Long Time Gone

[connorbeckett]

Out of Character: for those who are unaware, this thread accounts for Connor's (my) long absence. we are going to work under the storyline that he has been deathly ill. i look forward to writing with you guys again, and i'm sorry i've been absent for so long. now ... onto the story!

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In this beginning, as with so many others, all was darkness, an endless, empty void that contained a universe of nothing.

The world lived on as he slept.

The ‘Verse cares naught about a single man’s story, whether it be epic or incomplete. Or, all the more likely to those living it, finished untimely. The worlds keep spinning, breeding apathy for the dead with each act of life. All but a few had forgotten the man in the bed, with only a chance comment or a passing memory in some stray moment somewhere giving testimony to the man of action he had once been.

This isn’t a request for pity or a prayer for solace; it’s just the way things are. Life is for the living, and for all intents and purposes the man in the bed had been about as far from living as possible for many months …

A drowsy, neo-natal warmth and a vague sense of contentment was the first hint of something … more. Distant, unformed questions lurked nebulously in some unknown region of that darkness, the primal urgings of an as-yet unheralded, unaware consciousness. The questions were formless, but they were persistent, nudging the almost-consciousness to seek … something.

Finally, he opened his eyes.

“He?”

The sentient thought was lost in the sudden painful brilliance of overwhelming light. Eyes that had lain dormant, atrophied from a long sleep, were overcome with the unexpected flood of illumination. Tears sprang forth, a minute wellspring of life from orbs that had lain lifeless for months, creating a miotic, watery view of a bright whiteness.

An eternity of moments passed as a ragged symphony of staccato blinks cleared the moisture away and long-unused muscles adjusted, painfully burning in the struggle. A white-walled room eventually formed through the veil of tears, and uncertain memories began to venture forth, slogging through the fog of his mind like through knee-deep muck. Nearer, the form of a prone body lay motionless under a white blanket, splayed like a series of lumpy hills under a cloak of snow. Resting on the blanket was a pallid hand, the ghostly skin a sickly reflection of the clean white fabric and in stark contrast to the vivid artwork inked into the skin.

He stared dumbly at the hand. Like a cow at a new gate.

“They’ve put me in the morgue next to a dead man.” The thought was vaguely disquieting as realization set in. That is, until the fingers twitched imperceptibly, and he felt the clean smoothness of the sheet.

He continued to stare at the hand.

“My hand,” he eventually concluded, wondering what it meant.

In the depths of his wane perceptions, a steady scritch scritching sound had been doggedly tugging at him, like a kid brother wanting his attention. The soft sound was incessant, like mice chewing grain behind the wall. He only became consciously aware of the scratching when it momentarily stopped.

A soft rustle, like the wind gently caressing a forest of leaves, interrupted the whispered scritch scritching, and he sought the source. Impotently, but with great effort, he managed to turn his head. The task proved formidable and left him exhausted as he peered stupidly at the figure sitting at a nearby desk, toiling over some paperwork. Exhaustion foiled his efforts to recall the strange face that he knew so well.

The desert of his mouth was filled awkwardly with a clumsy tongue that was dry as ash. Still, he tried to speak, although his unfocused thoughts hadn’t yet decided what to say. Distant notions of asking for water or saying hello seemed too unimportant and too complicated. And too ambitious.

All he could muster was a soft, rasping, whisper.

“Nnnnnnnn …”

[Ari Deschain]

It was only a matter of time before the Lenore's mechanic came to the realization that her shipmates were right about their captain. Connor was not getting better, he was probably not going to wake up anytime soon, and they really needed to get him some help at a medical facility equipped to fix him up. Bedding down her pride was almost as hard as trying to keep in mind that they were attempting to help him, not abandon him. Still, it was a hard pill for Ari to swallow. She hated giving up, and it really felt like that's exactly what they were doing to Connor.

So, after some long discussions with Gabriel and a couple of others, Ari agreed that the best course of action would be to drop Connor off at a hospital on the way to Londinium. To try and wash away the guilt, Ari threw herself into her work and into a project she had started in her free time. She was forging a medical history and some identification papers for Connor. It was quite an illustrious history, filled with details about how he had fought for the Alliance and been a decorated war hero. Things she knew would help his chances of being kept at a good medical facility.

When she wasn't working and couldn't sleep, which was most nights now, she would find herself heading to Connor's room. Sometimes Donovan would be in there and they would talk and watch the staggering rise and fall of Connor's chest as he hitched in breath after breath. Most of the time, however, she would sit in the chair at his desk alone and work on the documents she was forging, or sit on the floor beside the bed and tell him all of the Lenore's gossip for the day.

