Who: Killian Jones and Robert and Rosalind Lutece Where: Killian's boat What: drinking, talking about dreams When: 12/17, nighttime Warnings/Rating: PG-13 for disturbing imagery and a fight between twins Status complete
It seemed about time that his dreams offered something that wasn’t oppressively depressing. Recently, his dreams had featured a woman -- Milah -- and instead of just plundering and stealing and sailing and drinking, they were about a woman he’d loved. It was nice, to be able to dream and see her curly hair and her warm eyes. Killian had not felt love in a very long time, and it was nice to remember the way it felt, like standing in the sunshine. Love in a dream wasn’t quite the same, but it was better than nothing.
When he’d woken to a tattoo of a woman he’d never actually met on his arm, he was torn between amused and proud. Milah was quite deserving of such a mark. Of course, he seemed to keep the Luteces updated on every change in his dreams, and they’d never gotten around to seeing the sextant. So why not? He’d invited them down to the boat, and he hoped the scholars could manage it without a sneer. Maybe he’d take them out and see how they liked fishing… Or not, but it was a funny idea.
The Luteces arrived at the dock in a smart car which was just big enough for both of them. They spoke to each other rapidly as they approached the boat. Despite the fact that they were going to be on a fishing boat and probably drinking the pair were still well dressed, with Rosalind in heeled boots and both in semi-matching suits.
Rosalind waved at Killian when she spotted him. His boat was smaller than she’s expected, with him living on it and all.
Robert went onto the dock first, to make sure he spotted any hazards that might trip Rosalind up.
Well, darling, it wasn’t meant to be a yacht! No, his vessel wasn’t massive, and his cabin was not impressive, but he liked it all the same. He did offer the fairer Lutece slight salute in greeting as she spotted him. So much for toning it down, he was really shit at that, wasn’t he?
“Be careful, now, would hate to have to dive in after you,” he told Robert as he made his way onto the deck. Killian might have made a joke that he’d have been happy to dive in after Rosalind but that probably wasn’t wise. “Did you find it all right?”
Robert made sure that Rosalind managed to get across okay, and she smiled gratefully at both of them. She was resolved to be okay with everything. She liked Killian too much to let a crush get in the way of that.
“We had no trouble finding the place.” Robert said with a smile as he looked around. He watched his sister’s reactions, to make sure she was okay. This would be touchy until they all relaxed again.
“The traffic was the worst part, really.” Rosalind noted, smiling a Killian. “I hope you’re doing well?” She asked, strolling along the deck to look around. She’d never been on a fishing boat before.
“I’ve been worse,” and the answer was genuine. He’d been a little out of sorts after coming to the revelation that he might wake up one of these days without a hand. There wasn’t a lot to look forward to in that idea. Still, the real answer to the improved mood was, “I’ve had a few dreams that aren’t so terrible, you know, compared to the shitty ones I had before.” The one with Liam had not been so bad, but the rest; being abandoned, watching Liam poisoned, dealing with Pan, watching his brother die… yes, none of those had been particularly enjoyable.
“Suppose you’ll want to see the item I got from my dream?” He said, quirking a dark brow towards his hairline. The pirate was far too good at that. The boat was not large, nor spectacular; but it was clean and well maintained, despite its age. Killian did care about the craft, that was obvious in how he cared for it. “In fact, I’ve got two now, technically… depending on how you’d like to consider it.” In fact, the second item was a rather bad sign if he did end up losing a hand in his dreams, but he was trying not to dwell on that.
The Luteces nodded sympathetically about his crappy dreams. Their own were hardly worth mentioning. Robert shuddered a little, and Rosalind rubbed between his shoulders.
“That was quite a lead in.” Rosalind said with a smile.
“Of course we’d like to see your items.” Robert added.
“And we have more dreams to talk about as well.” Rosalind said, to Robert’s surprise. He gave her a shocked look. The last thing he wanted to talk about was buying another human being to give to a man his. . . strange other self didn’t completely trust.
