| Welcome aboard, me maties! AG is a Pirates of the Caribbean RPG taking place after Curse of the Black Pearl, and incorporating many of the plots of Dead Man's Chest and At World's End, but is not beholden to follow them exactly, or at all. We welcome both Canon characters and Original Characters, and hope you'll consider joining us for some adventure on the high seas. Sign the Articles! If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| Can't Go Home Again; 25 June 1751 ; Closed | |
|---|---|
| Topic Started: 20 Dec 2007, 08:09 PM (375 Views) | |
| Keegan McAllister | 20 Dec 2007, 08:09 PM Post #1 |
Foot-in-Mouth Disease
  ![]](http://209.85.48.14/static/1/pip_r.png)
|
This thread takes place directly after Two and a Half Men. How could the sun be so bright and cheerful when things never looked so bleak? Once Keegan had dragged himself from the dim slums of the back of a blacksmith's shop, he cursed the sunlight and had to take a few moments to look around. He had been all over Port Royal in his lifetime there, though some areas were more frequented than others. It took him a few moments to recognize shop names and businesses, but eventually he realized where he was and knew how to get home from there. For several moments he leaned against the side of the blacksmith's building, hugging his burned arm to his chest. Those moments dragged into minutes. He stood in a narrow alley between two battered buildings, looking like any poor street urchin resting from a hard morning of picking pockets. The pain in his arm struck him into immobility whenever he moved the skin, and he was terrified to look down and see that lowercase D staring back at him. It didn't bleed, but he could feel the burn's heat leaking through the fabric of his shirt and warming his chilled torso. He thought the brand would transfer itself to his chest, or any other place it touched. Silly, he knew, but it was a fear nevertheless. After a few minutes, maybe an hour, had passed, Keegan stepped out of the alley. He rolled down his sleeves to cover his arms and was momentarily shocked at the color difference. Tortuga and his adventures abroad had garnered more grime than he realized. The parts of the sleeves that had been rolled up the whole time were mostly white, but the parts that were exposed were completely gray. He still had no idea what his face looked like, but he didn't care. He was still completely exhausted, and this gruesome detour would only hinder his return to home and bed. He couldn't go home now though, not yet. He stumbled through the street, grimacing in pain at almost every step. The biggest problem was infection. He was so dirty and had been in such horrible places, he was sure the burn would infect if he didn't clean it soon. What was the best way to clean a burn? It wasn't painless, that much he knew. Vinegar and...alcohol. The thought of alcohol made him screech to a halt. He almost fell over. After he'd regained his balance he turned to walk back down to the docks, moving with a much more determined stride. ----- Moat House tavern was situated directly on the docks. Sailors and naval officers and pirates alike enjoyed the kind hospitality and tolerable fare provided by the Woodrow family. The mother manned the bar, enticing people in with her copious bosom, while the father manned the kitchen, scaring people out with his huge meat cleaver. Their children helped run the tavern, doing various jobs. One such child, a sickly thing by the name of Alden, cleaned tables and served food. Sometimes he washed dishes, but usually his sisters did that job because it kept them with their father and away from dangerous individuals. Alden had dealt with his fair share of dangerous individuals, usually escaping their ire by hunkering under a table or behind the bar. Over the week he had begun to look even more tired and pallid than usual. The absence of his good friend Keegan bothered him immensely, especially as John visited and gave him updates. He had mentioned something about Keegan getting mixed up with Jack Sparrow and Cutler Beckett. They were dangerous men, and Alden had even briefly met Sparrow the first time Keegan did as well. He began to remember that night with increasing clarity over the week of Keegan's absence. How could his friend get mixed up with pirates? He thought Keegan was smarter than that. Didn't he know how much his family depended on him? Alden knew that if he was worried, Keegan's family could only be more so. He tried to reassure John that Keegan would soon return, that the older boy was smart and brave and adaptable. As the days progressed he wasn't sure how much weight his condolences offered the young McAllister, or himself. One thing was certain though: Keegan was in trouble. One afternoon he was carrying a meal from the detached kitchen to the main tavern when he heard a strange sound from the wall that surrounded their paved yard. Thinking it a cat, he ignored it and continued along, but the sound increased and