? They had run aground, but surely, with her
being on the deck she hadn't been hurt.
Please, God.
"Charlotte!"
He scanned the beach again, waiting for one of the blurs to break away
from the rest and coming running to him.
But none did.
He went back to the boat, climbing up the side ladder to get back on as
others tried to get off.
He went through every cabin and bunk and was ready to give up when he
saw her bright red gold hair through the crowds.
"Charlotte!"
Yet she still did not turn around.
Troubled he drew closer to find she was bandaging others, healing their
hurts as best she could.
He saw an ugly gash on her forehead and he went to her, touching her
shoulder softly.
She jerked wildly before seeing him and smiled in an odd little way that
made his heart break.
He kissed her cheek and saw in the corner of his eye, that Anastase was
helping her, along with the boy.
He called the boy over and drew eye level with him, one hand still on
Charlotte's shoulder.
"What's your name, boy?"
The boy stuck his chin up and said, "Lucas Antoine, sir."
Joutel nodded. "Well, Lucas, help me bandage my wife, all right?"
Lucas nodded and grabbed some of the not quite white rolls and handed it
to him.
Joutel pushed away the others, telling them that they could see her
later, when everything was off the ship and it was repaired safely.
"Henri," she mumbled, but her word was garbled and strange.
He took her face in his hands and traced the gash along the eye ridge,
seeing her shudder at the wave of pain.
He shook his head and bathed the area carefully, washing away the blood
so he could see how bad it was.
Not too deep, but horribly swollen.
He carefully wrapped the bandage around her forehead, binding it tightly
to keep it from opening.
She nodded when he was done and he realized she was oddly silent.
She turned to Anastase and the Friar came to her.
"Cheri?" Joutel whispered, a cold wind running through him.
She did not turn at his call.
He touched her shoulder and saw the tears in her eyes as she turned back
to him.
He was speaking and she could not hear.
She reached out and touched his moving lips, the eery silence that was
wrapped around her like cotton kept her from him.
He shook his head in denial, brushing her hand away angrily and grabbing
her shoulders.
He yelled as loudly as he could and all she got was a half sigh.
He stopped, his senses coming back to him, and pulled her agianst his
chest, mumbling he was sorry even though she could not hear.
She understood though.
And held him tightly.
Nothing would change; she wanted to believe that. She could never be cut
away from him; their communication went beyong words.
He pulled her up and grabbed her and tightly, then motioned for Lucas
and Anastase to follow.
He walked proudly off the ship, Charlotte beside him.
Fort St. Louis on Garcitas River: December 1686
Joutel touched her subtly and she turned to face Anastase, who was
coming towards them.
Anastase waved and smiled, then hugged her as the room began to fill
with the men and women left at the colony, only 180 settlers.
After the storm last year, they had built the fort under La Salle's
orders and all knew they were not in Louisiana.
The water was brackish and unable to drink, swimming with vermin and
mud. La Salle was continously going on expeditions, wasting precious men
to search for the Mississippi River when they were needed to build and
cultivate.
At the moment, La Salle was gone again with three other men, his most
loyal.
But the next expedition was already scheduled and Joutel and Charlotte
were on the list.
They would be leaving in January of the following year and something had
to be done.
The colony was dying.
Joutel watched in silence as Captain Beaujeu pushed to the front and
began addressin the assembled men and women.
"We are tired of La Salle. We are tired. He is killing us with his
obssessive search. And we must do something before there are none of us
left."
A few nods and one cheer.
Joutel turned to Charlotte, seeking the inner quiet in her eyes that she
always lent him. He did not like what they were proposing to do.
Beaujeu spoke quietly: "In the next expedition, he is dead."
The silence attacked and left the maimed assembly to fend for
themselves.
Then slowly, a pulse began to throb among the men and it caught to the
women and soon everyone was chanting.
He was grateful for once that Charlotte could not hear it.
It was abominable.
He took her outside, sinking against the side and pulled her close to
him for warmth.
Her lips found his and she sighed as he kissed her back ferociously.
She could read lips now, and heard some of what she was saying, so she
wasn't completely deaf. But in a crowd, everything got lost.
She preferred being alone with him and Anastase.
Even Anastase was caught up in the bloodletting.
But something had to be done.
Before they all were dragged further into hell by La Salle.
Fort St. Louis: January 1687
Seventeen men and two women lined up outside the fort, their bodies
shivering in the cold and their eyes in hot with the fire of hope.
Charlotte snuck her hand into Joutel's and squeezed it. Beside her
Anastase trembled slightly, his soul burdened with the weight of what
they would do.
But the thing that troubled Joutel was that this expedition was a search
party, to find help.
Was La Salle coming around finally?
Lucas looked up at him with clear blue eyes and his purpose solidified.
After what he had seen in La Salle's bunk, he could never forgive the
man.
He took Lucas' hand and squeezed it, hoping the boy was not as
frightened as he looked.
Joutel still could not understand why La Salle had picked Lucas to go
with them; it didn't make sense, unless he had forgotten already.
Lucas would never forget.
"Luc, check my pack." Joutel said, giving the boy something to do
besides wait. Luc obediently tightened the straps and made sure he had
all the provisions.
"You're good." he said.
Joutel thanked him and as he did, La Salle came forward, his pack
carried by another boy, one who was no doubt getting the samew treatment
as Lucas had.
Cheri squeezed his hand. Her eyes gave him reassurance.
He knew why he was doing this.
For Lucas, for Anastase and the rest of the colony, but most of all, for
her.
Because her sister was lost, her innocence shredded, and her hearing
gone.
He had to make it right again somehow.
Trinity River: March 1687
Blood.
Blood.