“Luckily, I have alcohol,” and cue nobody being surprised that the Irishman had alcohol! He beckoned them after him, figuring he’d start with the physical item over the tattoo. The Luteces might (wisely) question if he hadn’t just gotten smashed and had the name of a woman he’d never met tattooed onto his skin. His cabin was big enough for all of them, but for their chat they’d probably have to return to the deck. He had some lawn chairs that they could use that he’d already left out on the deck.
Killian kept the sextant in a lockbox, so it did take him a bit to twirl the padlock open. There was a joke to be made about having both Luteces in his bedroom, but he failed to make it. Likely wisely. Once he had the sextant, he placed it, in its case, on his desk. “My brother gave this to me, we needed it to navigate to Neverland. I didn’t get it right away, though … I woke up one day and it was here, on the desk.” He flipped open the lid for them to inspect, before stepping away.
The sextant was actually quite ostentatious looking. Made of gold and studded with a star map made of some sort of clear stone (diamond, perhaps, he hadn’t had the time to check). It would probably sell for quite a bit; However, Jones had no interest in selling it.
The fact he didn’t request the twins be careful was a reflection that he trusted them to be delicate without a reminder.
The pair followed him inside. Robert anticipated needing a drink, so he looked for that first. Rosalind actually paid attention, and was looking at the case when it opened. She gasped, touching it very delicately. "This is incredible." She breathed. It was ostentatious, yes, but it was also finely crafted. She didn't lift it out of the box. She did pull Robert over to look.
He eyed the device, whistling softly. "It's a remarkable sextant." He noted, circling it to see all its sides.
Rosalind snickered once. She was still allowed a moment or two of immaturity. "Can you still use it to get to Neverland?" After learning more about their dream self and Orange County in general she was willing to believe he could.
“A man is usually quite sensitive when a lady laughs at his sextant,” Killian pointed out, tossing Rosalind a grin. Apparently he was not drowning in maturity, either. Her question, though, made him pause.
“It’s hard to say,” and somehow he hadn’t considered that. Mostly because even after only one visit, nothing about Neverland had inspired any desire to return. “After Liam died, I burned the sail we used to get there. It was magical, made the ship fly… Perhaps, with an airplane…” But he trailed off, unsure. He really hadn’t considered it, but it wasn’t impossible, really. Though… “The stars on the sextant don’t match the stars here.” He’d been in a different world at the time; if there was a path to Neverland in this world, the pattern was likely different.
“It’s rather remarkable, isn’t it? Rather audacious, but it was property of the crown. I seized it along with the ship, I suppose that makes it mine now.” Makes it… made it. Whatever. He was starting to identify too strongly with the Killian Jones in his dreams.
The pair nodded. Clearly flying was an important part of the Neverland mythos. “I wouldn’t want to go there, anyway.” Rosalind noted, closing the case carefully.
“It seems a dreadful place.” Robert supplemented. “Where are the drinks again?” He began looking around again. He wasn’t going to say a word about his own dreams until he had a drink in hand and another working its way into his system. He didn’t like to think of them any other way.
Rosalind sighed. “It sounds like we all had some rather difficult dreams this time. You said you have something else to show us?” She was in no mood to get drunk on a boat, but Robert obviously felt differently. She supposed she couldn’t blame him. The dreams didn’t make any of them look good.
The would be pirate gestured toward the ‘kitchen’, which was really a bank of cabinets with a few appliances on top. Robert could find some kind of poison to suit underneath; and there was some lager in the dorm sized fridge near the bed, depending on what he was hoping for. Killian picked up his sextant, expression clearly a little clouded with the memories it represented. Odd how the object could remind him of a brother that wasn’t even in this world and far dead besides, but it did.
Once it was properly stowed away, he rolled up his sleeve to offer his arm for Rosalind to inspect. The tattoo was actually quite intricate, considering the world he’d gotten it in; a heart with a scroll bearing the name Milah. It was a beautiful tattoo, even if the bleeding heart business was a little garish. “I woke up with this, and before you ask, I’m decently certain I didn’t stumble into a tattoo parlor drunk.”