became unmistakably human. He stared at the wall, then gawked when a bundle of dirty clothes and matted hair and grimy skin came tumbling over the wall and onto the ground. The body let out a very painful yelp and clutched one of its arms. It was some kind of street child. Alden frowned and glanced at the kitchen, prepared to back away and retrieve his father. This urchin was bigger than the usual beggars who tried asking for food and looked stronger despite his ragged appearance. He could easily overtake Alden and steal the food in his arms. Just when the tavern boy was about to call for his father, the figure stood up, and Alden instantly recognized the stance the boy took. "Keegan," Alden breathed, staring outright at the bedraggled figure as it looked up with a very pained grimace on its face. He could tell it was Keegan by the way the older boy stood, though just about anything else was indistinguishable. The boy's skin color was even different. He looked like a native descendant, if it weren't for the bright hazel eyes that glowered back at him. Alden rushed over and carefully set the tray of food on the ground before tackling the boy with a tight hug. Keegan, though appreciative of the affectionate display, winced as his arm was pressed against him. "Keegan, it's you! I can't believe it!" Alden chirped with a huge smile as he stood away and clapped the boy on the shoulders. "Where have you been? Are you all right?" Instantly his smile disappeared and he let go of Keegan completely. "You smell awful." Keegan backed away against the wall, crouching down to hide in the shadow of a large cistern. He continually glanced between the kitchen and the tavern. "I need some spirits. Rum or wine. Something," he mumbled. His serious tone and suspicious posture took all the relief and joy out of his reunion with Alden. Alden frowned at the boy. "For what? To drink? Why are you acting so funny?" For a few moments Keegan was silent, rocking back and forth on his heels as he hugged his arm to his chest. This was too big to keep to himself. He couldn't and wouldn't tell his family, but he had to tell someone. He knew he could trust Alden with this secret. "I got burned," he said slowly, staring at his dirty knees. "And I need to clean it. Rum will do; I know you have some. Please, Alden." The tavern boy stared at his quiet friend, but turned and silently walked back to the building. He scooped up the tray of food as he passed, delivered it to the proper patron once he was inside, then ordered a bottle of rum from his mother. He didn't mention Keegan's return, feeling certain that the other boy didn't want anyone else to know just yet. He returned, taking a clean rag with him as well. Or at least, as clean as they could get at the tavern. Keegan was still hunched behind the cistern, leaning against the wall. Alden glanced around to make sure no one was around as he knelt down beside his friend and uncorked the rum bottle. He handed it to the boy with a curious expression. "Where have you been, Keegan?" he asked again. The older boy sighed as he pulled his right arm away from his chest, grimacing and whimpering in pain as he turned it around so he could see the blistering brand. Alden craned his neck to see but Keegan shrouded it from view, ignoring the boy's question. He lifted the rum bottle with his left hand and tipped it onto the brand, then yelped and clutched his arm again as it zinged with pain. Alden took the bottle and grabbed Keegan's hand. "I'll do it, I've been burned before. Papa dropped a skillet against my leg once. Couldn't walk right for we...." His explanation died on his lips as he managed to pull Keegan's arm from his body and came face to face with the burn. It wasn't any old scald like he'd suspected. Keegan had been branded. He had been branded, of all things, a pirate. He stared, then looked up at Keegan with a shocked and confused expression. Keegan looked ashamed, his mournful eyes on the red brand that still stung from the rum. He couldn't lift his gaze to meet Alden's, afraid of what he might see there. "What happened?" Alden whispered. Keegan pressed his lips together and shook his head, his brows knotting in pan and frustration. "I'll tell you tomorrow, or the next day," he hoarsely replied. "Can you please just mend it?" Alden scowled. "I'll do it once you tell me what happened," he snapped desperately. Keegan was surprised at the boy's ferocity. Alden was rarely so angry. "You've been gone a week! Your family is miserable. You come here looking like that, with a pirate brand on your arm that apparently was just done, and won't say a word." He shook his head incredulously. "What happened?" Keegan growled and snatched the rag from Alden's grip. "Fine, I'll do it myself." Alden began to object, but the boldness that had impassioned him just moments before vanished. He meekly watched as Keegan struggled to tie the rag around his wrist one-handed. Of course Keegan couldn't do it, and the longer he struggled the