It was one such night when Connor finally came to. She was seated at the desk, one foot on the chair and her chin propped on her folded knee as she worked. At first, the change in rhythm in Connor's breathing did not even register, so intent was she on her work. However, the little moaning noise Connor made was enough to make her turn her head to check on him. To her utter astonishment, he was looking right back at her. Her jaw was slack, her hands frozen in their motions. If he felt slow and stupid, she matched him in those sentiments at that moment.

It was only for a moment, however. Ari was adaptive, and surprise was not an emotion that lingered. Joy, however, was. She leaped out of her seat and rushed to him, sitting on the bed next to him and wrapping her thin arms around his neck while simultaneously planting a kiss on his forehead. She had to restrain herself from leaping on him or jostling the bed too much. "Connor, you're awake! How are you feelin'? You had me right scared, you were out so ruttin' long! You need anythin'? Some water?" Without awaiting a response, she poured some water from a jug on the desk into a cup for him and held it out, encouraging, "Go on, drink it. It'll help, yeah?"

[connorbeckett]

The cascade of words washed over him.

His mind swam through the deluge, futilely searching for meaning. Before he understood much more than her happiness at seeing him awake, she proffered him a glass of water. His muscles left wasted from the extended illness, his prostrate body weak as a three-day-old cat, he vainly attempted to grasp the cup, but his hand fell limply back to the bed. Like a late-autumn leaf. He fared no better when he tried to lift his head, though sweat drenched his brow from the effort.

Undeterred by his weakness, Ari sat back down on the edge of the bed, gently lifted his head into the crook of her elbow, and patiently decanted the water into his mouth. He nursed gratefully at the life-giving fluid, his throat contracting painfully as he swallowed.

Pausing to catch his breath, he gazed raptly at the mechanic’s small hand as it held the cup. In a fleeting moment of clarity he was awed by how delicately her strong fingers clasped it, as if holding a trophy that meant the world to her. There was something akin to poetry about it, but he couldn’t say exactly how.

When he’d finally finished, she eased his head back down on the pillow and stood, looking down at him with a face haunted with care. He hated that he’d put the worry there, and tried to think of something that would ease her pain.

“Sorry I overslept, Ari,” he quipped, his voice a rough whisper. “You know how hard it is to find good help these days.”

It wasn’t much, but it was the best he could come up with. His throat burned with the exertion. He was pleased that the feeble joke had at least brought a short-lived smile to her face. She bent over him and gently deterged his face, wiping the sweat away with a tenderness that belied the power in the small hands that could build engines. He was so weak that he couldn’t even wave her away. He just lay there, helpless as an infant.

He had so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to ask, but his weakened body had put forth as much effort as it could manage. Despite a valiant battle, his body lost the fight … as all men’s must. The outcome is inevitable; it is only a matter of time.

He slept.

How long he slept he didn’t know, but when he next awoke he felt a bit stronger and actually managed to wrestle himself up into a sitting position before weakness overtook him, leaving him gasping for breath. A face he barely recognized stared back at him from the mirror across the room. Pallid, ceraceous skin and hollow, shadowed eyes lent an eerie, skull-like cast to his appearance. His pale, emaciated body looked more skeleton than man; the intricately inked artwork was lurid on the wan skin.

“I look like death warmed over,” he admitted wryly. Then, wondering aloud, he added, “How long have I been down?”

Unaware that he wasn’t alone in the room, he didn’t expect the voice that answered from beside his bed. Turning weakly to look at his friend, and considering the consequences of her response, he replied.

“That long? What all have I missed?”

He listened intently as Ari began, thankful for his improving health as the long and twisted tale unfolded. It appeared as if he had slept through the beginnings of a drama right out of a storybook. As he listened, he thought to himself, “Connor, ol’ boy, you best git better real quick. You’ve a lot o’ work t’ do.”

[Ari Deschain]

So relieved was she that the captain was awake, she did not even think how silly it was that she was offering him a glass to hold when he had been out for so long. She could tell how hard he was trying to sit up and take it for himself, and it gave her a pang to see Connor, once so strong and sure, not even able to sit up. Quickly, she scooted closer and gently lifted him half-up into her arms. "Don't rush it, yeah? I got you. Jus' open your mouth, Connor." She offered him an encouraging smile when he started drinking.

