InsaneJournal

I Was Down Among the Dying and the Crying at Jericho...
Who: Cuthbert and Rufus
When: Day after Asgard's new arrivals
Where: Looking Glass Lake
Ratings: R for Bert's language
Warnings: Language
Summary: The reality of exactly what's happened to him hits Bert, and he slips away from Asgard to try and get his thoughts in order.



The discovery of the barn had been a pleasant one for Bert. Finding out he had a pick of the horses inside was even better.

He'd spent the evening before exploring the mansion proper, discovering television, and spending a few sleepless hours in the dark trying to adjust to a new and unfamiliar room. He'd chalked a circle around his bed to keep out demons and evil spirits, but there were no Guardians to watch over him, no banners of Gilead to give him strength and comfort. He'd have to fix that as soon as he could.

After breakfast – wolfed down while heading out to explore the grounds – he'd found his guns, and then the barn.

As he picked out a handsome dust colored stallion and began tacking the beast, he decided he really was feeling more like himself now. His guns were strapped to his hips, he was full of proper food, and he'd had a good night's sleep. He'd even managed to make himself a fast friend, which he thanked Gan for.

Now he needed to make his amends and remember the face of his father. He'd thought a great deal last night, as he lay in bed trying to find sleep. On friends lost and gone and newly made, on the will of Gan and the wheel of ka, on his own failings and sins and the cruel irony of this second chance he'd been given.

Besides all of that, he just needed some time away from the strange and sometimes scary machines of Asgard and these people who were ka-mates but not ka-tet.

He rode out on his fine new mount – dubbed Jerky almost immediately – and headed north. He'd explore the town later, when he felt better equipped to deal with other people. And the woods looked unspoiled and lush, something that called to him after so long on the wasted fields by Jericho.

It was nice to ride under the late summer sun, greenery around him and the vaulting sky above. This was a world that had not moved on, a place like Gilead had once been when Bert was only a small lad. It was good to ride through sun dappled woods that smelled only of nature and life.

But bittersweet, as he rode alone and he knew full well that neither Roland nor Alain would ever ride with him again. For all that he knew, he was the only Gunslinger left drawing breath. He wondered what his friends would think of this place. He imagined Roland would be stunned speechless – Roland who didn't believe in anything but ka, and who dismissed any stories of the Ancients as just stories. Alain...well, that was a tricksy one, wasn't it? And thinking about Alain still hurt too much.

Now, in the morning, he wondered if he should have said something to Alessa about that. She'd shared so much of herself with him, after all. But he just wasn't ready. It had only been a few short weeks. He couldn't even think on it to himself, how could he speak of his greatest sin to another? Especially her. And what would he say? ”While we're trading stories, by the way, I gunned down my best friend in our own camp! Nope, he wasn't a traitor or anything, it just sort of happened!” No, he didn't think so.

Bert urged Jerky into a smooth canter, and then urged the horse on faster still. He couldn't outrun his own memories, but the attention it took to guide and control the horse helped to ease his mind. He rode on through the forest land until he came to a lake, and then reigned the horse in. The lands here were beautiful, unspoiled by The Great Poisoning as so much of In-World had been.

The lake seemed a quiet place, and Bert was (for the time being) alone there. He untacked Jerky and set to him graze as he would, then sat himself down at the edge of the water. He grabbed a handful of stones and skipped them across the surface of the lake, letting his mind settle itself until he found a sense of peace.