more frustrated he became. He pinned the rag against his leg, which made him whimper and cringe as he applied pressure to the burn. Alden was amazed to see tears start to leak from the older boy's eyes. He had never seen Keegan cry before, from physical or emotional pain. "I'll do it," he mumbled and took Keegan's arm again. He silently tied the rag around the burn after applying a little more rum. He pretended not to see Keegan's winces and tears or hear his sniffles. Once he was done he brought his hands back and set them in his lap. For a few moments he looked at Keegan's feet, then up into his face. "I'll tell you later," Keegan croaked, swallowing hard and rolling his sleeve back down. He'd yet to look Alden in the eye. "I promise I will, all right? I need to get home now." He stood up, tottering to one side and using the wall to steady himself. Alden stood up with him, his expression clouded with confusion and suspicion. He said nothing as Keegan turned back to the wall, hauled himself over with a pained groan, then disappeared from sight. After a few moments. "See you, Al," Keegan said from the other side of the wall. "Yeah," Alden murmured in reply. "See you, Keegan." |
 |
 
|
| Keegan McAllister | 20 Dec 2007, 08:11 PM Post #2 |
|
Foot-in-Mouth Disease
|
After leaving Alden's tavern, Keegan tried his best to sneak his way back home. Around the docks he wasn't so cautious, but as he neared the street the McAllisters lived on he became much quieter. He didn't look at all like he belonged there, and he half expected someone to grab him and shove him back for the docks. Then he realized he had no reason to be skulking about. This was his home. No one could throw him out of there. So why was he being so sneaky? He understood why when he ducked behind a house as someone came up the street. It was John and Robin, probably returning from their tutor's house. Keegan watched them with a mix of terror and excitement. All he had to do was cross the street and he would be there in front of them. They would hug him and bring him home to his family; he could sleep in security and bathe away the impurities he'd garnered from his trip. But then they would ask where he'd been, why his arm was bandaged, what had happened to him. Then Keegan knew why he was hiding. He was ashamed. When he was on Beckett's ship he only wanted to be home. Now that he was home, he was afraid of it. What would his family say once he told them the truth? He had avowed to tell them everything, to stop all the lies he'd been spreading, but doing so would ruin everything. They wouldn't trust him anymore. He would have no future. And with this brand on his arm, he couldn't do anything. His own father could disown him for his lies and impudence and stupidity. Keegan's greatest fear in life had always been losing his family, and now it might very well happen because of his own idiotic choices. John and Robin were nearly to their house. Upon a closer look, Keegan could see both boys were depressed. Robin was chattering, but it was only for John's benefit, and the young boy's voice held no cheer. Keegan realized that he might lose his family after returning, but he couldn't run away and force them to live with not knowing. They deserved to know the truth, even if it would ruin Keegan's life. He took a deep, shaky breath, then moved from the shadow of the building and walked carefully across the street. There were few people around, as it was the middle of the day and the area was primarily residential. John and Robin were the only ones in immediate proximity, so when they saw someone striding up to them their eyes were instantly drawn to that person. For a few moments their faces were blank and puzzled. Keegan stopped walking a few feet from them, waiting. John's face was the first to clear with recognition. "KEEGAN!" he shrieked and dropped the books he'd been carrying as he launched himself at his older brother. Robin followed suit and Keegan hugged them both as hard as he could. It had only been a week, but he was sure John was taller. Robin looked older too, but he was crying now and it ruined the image. "Kee, where h-have you been?" Robin warbled once the three of them had pulled away. "We...We were re-really worried about you!" "Are you all right?" John asked in a breathless voice. He seemed on the verge of tears as well, though Keegan could see a seriously contemplative stare behind the young boy's happy eyes. "I'm fine," Keegan murmured, smiling a little. No tears of relief or happiness sprung from his eyes. He was too afraid of what might happen next. "Uhm...Is everyone home?" John began pulling him inside, and Robin wouldn't let go of his hand. The hand he was grasping was the one with the pirate brand right above it. Keegan could feel it spark in pain, but he ignored it for now. He only hoped Robin didn't push up his sleeve. "Well, Da's at the store," John answered as he opened the front door, his voice still breathless with disbelief. "Rose and Priscilla