Ari didn't notice the way his eyes focused on her calloused hand; she just thought he was staring at the water glass. She let him relax as she set the empty glass aside, pleased he'd finished it. Crossing her arms, she gnawed gently on her lip as she regarded him. His lips parted, and he croaked out a joke, of all things. Tears actually sprang to her eyes at the fact that he was his old self, even after so long out, and she grinned. "I'm just glad you're back...Who do you think you are, leavin' me to hold down the ruttin' fort?"

She sat on the bed beside him and wiped his face, brushing his hair back from his forehead. For a moment, it looked as if he would say something, but then his eyes slid closed and he fell into a, thankfully, peaceful sleep.

As he slept, Ari alerted Leighton to the Captain's recovery, but asked him not to come until Connor had awoken once more. Then she took up her regular seat at the desk and put away the fake documents she'd been working on in a drawer, pleased that it seemed there would be no need for them.

When Connor came to once more, she watched as he sat up and looked at himself in the mirror. He seemed shocked at his appearance. She studied his scarred and tattooed torso, frowning a bit at how thin he'd become. When he asked how long he'd been out, she rolled her shoulders in a casual shrug. "Too long. Few weeks. Scared me, I'll tell you." She paused, reluctant to reveal how scared she'd been. "We were gonna drop you off on-planet at a hospital."

What had he missed? Ari chuckled a bit and ran a hand through her hair. "Oh, where to start? We made Gabriel first mate after you got sick...needed someone to take the reigns, and I sure wasn't up to it, yeah? Took on a couple of passengers, and picked up a stowaway as well. Name's Penny, she's a friend of Rade's. I don't like 'er much, but Gabe decided to let her stay on, prove herself I guess. We're gettin' close to Londinium now, and we've got a great plan ta get Bella back." She went into more detail, aware how troubled he look by everything that had happened.

She paused when finished, cocking her head and gently smoothing the blanket over his chest. The mechanic seemed to want to keep touching him in little ways, to make sure somehow that he was real. "How you feelin'?" Her grey eyes studied him, still concerned. She lay the inside of her wrist against his forehead, checking for a fever. He definitely was better, though he was still obviously weak. "I told Leighton you woke up. Say the word and I'll fetch 'im."

[connorbeckett]

The list of items that warranted immediate attention was too long, almost unbelievably long, in fact. It was as if someone had written a story and inserted every plot twist conceivable whilst he was unavailable. This just lent more evidence to how truly long the extended illness had afflicted him … and provided more impetus for Connor to get back to normal. “I gotta git outta this sickbed,” he thought, as Ari provided the troubling details to all the events that had impacted his ship and his crew. “I can’t be layin’ around all day with work t’ git done.”

After what seemed an interminable list of issues that needed immediate-if-not-sooner tending to, Ari finally paused and mentioned the doctor. “Yes, ma’am,” the prone gunman rasped, his native drawl still evident despite years away from his home planet. “I reckon th’ Doc oughtta check me out an’ see iffn I’m good to go, or iffn I’d be better used by filling in a hole somewheres.” The flash of anger across Ari’s face said she didn’t think his macabre humor was funny at all, so the trained killer decided it would be best if he changed tactics … getting Ari mad at him wouldn’t be conducive to a long and happy life.

“I’d like t’ talk t’ Gabe, too, iffn he can git free, Ari,” Connor requested as the mechanic walked over to the intercom. After she’d buzzed the two men and returned to his bedside, he asked for one more thing.

“I don' mean t' keep pesterin' ya, but would it be too much trouble iffn you’d bring me somethin’ to eat? I’m so hungry, my stomach’s rubbing a hole in my backbone.” The old quip received only a snort and a stern crossing of the arms, followed by a suspicious stare. Before he could get scolded, Connor put on his most-honest expression and said, “I promise. I won’t git into any trouble ‘fore you git back.”

A raised eyebrow and a stern lecture about taking it easy and needing his rest showed just how little trust Ari had for his most-honest-innocentest look, but she did finally leave to bring him a bite.

“She’s become so suspicious!” Connor joked to himself when he was alone, trying to ignore the feeling that blossomed inside him when she left. For the first time in ages, he felt a deep connection to someone, but he didn’t have time at the moment to consider what that meant. “Now I jus’ need to git out of bed and see what all needs seein’ to …”

He wrestled his legs over the side of the bed, pausing to catch his breath, his head swimming from his weakness as the room spun about him. But, stubborn as an old mule, he refused to give in to his condition and tried to get out of bed.

Which is why he was in the floor when Ari got back with the food.