Rosalind touched his arm as gently as she’d touched the sextant. Her fingers were soft and cool, stroking delicately over the tattoo. She realized after a moment that she was potentially making a fool of herself and withdrew her hands, looking up to meet Killian’s eyes. “It’s far too healed for that. You dreamed of this women too, I suppose?” She was as curious about the people he’d met in the dreams as the dreams themselves. They were very indicative of the kind of world he’d come from.
Robert was too busy tracking down drinks and then making a boilermaker for himself to inspect the tattoo. He handed Rosalind a plain beer in a glass, then offered her the bottle of whiskey. She shook her head and sipped her beer. He poured another drink for Killian, handing him the glass and the shot separately. “You’ve gotten quite a lot from these dreams. It must be strange.” Robert noted, after taking a hefty drink.
Rosalind frowned at his behavior, but she wasn’t going to chide him in front of their friend. He had his reasons for it all, but it was still quite unseemly and unlike him. Robert didn’t bother returning her glance. As far as he was concerned she could act as unaffected as she liked, but they’d ruined a man’s life together. He’d need more than a couple drinks to forget that.
Killian Jones was a good Irish boy, so of course he didn't refuse the whiskey. For a drunk, he was particular about his poisons, and the whiskey was quite expensive. Worth the exspense, however. Cheap whiskey was hardly whiskey at all. He hit his back, and let his sleeve drop over the tattoo again. Truthfully, the tattoo appearing had been rather alarming -- the first physical change manifested from his dreams. If he did turn into the infamous Captain Hook, it seemed to be a strong indication he might lose his hand in the waking world, too.
"Not as strange as I'd have thought. I dream of it and then I wake and there it is." And even though they were foreign, they still felt like his.
"Aye, that she is," he agreed with a rather warm smile, compared to the charming but cutting ones he favored usually. Milah offered a lightness and warmth to his dreams. Recently they'd been of a life of piracy. Plenty of olundering, adventures, and being a scoundrel. But it had been an empty life before he found Milah. Stole her, really. "I'll tell you about her, if you like. Sounds like my dreams are lighter than yours this go round." Robert wasn't a man that drank so strongly, it was a strong tell that their dreams would be uncomfortable conversation for him. "I've some chairs on the deck if you like." Space was limited in the cabin.
"That will be more comfortable, I think." Rosalind said, collecting her glass and keeping an eye on Robert. She led the way out, beginning her overcoat as she went. It was a beautifully clear night. She looked up at the stars as she found her seat.
"I can't imagine they'd be more strange, anyway." Robert noted. He followed his sister out, sparing a momentary glance upward. If every star was a sun a billion miles away, was there one for every universe? Or were they all dangling on strings, suspended above the world they dreamed of, close enough to touch but impossibly far away? Had any real version of him done the things in the dreams?
"I'm sure there could be stranger dreams." Rosalind said, turning her attention back to her brother.
Killian tugged the bottle of whiskey along after them, just in case one of the party wanted a little more. If anything, he’d drink it. Putting back whiskey was one of his limited skills. The stars were lovely, and he’d always loved staring at the sky and imagining what it might be like to be close to them. It was strange that he looked at the stars now and was perplexed, looking for stars and constellations that didn’t exist in this world.
“A strange dream competition… I’m not sure it’d be possible to judge that.” Strange was rather personal, wasn’t it? What he considered strange was likely different than what the Luteces found strange… and so on, and so forth. In fact, considering how different he was from the twins, it was rather amusing they’d managed to find such a strong sense of camaraderie. The two weren’t meant for a life at sea nor an existence of piracy but all the same the three seemed to get on well. “Who wants to go first? I think my dreams will be the lighter fare of the evening.” It depended on whether the Luteces wanted to start heavy or end heavy. KIllian would be fine either way.