are at their houses, obviously, but they'll want to know you're safe. Abigail's at a luncheon somewhere. I know they'll all run home once they know you're back." Keegan pulled his hand sharply from Robin's grip and stopped moving, making both of the younger boys turn to stare at him quizzically. Robin's gaze looked particularly hurt. "What's wrong Keegan?" John mumbled. "You look mad." Keegan blinked in surprise, then cleared the glare that had sprung up on his face. He hadn't even realized it. "I'm not mad," he replied, looking slowly around the entrance area. "I'm just...." Afraid. "Tired," he finished. "And I need a bath." "No kidding," John laughed, attempting to lighten the serious pall Keegan's attitude had placed over his homecoming. He gingerly reached out and pulled Keegan into the parlor, opening the door to almost everyone in the family. Keegan felt his heart stop as his mother, Joanne, Evelyn, Amelia, George, and their maid Mary lifted their eyes. Even the family cat looked surprised to see him. For a moment things were quiet, then shrieks and screams of joy struck the air and Keegan was swept into the embrace of everyone in the room (sans cat). He was passed around several times, mostly between his mother, Joanne, and Mary. Everyone asked him the same questions: Where have you been? Are you all right? What happened to you? Once the passing around had stopped, Keegan found himself tight against his mother's bosom. It was starting to get uncomfortable. He knew she meant well, but he pushed against her all the same, and eventually she relinquished her hold on him. He sighed, dropping his arms and looking at the ground. "I'll tell everyone everything," he mumbled, swallowing hard. "But first I want to take a bath." "Goodness, yes, you reek! I hate to imagine where you've been," his mother clucked. She waved a hand for Mary to follow her and the two of them brought out the bathing tub. They carried it to the bedroom Keegan shared with Robin and John, filling it with hot water warmed from the kitchen fire. Soon the tub was full of steaming water and Keegan was ready to jump in. He had nearly stripped his shirt over his head when he turned and saw John and Robin standing nearby. His mother and Mary had at least had the decency to leave him alone. "Could you leave?" he asked them. John and Robin looked at him in surprise. Robin dolefully walked over to the door, but John stood where he was, sitting on the bed he shared with Robin. "Even me?" he murmured. "Yes," Keegan snapped. "Get out, would you? Don't you have people to notify? I don't want to have to tell the story more than once," he grumbled, whipping his shirt off and dropping it on the floor. John moved over to the door, left open by Robin. He stopped walking and stared at his older brother. "What happened to your arm?" "I got cut, now get out," Keegan growled. John scowled at him, then stomped out and slammed the door behind him. Keegan mellowed only when he was sure John had left, then sighed and began unbuttoning his breeches. He kicked them off and they landed by his shirt, but there was another sound that made Keegan stop before he stepped into the bath. A little metallic chink. He snatched up his breeches and out came the little silver coin. Ever since he stepped off the Endeavor he'd forgotten about it. Seeing the coin struck him for a few moments. It bounced twice on the floor before settling. The song that Jack had taught him began resonating in his head, and the memories came back as well. It had all happened; it wasn't a dream. Keegan picked up the coin and placed it in the drawer of his side table, next to the bejeweled dagger that had started everything. Then, finally, he slipped into the bath and began scrubbing every inch of himself with the cloth that had been left there. He had only just cleaned one leg before someone stepped inside his room again. "Would you please just--" He stopped when he saw it was his mother. She had a clean shirt in her hands, which she deposited on one of the beds. There was an odd look on her face, something Keegan had never seen. "Do you need anything?" she said, taking a step toward him. "No," he snapped. "I'm fine." She frowned a little bit. "Perhaps I could just clean your hair. It looks--" "No, Mum, I'm fine," Keegan barked. "Just...leave me alone. I can do it myself." He continued scrubbing his legs and feet, his face burning with shame. Talking back to his parents was not something he did often, and it hurt him to do it now. He wasn't even sure why he was snapping at everyone. His mother left without a word, closing the door behind her. Keegan sighed and slumped back against the tub. The water was already a very muddy brown, and he'd only scrubbed his legs. |
|
|
|
| Keegan McAllister | 20 Dec 2007, 08:13 PM Post #3 |
|
Foot-in-Mouth Disease
|
