|Once Jack, now Will. (jumpingpast) wrote in bellumlogs,|
@ 2010-08-06 13:50:00
|Entry tags:||beauty, jack of all tales|
Who: Will Moran and Ella Gainsborough
What: Saying goodbye. But not in person. That's for wussies.
Where: Their respective locations while talking over the phone.
When: A week before the masquerade.
Warnings: Most likely none, save swearing.
Once Will woke up from his illnesses and injuries in the hospital, he wasted no time in demanding to be let out like the cranky little bastard he was. Instead due to the damage he done to himself through the wondrous means of alcohol, not only had it taken longer for him to recover, he was forced onto medication and pamphlets for a rehab program. Will left the hospital feeling weak and sick, with a strange emptiness and freedom that he couldn't figure out which one started. Despite the doctor's severe recommendation, Will chose to go back to his apartment instead. If it wasn't for the Antabuse, he would have tried to clean his apartment out and fill himself with whiskey. Instead, he reached for his cell and called a number that one time in his past was very familiar.
Ella has settled into a quiet, two story apartment building in Nassau Bay, Texas. Her studio apartment opens onto the waterfront, and it’s about as un-Bellum Letale as a place could be; she chose it for that very reason. She can't grow anything yet; physical therapy is very much a reality in her life, but the apartment is filled with purchased flowers and books. It's a place she's never lived before and she chose it for that reason alone. She's heard from Daniel, but she still hasn't had the willpower to turn in the key to 90s, and so she remembers everything and has forgotten nothing about her life. When the phone rings, she picks it up without thinking (she's working as a editor again, and she's due a call from her writer).
"I'm missing chapter five," she says, without wasting time on a greeting. The book should have been to the publisher three days ago, and she hates missing deadlines.
Will blinked and paused before coming up with an answer, definitely not what he was expecting to hear from her. "I think you were expecting someone else. Happy to disappoint," he snarked, but it was without bite.
"William?" she asked incredulously. If there was one person in the universe she wasn't expecting to hear from, it was him. Immediately: "Who died?" As if that was the only reason he would call her.
Now at that, he laughed. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to disappoint again, no one's dead." He stopped, wondering exactly how much of what he was going to say next she would even believe. "It's more of a friendly call."
"I'm clearly dreaming then, and I demand you leave my slumber immediately," she said, but she sounded incredulous, and he sounded sober. "I didn't realize you even had this number still, William," she said, voice softening into something familiar and caring. "Now, tell me the truth. What's wrong?"
"If I called you a damn nosy woman, would you realize it's not a dream?" Argh, there was that William crap again. Whatever. He'd let it slide this time. "Can't a guy call his ex girlfriend out of the blue for no reason in particular?"
"When said guy has gone out of his way to avoid said ex-girlfriend as if she were a tax collector? It's hardly the norm, William. Unless, of course, you're calling to tell me you were worried about me. In which case, I'll immediately assume you've grown as an individual." She paused, her voice going soft again. "Tell me. What is it? You're worrying me, you realize? I demand you stop before I'm required to inform you that I still care about your well being. You'd hardly want that, would you?"
The sonorous sound of Will's laughed could be heard over the phone. "I guess I deserve that." He still didn't respond right away as he was also trying to fight every fiber of his being . He didn't really want to do this but he needed to. "I...just got out of the hospital, and was, well, checking. To make sure you're not dead."
Her tone immediately went serious and worried. "What happened?" And then, before he could answer, "and don't you dare sarcasm at me, William. I mean it. What happened?"
He sighed. "I've been in the hospital ever since the time traveling bullshit and have been booze free as well. When we got separated, I got..." his teeth gritted. "Worried. About you."
She went quiet when he said he was booze free. Entirely and completely quiet. "You really haven't been drinking?" she asked, and then a moment later. "And you were worried? About me?" She sounded like life might have just become too confusing to comprehend, and she could be heard sitting down on a noisy chair. "William, what happened?"
"Jesus fucking Christ," he muttered loud enough to hear. "Next time I do something like this I'll pretend to be hopped up on painkillers so you can blame that instead." Will eyerolled. "Sometimes, Ella, a person wakes up and realizes they're 35 and in Russia in whatever-the-fuck time that was. Sometimes they actually get scared and realize they got no fucking friends whatsoever and that's all they got to show for life, and the only person who might actually care is someone he fucked over once." There was a groan from his end of the call. "Sometimes, an asshole may be calling to admit the girl on the other end was right about him. Even when he didn't believe it."
She went completely and totally quiet for a good half minute. "You're serious," she said softly, and it wasn't a question; it was a statement. He was serious. She smiled then, and there was a touch of a sniffle that she would write off as allergies if he asked about it. "And, for the record, William, you don't have 'no fucking friends whatsoever.' Some of us are too stubborn to run away when pushed." She smiled. "I think I'd very much like to get to know the person I'm talking to right now, even if he does groan at me." She paused then, went quiet for a minute. "Russia was bad. Beauty saw Daniel and Jane in the kitchen, and she went and got us burned half to death. I've been in a burn clinic for weeks, and now I'm finally out. Don't worry, just my hands; nothing terribly disfiguring," she assured quickly, not sure how he would react to that. "Are you okay? Sober, yes, but okay?" She smiled. "And I was right," she adds smugly.
"Yeah yeah remind me not to mention that ever again," he grumbled. "Suppose it couldn't hurt to try...being friends. If that's alright with you." He scratched his chin. "Glad you made it out okay then, considering." The truth tasted a bit like a cocktail of aspirin and the shitty candy left out in the dishes at restaurants. "After we got separated, some of the guards saw me and yanked me off to the kitchen which was just awesome. Then I got sick as hell and last thing I remember was passing out on the dirty-ass floor and then somehow I'm back here. So yeah, I'm peachy." He groaned. "I didn't say you could rub it in."
There was a smile in her voice when she answered. "I'm allowed to have a little pleasure from your misery, William. It can't be helped."
He snorted in response. "I'll let it go just this once." Will switched his phone between hands. "Look I gotta go. I'll talk to you later, yeah?"
"Yeah," she said, soft and fond. "Take care of yourself, William."
He hung up, feeling oddly lighter and confused all the same.