[Ari Deschain]

As Ari rattled off everything that had happened since he'd fallen sick, she could see that Connor was becoming slightly overwhelmed. It certainly was a lot to take in, but he had herself and Gabe to watch his back while he had been down. Ari had the best interests of the Lenore at heart while Gabriel had never wanted to take over Connor's position. However, Rade was strong-willed and had a powerful voice, and Penny's new inclusion on the ship was a little troubling to the usually easy-going mechanic.

When he agreed to her sending for Leighton, Ari nodded, relieved she hadn't had to fight him on the issue. She had wondered if he were the type of man to be too proud to let someone have a look at him. His grim joke, though, caused her eyes to narrow and forced one corner of her mouth into a bit of a sneer. Bedding down the snide remark that was bubbling in her throat, she stood up and crossed to the intercom to distract herself with the calling of the doctor and first mate. "Leighton and Gabe, please meet me in the captain's quarters straightaway."

Before she could sit down at his side once more, the captain asked one more thing of her. She bit her lip, cocking her head as she crossed her arms. "Yer not gonna do somethin' foolish while I'm gone, are you?"He assured her this was not the case, and Ari nodded slowly. "Alright. Be back in a tick. Don't try to get up or anythin'. You've been out a while, yeah? Best to jus' lay back an' wait for the doc. If I find out you were tryin' to wander around while I'm gone..." She trailed off, raising an eyebrow as she drew one finger across her throat, half-jokingly.

Strangely reluctant to leave him, part of her afraid she'd return to find him unconscious once more, Ari left the room and made her way quickly to the galley. What would she do if she lost her friend to the sickness once more? There weren't many in this 'Verse she'd truly grieve the loss of; Leighton and Connor were perhaps the people she was closest to now. Connor simply had to get better, because she would accept no less of him. Even if she had to bully him every step of the way, he'd recover.

Once in the galley, trying not to get lost in her thoughts, Ari warmed up some broth and grabbed a few protein crackers to soak in it. He needed the protein, but she was afraid to give him anything with more substance after his body had been without real food for so long.

When she came back to the room, her stomach dropped, and she almost dropped the bowl and package of crackers she was juggling as well. Beckett was on the floor, and she wasted no time in setting down the food so that she could hunker down next to him. "Connor?" A slight crack in her voice betrayed her fear as she gently took his shoulders in her hands and leaned him against the bed. The fear caused her to raise her voice as she berated him. "Gorrammit! You great, clumsy, stubborn thing! I told you to stay still!" She studied him for any cuts of bruises from the fall, the venom in her voice gone as she asked, "Are you alright?"

[phantomseige]

Leighton grabbed his bag and started heading to the Captain's quarters. The biometrics he had set up to monitor Connor were varying, and no doubt the man was under some feverish hallucinations that Ari wanted gone. Nothing a little pharmacological magic couldn't handle.

But when the doctor walked into the bedroom, he couldn't help but smile, even as he rushed to Connor's side to assist Ari in helping him.

"Well well, someone's up," he said, examining Connor for any injuries. None were apparent, but it would take a more thorough check to determine anything for sure. "I was starting to fear that I'd need a hospital to wake you up." He took a small PDA from the bag and looked over the biometrics. They were undoubtedly the healthiest he had seen in a while, now that Connor's heart wasn't racing from adrenaline.

"Tell me," Leighton said as he started to check Connor's pupil response with a small pen light, "Are you feeling okay? Any perception problems: hallucinations, hearing difficulties or ringing in the ears, or so on? Sometimes a long time unconscious can cause peripheral issues with the senses."

[connorbeckett]

"Are you alright?"

With a grin that was more of a grimace, Connor answered from the floor. “Yeah, I’m jes peachy. Th’ floor looked at me crossways, so I hit it. I figgered that oughtta teach it a lesson.”

Seeing the concern weighing in her eyes despite his attempt at levity, he explained, “With so much work to do, I jes wanted to git started helpin’ out. I might’ve bit off more’n I could chew jes now, though.”

“Might, I say,” he added when he saw the steely expression sweep across Ari’s face.

Trying to ignore her not-so-quiet mutterings about his mule-headed stubbornness and other assorted ill-favored (but apparently numerous) attributes, he glanced toward the food she’d brought. His stomach rumbled loudly in agreement with his notion that now would be a good time to eat. But before he could mention something about it, the sawbones walked in with a flood of questions.

After the doc had finally paused to take a breath, Connor quipped, “I hear a lot o’ folks talking. So unless that means I’ve gone crazy, I reckon I’m feeling better. But ‘fore you go and start prodding me with any o’ those medicinal instruments, hows about I git a bite to eat first? ‘S that alright with you, Doc?”