The long white shirt Keegan wore was warm and clean. After he'd bathed he slipped into it and sunk onto his bed, bringing his knees up and hugging them to his chest. He tried to stay awake since he knew people were coming to see him. It had been a mistake to sit on his bed, the first soft piece of furniture his body had touched in days. He didn't lie down, but he did lean against the wall his bed was pushed up against. His head lolled onto his knees and he was asleep in an instant. He hadn't been asleep very long before someone knocked on the door. His head snapped up and he blearily saw John enter the room with hesitant steps. "Keegan, you done?" he murmured. "Everyone's downstairs, even Ben and Giles." For a few moments Keegan was silent, then he stood from the bed, stumbling a little from exhaustion as he moved. He nodded and crawled to the door, yawning so wide his jaw cracked. John moved ahead of him a few steps, then waited until Keegan caught up, and then moved ahead again. He was like a little crab, scuttling out of danger when it got too close. Keegan cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I snapped at you John," he mumbled, his eyes on the floor as he reached the steps. John waved his hand through the air. "It's all right. Must've been some trip. Tortuga can't be an easy place to stop." Keegan's foot slipped and he tumbled down several steps, nearly knocking John down with him. His mind wasn't on the pain in his legs or bottom though, it was focused on what John just said. He stared outright at his little brother, his face white. "You...You knew?" John pressed his lips together in a guilty way as he helped Keegan to his feet. That tumble was loud and would surely be heard by everyone in the crowded parlor. "I did some investigating while you were gone," he mumbled. "I was really worried, and no one knew what happened to--" "How much investigating?" Keegan asked. The brand on his arm, still bandaged and covered by his sleeve, itched noticeably and sparked with pain. Surely John didn't know about that, did he? The younger boy shrugged. "I just went down to the docks a couple days ago, even went on the Daunt--" "KEEGAN!" John and Keegan both flinched as Rose's shriek pierced their ears. She rushed up the stairs in a bustle of fabric and lace and nearly tackled Keegan to the ground. Immediately she began to sob. Any words she wanted to say were garbled. For such a frail woman she had a surprisingly vice-like grip. Giles showed up and pried her off, giving Keegan a warm smile and a clap on the shoulder in greeting. Ben and Priscilla followed suit, though Priscilla was slightly less emotional and Ben slightly more physical in their reunions. "Stand aside, let me see my son!" Keegan's throat closed up and goosebumps suddenly riddled his entire body. Samuel pushed his way through the group of family members and stopped at the base of the stairs. He planted his hands on his hips and grinned at Keegan. "You have a lot of explaining to do, young man," he announced. "We're all waiting to hear it. Come down here right now." Keegan carefully descended the last three steps and was wrapped into his father's arms. Samuel squeezed him tightly, and Keegan felt guilty as he hugged him back. Would his father be so excited about him once he knew what his oldest son had done? Samuel led Keegan into the parlor, which was crammed with the entire family. Abigail hustled over to hug him and give him a quick kiss on the forehead, then bade him sit in one of the chairs. Samuel and Martha were the only other ones to have chairs. Everyone else had to stand or sit on benches or the floor. Robin and Amelia crowded excitedly around Keegan's legs, like he was about to tell them a bedtime story. John sat down on a small stool next to Keegan's chair. "Now, tell us what happened to you," Ben asked. "Where have you been?" Keegan looked at everyone's face, amazed they were all smiling at him. Except Joanne, and he was sure John wasn't smiling either. He dropped his eyes to his lap, his hands on either side of him gripping the armrests. "I went to Tortuga." He didn't have to look up to know that everyone's smile vanished from their faces. A very heavy silence overcame the family, and Keegan could feel thirteen pairs of eyes boring into his body as they all absorbed this information. "Tor...tuga?" Martha squeaked. "Why the devil were you on Tortuga?" Giles asked. Keegan bit his bottom lip and reached up to cover his eyes. "It's a very long story," he said, hating how his voice cracked in the middle of it. "Rose, do you remember that time me and Robin and John showed up at your house, and me and Rob especially were scratched up?" Rose blinked. "That was almost a year ago," she breathed wondrously. Keegan nodded, keeping his eyes covered. "We didn't get hurt from falling on the rocks, not really. Robin fell into a blowhole, and me and John went out to get him. I was running and that's why my feet were so messed up. Me and John couldn't reach him though, and had to call on someone else for help. There was--" "Jack!" Robin peeped, his somber face brightening into a smile. "Jack helped us!" "Jack?" asked