“I need to finish at least one more of these before we talk about Columbia.” Robert noted, raising his glass a bit to indicate what he was talking about. It would be nice to forget his nightmares for a little while, and stop thinking about what they implied about the way the universe and the dreams might work.
Rosalind nodded. “You’ve already half-told yours, anyway.” She didn’t want Killian to forget any details. It wasn’t even about science anymore. She cared about him as a person. He was the kind of person they needed in their lives. He brought them out of their cloister, and instead of carefully scheduled nights out where they drank two pints, went dancing, and went home they had a little bit of adventure.
Start light, end heavy it was. It was strange how he found talking about his dreams easier than talking about his actual past. The Luteces still didn’t know that part of him terribly well at all. Even though his dreams were starting to feel as real as his present, he thus far hadn’t minded talking about them. “Well, at first it was just your normal piracy thing. I traveled through different worlds with my men. We stole things, we took down ships and plundered. Buried treasure. Drowned in taverns and tavern wenches. All very pirate things.” He took a hit of his beer, as he considered how much detail to give.
“Sounds strange, I know, but we went to different worlds. The one I was in the most was the Enchanted Forest. I was born there, I think. But we’d take portals to different worlds, or just sail there. Lots of different places… Agrabah, you know, from Aladin? I went there.” Never met Aladin himself, though. “It was happier than the last few. Piracy suited me.” In fact, it almost felt like he had been waiting to become that man, straining to get out of the straight-laced Naval skin.
“I was back in the Enchanted Forest one night and I met a woman named Milah.” Almost unconsciously, he ran fingers over the tattoo, wondering how much he wanted to talk about her.
It was only fair that Killian not share his past, as they’d shared little of theirs. He didn’t know why they’d left Oxford, or anything about them beyond the superficial, save that they’d once shared a lover and prefered to do so again. It wasn’t a lot to go on, but neither of them thought the past was terribly important in the grand scheme of things.
The pair gave him their attention, save for when they drank (which Robert did more than Rosalind). It was a fascinating story, and shared elements with their own, oddly enough. Rosalind was the first to speak up, after he rubbed his new tattoo. “She meant a lot to you, didn’t she?”
Robert took another shot of whiskey when he finished his beer, drinking it straight this time. Maybe if he drank enough he’d stop hearing Booker demanding his daughter back, and he’d be able to forget the image of the little girl screaming after losing part of her pinky. He wanted to fill the black pit of regret with as much alcohol as possible.
Killian noted how quickly Robert was putting back alcohol, which was new from their interactions previously. It was funny how an alcoholic could worry about someone drinking too much. Still, it wasn’t his place to say anything, and he knew full well how these dreams could get under one’s skin, inescapable and unbearable.
“She didn’t at first. Just a beautiful woman in a tavern, whinging about her husband being a coward. Said cowardly husband showed up and begged she come home, and she was saucy and told him no.” He shouldn’t look amused, remembering it, but Milah had been so strong and confident. She didn’t give a shit what her sniveling husband wanted, and he’d admired that. So many women in the Enchanted Forest lived under their husbands heel and did not deviate.
“Her boy was just outside, though, and called her back. They all left, and that should have been the end of it, but…” He frowned, because this particular part of his story with Milah was not the most commendable. “She begged I take her away. Said she was lonely and trapped and miserable. And even though I knew about her son, I granted her voyage.” Maybe not the wisest, and certainly selfish, but he’d been a selfish, stupid man, so it made sense. “Her husband tried to come win her back and I made as if I’d abducted her to save face in the town. I told him if he could best me in a duel, I’d let her go. Told him a man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.” Killian frowned and turned icy eyes on his far-too-empty drink. “He didn’t even pick up the sword.”
Rumpelstiltskin had not deserved Milah, clearly. He should have fought for her. Still… Killian could not feel vindicated in tearing a mother away from her son. He’d been abandoned, he knew what it felt like.
While Killian spoke Robert made a motion to get another drink. Rosalind frowned and turned toward him, placing her legs across his lap. They exchanged glances, and Robert sat back in his chair with a huff. He knew he was behaving badly, but he felt a desperate need to be drunk. It wasn’t just the bad memories, there was something else as well.