But after his disastrous attempt to walk, it didn’t seem that Ari trusted him with the important task of feeding himself. She took it upon herself to handle that chore, complete with more commentary on the lack of good sense he had … though she seemed to not have her heart in the insults. Her gentle looks when she thought he wouldn’t notice were proof that she was still very concerned about his health.

Resigned to being hand fed like an invalid, Connor thought about the woman beside him. ”She’s an angel. An angel with callused hands and oil-stained coveralls. And prob’ly a pitchfork somewheres, too. There’s gotta be a poem in that somehow.”

At some point in the midst of listening to the doc talk about his condition, in what Connor assumed was English (though he couldn’t translate the medical jargon at all), the prone gunman interrupted with a question about a topic that had been pointedly avoided by both Ari and Leighton.

“How long before we reach Londinium?”

[gabe]

It had been a long day for Gabe. The Lenore was coming up on Londinium soon, and there was a lot to do in preparation. He'd taken a call from a criminal named Jack who'd wanted to explain that he'd be meeting one of their crew on Londinium and helping to make sure everything went down as planned. Although he'd said nothing about it, Donovan was sure Minerva was behind Jack's sudden appearance.

Jove had taken the call over to work out Rade's list of items needed for the job, and Jack had promised to attain everything he could. They had agreed to meet somewhere on-planet, and Donovan had gone on to other duties.

Because he was so busy, the first mate had not been able to take breakfast or lunch, but he finally found some free time and made his way with relief to the galley. He was just sitting down with a bowl of stew someone had left on the stove for the taking when the loudspeaker crackled to life above his head.

Leighton and Gabe, please meet me in the captain's quarters straightaway.

Donovan sighed a little and looked down at his stew regretfully. His mood quickly changed, though, as he realized what it could mean if Ari was calling for the doctor and himself. "Beckett's awake?" he mused. Shrugging, he lifted his bowl and began making his way to the captain's quarters, spooning stew into his mouth as he walked. "There's no rule says I can't bring it with me," he muttered to himself.

When he opened the door, it was on an odd scene. Ari, the tough little mechanic whose very temper sent Gabe, who was nearly a foot taller than her, running, was sitting on the bed next to Connor. She was spooning food into his mouth almost tenderly. It was also strange to see the man whom Gabe had almost always only known as a frail, unconscious form to be sitting up and with a jovial look on his face. Leighton was the only person who made sense, dealing with Connor in his usual professional way.

"Captain! Glad to see you're awake. Gabriel Donovan...Don't know if you remember me. I only came on just before you fell ill. Leighton." He nodded at the doctor in greeting. "Ari...You called?" Feeling it was inappropriate to slurp on his food whilst he was talking, Donovan set his bowl on the table.

[Ari Deschain]

Ari frowned as he joked about the floor insulting him. She helped him up, ignoring his not-so-subtle attempts to redeem himself. Muttering under her breath about his stubborn nature, though she would have done much the same in his position, she stood up straight. "You shouldn't be strainin' yourself. I can't wait 'til you're better so I can beat the tzao gao outta you," the mechanic grunted, crossing her arms to glare down at him. The food lay forgotten on the table for the moment; she was too busy admonishing him to worry about his stomach.

When Leighton burst into the room, Ari carefully concealed her relief. Recognizing the doctor's authority, she quickly stepped back as he bustled by her. As he went over Connor, busily checking instruments and talking fast, Ari grinned fondly at the doctor's back. It was so good to have him along; she wouldn't have trusted anyone else working on the crew of this ship. Connor jokingly suggested the doctor let him eat, and Ari lifted the bowl and crackers from where she'd set them. "Is it okay, Doc?" she asked, showing Leighton the contents. After the doctor approved her choice of Connor's meal, the mechanic sat herself once more next to the captain. Quirking an eyebrow as he reached for the spoon, she batted his hand away. "Right. You can't even stand up."

She began spoon-feeding it to him, making sure to frown at him in mock anger every time he glanced at her with amused eyes. "Now Doc, don't you go tellin' the whole ruttin' crew I did this. Got a reputation to consider, yeah? Contenting herself with sitting quietly as she Leighton checked up on the captain some more, she was surprised when Connor brought up an obvious question. She couldn't believe she hadn't told them how much longer the ride to Londinium would be. Her lips parted, but before she could speak, Gabe entered. The tall man looked at she and Connor with something akin to puzzlement, and she smirked as she held up the spoon to the first mate in greeting. "'ello, Gabe. Cap wanted to see ya."