Samuel. "Jack who?" "Sparrow," Joanne warningly grumbled, her narrowed eyes on Keegan's face. He quailed under her gaze and nodded in affirmation. Everyone in the room burst into questions. "Sparrow?" "Jack Sparrow?" "The pirate? How did you meet him?" "You must be joking." "He's not!" John suddenly interjected. "I was there too! It was Jack Sparrow!" He grimaced and slouched on his seat, his fingers wrestling with each other. "He helped us rescue Rob, but then he stole Keegan's dagger. And it's my fault." "No it's not," Keegan mumbled, turning to look at his brother. "Your dagger?" Samuel interrupted, his voice hard. "The one I got for your birthday?" Keegan swallowed with difficulty, nodded his head, and turned back to stare at his lap. "Yes." Samuel was silent for a few moments. "But I've seen it since then. Your mother saw it in your side table drawer." Keegan grimaced. He'd have to find a better hiding place for the coin if his mother went snooping through his things. "I got it back." "Jack just gave it to you?" Ben doubtfully suggested. "I've seen that dagger, Keegan, a pirate wouldn't just give it back." "He didn't," Keegan snapped. "I had to do something for him. There--" "Do something?" Abigail squawked. "What on earth did you do?" "Stop interrupting," John commanded, sitting up straight and glaring at just about everyone. "Keegan can't tell us what happened if we keep stopping him. No more until he's done." The family grumbled in agreement, and Keegan took a deep breath to begin his tale. "There's a compass...." |
|
|
|
| Keegan McAllister | 20 Dec 2007, 08:16 PM Post #4 |
|
Foot-in-Mouth Disease
|
Keegan felt like he was in a partial daze as he recounted his adventure to Tortuga and back. His eyes were unseeing and his voice pitch hardly changed. He was staring at a spot on the floor between Robin and Amelia, who were both wide-eyed with shock. Everyone else had similar expressions of incredulity on their faces. Sometime during his story George fell asleep in Martha's arms, but no one noticed the baby. All eyes were on the curly-haired boy who spoke monotonously of his near-death experiences. Keegan was too tired to listen to his own voice, and if he had, he knew he would have been just as surprised as everyone else to know he was standing there alive. He didn't leave anything out up until the point where he left the fort. Deciding he couldn't face the shame or consequences of it, he didn't tell anyone about the brand on his arm. No one but John had noticed it before, and after the adventure Keegan had just described, the little brother was glad that Keegan had returned with only a little cut, and it left his mind completely after that. "The commodore let me leave, but I will have to go see him again tomorrow," Keegan finished. "I came home after seeing him, and that's that." For several moments the only sound was George's steady breathing. Everyone was pale and horrified, but the first voice to sound wasn't the one Keegan had been expecting. "You struck Lord Cutler Beckett?" Giles said in a very weak voice. Keegan's exhausted hazel eyes refocused and turned to his brother-in-law. His expression remained completely blank, though underneath he was starting to worry. All that he'd said and explained and admitted to, and that was the thing Giles focused on? Keegan knew it was a bad thing that he'd tried to kill the man, but after all he'd said he expected to have a little empathy from his family. "Yes...." Giles stared at Keegan for several moments, his hands gripping the back of the chair Rose was sitting on. More chairs had had to be brought from the dining room as Keegan continued to tell his tale. He knew Rose had begun to feel faint as soon as he mentioned the blackmail. Giles was beginning to look a little faint himself. "But...his lordship...." "Is a blackguard," Keegan said. Giles' face suddenly twisted with anger and he hobbled around Rose's chair. Ben suddenly stood up to help him but Giles shoved him away, his eyes intent on Keegan as he stopped and gripped the mantel for support. He towered over Keegan's chair. "Be that as it may," he hissed with a cautionary glance toward one of the windows, "Lord Beckett has much more power than you realize. He can ruin everything, Keegan, everything for me, Ben, even your father. We're all involved in trade. It's getting bad enough without you giving the man a wallop!" Keegan's passive face slowly changed into something like disgust. "He deserved it." "He can easily pinpoint Samuel's connection to you," Giles grumbled, ignoring Keegan's excuse. "It would only be a matter of time before he came after the Taylors. I don't like the man either but his tactics for getting rid of piracy do seem to be effective and--" "TACTICS?!" Keegan screeched, jumping from his chair and giving Giles a hearty push. He was too tired for it to be as effective as it would be, but the man stumbled backwards into Abigail's seat nevertheless. "You AGREE with what he did to ME?!" Giles quickly picked