Rosalind did her best to pay attention to Killian, her expression inscrutable. Between Killian’s story and her brother’s behaviour she was remembering why she’d developed a dislike for people. She did have to give the woman Milah a small amount of credit. She’d found a way out of her situation, even if it was intolerable. “Is that where they end, or do you know if she was happy traveling with you?” She wondered what that would be like for a moment. To be truly free of expectations, schedules, and peer reviews. To just do things as the whim struck.
It was an amusing fantasy, but that was all.
Robert was sulking a little in his seat, toying with his empty shot glass.
Killian had not missed the look Rosalind had sent her brother but after dropping some whiskey in the drained beer glass for himself he set it on the deck where Robert could reach it if he pleased. Some things were easier to face with a little liquor.
"She was happy." He had seen a lot of his travels with Milah. Knew they had been good, that she had enjoyed escaping the dull and constraining life she had been trapped in. The heart was a rather strong tell, but Killian added, "She only meant for it to be a short trip, but ... We fell in love. She was intoxicating, the way she could look at me like I meant something. Made me feel a little less empty, more and more until I wasn't empty at all." Love did that, made you feel stronger and whole. And though his sea faring and swashbuckling had been fun, it had been empty. Just as he had been after Roxanna.
"We were happy. But every day the ache, the need to have her son, got a little stronger. So we sailed back to find him." He frowned, but it was more thoughtful than anything. "That's it, for now." He was almost scared to see the end, to know what happened. The pieces all still pointed towards him being Captain Hook. Maybe Milah and the boy were with him ... He hoped so.
Rosalind nodded. “It sounds like you’re all only almost where you want to be.” She remembered vividly what it was like to be in love. His description was nearly perfect. Her expression turned thoughtful as she let herself linger on memories of happier times.
Robert sighed softly. The alcohol was helping him lose himself in those pleasant memories, so different from the ones they were here to discuss. He hoped Rosalind had forgotten. He wasn’t sure he could bear to have someone else know what they’d done.
Rosalind broke out of her reverie fairly quickly and took a sip of her beer. “I hope the dreams resolve themselves in an acceptable manner.”:
He had to give Rosalind a rather weary smile. Killian was not particularly used to anything in his life turning out for the better. Why would his dreams be any different? He just hoped his dreams were done mirroring his life. There was a lot of similarities -- being abandoned, faring for himself, getting mixed into a criminal existence. Falling for a married woman.
He didn't want to lose Milah, even if she was just a dream.
"And the two of you? You can tell me if you like. Recall I'm a wife stealing, plundering, lecherous, murderous bastard." In life and in dreams! "I'm not fit to judge."
Robert reached for the whiskey again, earning him a very sour look from Rosalind. He ignored her pointedly, refusing to look in her direction. She shook her head.
"They're really not that upsetting. I believe we mentioned we were scientists at the end of the nineteenth century, and that we dreamed of separate worlds. Robert went to college in his and I had to take a patron by the name of Zachary Comstock.”
Robert downs his shot while Rosalind talked, and as she went on his expression showed increasing discomfort, but Rosalind wasn’t paying attention.
“In my work for Comstock I studied particles at first. I devised a way to make a single atom resist gravity. It was this work that interested him, in fact. It was also while working on this project that I found a way to contact Robert. I knew there were other versions of. . . well of myself. I dreamed it as a little girl, and endless stream of slight variations stretching into infinity. Still, it was quite a shock to discover one, and be able to communicate with him.” She smiled, remembering how happy she’d been in the dreams.
“With his help I began working on a way to bridge our two worlds. Comstock was interested in this technology as well. You see. . . it was our theory that time only existed because our perception demanded it exist. So if I could move between worlds I could move between times. Whether that assumption was correct or not was unimportant, because it worked in that manner. Comstock became known as a prophet. He built a city on top of Lutece particles, and called it Columbia.”