Blood river, flowing through his hands and across his chest as he
carried the dead man.
Cheri's hands soaked in it as she had, at the last minute, tried to save
La Salle when the Friar had called out to God.
Cheri now walked silently beside him, clutching his belt, gliding
through the reeds to the river like an appirition.
She was pulling away from him.
And blood soaked through his body, into his soul and stained him there.
Lucas, ahead of him, had actually shot the bullet that had killed the
man, but no one was going to tell him that. He needed his innocence,
whatever was left of it.
Anastase walked beside Lucas who alternately wept and crowed as they
drew closer to the river that would become La Salle's resting place.
And the blood, the blood.....
it flowed like rivers of water rushing to the fall....
the blood, the scarlet flags of injustice mocking him......
the blood......and Cheri, her eyes troubled.....
Trinity River: March 1687
They stood on the bank, watching the body of a perverted forty-three
year old half-man sink to the muddy depths that were appropriate for
him.
Cheri stood in his embrace, her chilled body seeking warmth in their
isolation.
They turned away as the sun set on the dirty river but the stars did not
follow.
Lucas turned to him and his eyes were pits of despair.
"We did what was right, didn't we, Joutel?"
Cheri was watching him.
"We did what we thought was right."
"But *was* it right?"
He was anxious to know. His sanity seemed hinged on it. "Was it right?"
Cheri was watching him.
Anastase was staring into him.
He turned to where Charlotte, his beloved cheri, could not see his lips.
"Yes, Lucas, we did what was right."
Lucas turned in relief as Anastase turned in disgust.
Joutel turned to Cher for assurance.
She was shaking her head.
"I know." she said softly, the words odd on her tongue.
"I know, Henri."
His name on her lips was sweet and he walked into her arms, collapsing
there.
He had helped to drag them out of La Salle's Inferno, only to thrust
himself further into his own.
But Charlotte was saving grace.
She did not turn away from him.
"Us, forever," she said and pressed rough wood into his palm.
He looked down and saw a carved fox, the eyes touched with flowers of
sorrow.
It had been her father's childhood toy at one time, and before that no
one knew. It was her prized possession.
He felt the peace return and took her hand.
They turned away from the river.
They could not return to the dying Fort, nor to the death of the sea.
They headed instead for north and freedom.
<God be with us.>
end
adios
RM
Through Time VI: Last Voyage 2
Data: Quarta-feira, 26 de Novembro de 1997 21:31
Author: RocketMan >[email protected]<
Disclaimer: M&S do not belong to me.
(see part one for other)
Last Voyage 2
Trinity River: April 1998
"Look, Scully!" he whispered franitcally, shoving her awake with his
toe.
She crawled out of her sleeping bag and up next to him, pushing away
sleep and his rudeness.
"See?" he said, pointing with a finger to the image before them.
A man, his form wavering and dark even in the moonlight, was pawing at
the river bank, searching for something it seemed.
"They say it's the ghost of La Salle, whose men ambushed him and dumped
his body in the Trinity Lake."
Scully watched in fascination as the thing looked up once and shivered,
then returned to his digging, a franticness that made her feel sorry for
the thing.
"A ghost,"she breathed. Her hair, rumpled by sleep, slipped into her
eyes and she carefully pulled it back.
Mulder's intense eyes looked to hers. "A ghost. And there's no way you
can tell me it's not."
She shook her head. "I have no answers for you, Mulder."
The image jerked suddenly and looked to the river, as if by staring into
it, he could regain what had been lost.
And just as quickly as he had appeared, his image faded into
nothingness.
Mulder leapt to his feet and ran to where the ghost had been.
In the bank was no footprints or clawmarks, but only sand and water and
grass.
Scully came up behind him and looked over his back, eyeing the clean
bank.
"What was he looking for?"
"I don't know. Maybe he lost a piece of gold or something as they were
throwing him in."
She shook her head, and then began sifting through the sand with her
toe, not sure why, but drawn to the act.
Her foot hit something and she began digging with her fingers, carefully
avoiding the sharp sticks and rocks until her hand closed on a piece of
carved wood.
She frowned and pulled it up into the moonlight, brushing sand off its
worn surface.
It was old, antique looking and the carving looked foreign, as if some
stranger from an unknown land had lovingly carved each detail.
Mulder looked at it with interest and then smiled.
"It's a fox, Scully."
She smiled and offered it to him. "Here, it's your namesake."
He shrugged. "Finder's keepers."
She tucked into her coat pocket and began combing the rest of the bank
for any clues to the nature of the thing they'd seen.
Scully's Apartment: May 1998
Dana turned in her sleep, feeling cold and bare in just her T-shirt. But
it was too hot to wear anything else.
She sighed and turned again.
And found the wan face of Mulder staring back at her.
She yelled and jerked and it vanished.
Gone.
She shook her head and looked to her clock, sitting on her dresser
beside the carved wooden fox.
There he was again, his face and a shifting form.
It was Mudler.
And yet it wasn't.
She jolted out of bed and to the other side of the room, grabbing her
gun from the chair as she did.
The form smiled and laid a trembling finger to the fox.
Suddenly was staring directly at herself, in a ghost image too.
She shook her head and rubbed her eyes, watching the ghosts clasp hands
and then disappear.
Along with the carved fox.
She slowly crept over to her nightstand, peering at it in the dark.
Nothing but her clock and a box of tissues.
She picked up her phone and dialed Mulder's number.
He answered on the first ring.
"Mulder, you're not going to beleive this."
"Try me. Oh, and did you leave that fox over here?"
Silence.
"Scully?"
Silence and then a rush of her breath.
"I think I'm going crazy. I just saw us. And they took the fox."
end
adios
RM
just a little follow up.....