himself up from Abigail's lap. "No, Keegan, I only said--" "You LIKE that he used BLACKMAIL and KIDNAPPING to achieve his ends?!" "No, Keegan, but--" "Enough!" Samuel bellowed, standing and grabbing Keegan by the shoulder, as the boy looked ready to resort to fists. He forced Keegan back into his chair and waved Giles to his previous spot behind Rose. "What's done is done, and arguing won't help. What Keegan did was reprehensible, but so were Lord Beckett’s actions." He sighed and scratched at his hair. White powder flakes fell to his shoulders. Martha stood up and clapped her hands together, startling everyone in the room. "Time for dinner, I think. Joanne, take George, thank you dear. Keegan, go upstairs and rest and I'll bring supper to you later. Giles, I think you and Ben should go home. We all know Keegan is safe and sound now, so there is no more need for worry." ----- Despite his exhaustion, Keegan couldn't fall asleep again. He sat on his bed, his arms around his legs and his head resting against his knees. His eyes were open and looking straight ahead into nothingness. The silence around him was odd and disturbing. His house was usually so full of laughing and talking and crying and stomping. Now he could feel the somber hearts of his family weighing down any noise. He only heard George cry out for attention a couple times, and even those weren't as loud as usual. The knock at the door violently roused him. Martha walked in with a plate of food in her arms, the smell wafting to Keegan and reminding him that not only was he tired, he was ravenous. It had been hours since he'd eaten, and days since he'd eaten anything good. But while his stomach rumbled and begged for nourishment, Keegan found he had no appetite. "Thank you Mum," he murmured, watching as she placed the plate as well as a glass of wine on his side table. She turned from the table and stood in front of Keegan's bed, her hands holding each other. He could feel her stare, but couldn't meet her gaze. His eyes stayed fixed on the food. "Keegan?" she said, but he didn't reply. He only continued staring at his dinner plate, watching the steam waft into the air. Then she sat next to him on the mattress, facing him. He could smell her perfume, as well as the scent of fire from cooking and wax from candles. She rested a hand on his arm, one hugging his legs to him, the one with the brand. The placement of her touch wasn't extraordinary, but the feel of it was. Even before his absence Keegan had brushed off his mother's affections, pushing her hands away or ignoring them altogether. He felt they were annoying and something only children received, and he was trying so hard to be an adult. Adults didn't have their mothers fawning over them and straightening hats or smoothing down hair. For the past couple of years Keegan had been ignoring her touch. He thought she only really cared about advancing their status among the community, that that was the only reason she fussed over his appearance and clicked her tongue when he came home dirtied and scraped. He had shoved it away so much in disdain and annoyance that he forgot what it truly felt like. It was soft and warm and welcoming and comforting. It was what home felt like. She was his mother, and he would only have one in his entire life. He wanted to be his own person, but he realized he wasn't being an adult by shoving his mother away from him. "Keegan?" she murmured again. He suddenly found it was difficult to talk, and his tongue stumbled around in his mouth. His voice came out very rough and thick. "What?" For a few moments she was silent. Keegan wondered if he was supposed to look at her before she continued, but he couldn't bear to see her face. What if she was angry or disappointed? Finally she spoke. "Your birthday is coming up in a few days. Would you like to have a cake?" Keegan had forgotten all about his birthday, and the mention of something so normal and mundane as making a cake was out of place. He turned to look at his mother in confusion, then saw her face. She was smiling at him, genuine and warm and proud. "You'll be thirteen you know," she continued, patting his arm. "You're practically a man now." Before he could stop himself Keegan moved his arms from his legs and brought his hands to cover his eyes. Tears had sprung as soon as he saw his mother's smiling face, and once she'd stopped speaking they began gushing. Soon he was sobbing into his hands, rocking back and forth on the bed. Martha reached over and pulled him against her in a tight embrace. The touch only made him cry harder, and he buried his face against her and clutched her apron like a child. Martha held him close and began rocking back and forth. She stroked his hair and hummed a lullaby as her oldest son of almost thirteen years continued weeping against her. And Keegan knew that his mother, at the very least, had forgiven him. |
|
|
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · Port Royal · Next Topic » |
4:04 AM Jul 30