Her expression darkened considerably when she thought of Columbia, and she took a drink of her beer. “He used it during the Boxer Rebellion to-” Rosalind shook her head. “Comstock was a thug and he barely concealed it. How anyone thought he was worth venerating is beyond me. But the important part is that he used my tear generator to spy on other worlds and other times. It aged him horribly, and rendered him sterile. A would-be king needs an heir so he shared a secret with me. He was not born Zachary Comstock, but Booker DeWitt. He knew about Robert, so he surmised that there might be a Booker DeWitt in Robert’s universe, and that man might have a child.”
Robert winced visibly at Booker’s name, and rubbed his temples. Rosalind turned toward him this time, and handed him her handkerchief. “You’re bleeding again.” She said softly. He took the cloth and pressed it to his nose, regretting drinking all that whiskey. Now he couldn’t take anything for his horrible migraine.
Most people would have been blown away by the idea of traversing universe to universe, or just contacting another. Killian had the benefit of his dreams, where he did something similar, going from world to world. By magic, and not Science, but still. The concept was the same, the ability to look beyond the existence one was already in to reach out to another. So he could believe the idea quite well.
His stormy eyes narrowed at the nosebleed. The two of them were so casual about it, but it did seem quite random. “You all right, mate?” he wondered, finishing his own glass of whiskey.
“So I take it you took his child, then?” Considering the vein of the story, and how Robert seemed to be quite heavy with regret, that seemed to be the obvious conclusion.
Robert didn’t answer immediately, and Rosalind kept her eyes on him. The morning after those dreams they’d spent almost all day in the hospital, but the doctors couldn’t figure out what his problem was. They were both worried, but there was no need to fuss about it.
“Comstock was the better option.” Robert said, before blowing his nose. His head was still aching, but he needed to explain why he’d done it. “Booker was a blackout drunk, a gambler. He was in deep with the mob. The girl would have been hurt in that environment, it was obvious.”
Rosalind nodded. “For all that Comstock is an unmitigated jerk, and as bad as Booker in many respects, he could provide her a stable home, he had a wife, and we’d be there to keep an eye on her.” Rosalind didn’t remember the exact details, yet. Robert was farther ahead in the dreams than her.
It was hard to say how Killian felt about the act of stealing a child from a parent that wanted her. It was cruel, but if she wound up in a happier home, it wasn’t the worst thing they might have done. Really, he had stolen a mother from her son, was he really in any place to stand above them and be judgmental? Not really. It was a shame, but he could understand their reasoning. And he was sure he’d do something similar if he had to.
“So you brought the girl from one existence to the next? Did Robert go along?” They had discussed how strange the dreams were, that they weren’t together. Apparently they had found a way to each other after all.
“It’s quite a tale,” he surmised. Still, he gave Robert the limited comfort, “You don’t have to be the man you were in the dreams, mate.” He was trying to convince himself of that fact, really. He was far too much like his dream self, and the more he dreamed the more the similarities jumped out at him.
“Yes, I went along.” Robert said, shaking his head. “I didn’t just take her. I bought her. I made the poor bastard hand her to me, right out of her crib.”
“He sold her to you, Robert, to repay his gambling debts.” Rosalind frowned. She thought very little of both DeWitt and Comstock. “Better you than a pimp. She’d have a good five years to train at that point before being put out on the street for god fearing men to fondle behind their wives’ backs.”
Robert looked up at Rosalind, livid. He stood, his chair falling backward. “Why are you like that? She could have had a good life, a happy one, and all you can think of is the worst case scenario! You’re so bitter and cynical, and I don’t know why!”
Rosalind stared up at him, her expression cold and furious. “I’m not the one drinking with a days long migraine and beating myself up over something I didn’t do. Your optimism isn’t saving you from that one bit.”
Well. Killian had some experience with the Luteces by now, through their few meetings. Usually over drinks, but Jones was quite the lush, it wasn’t unexpected. Still, he’d never seen them argue with each other. Argue at each other, certainly, or discussing a certain viewpoint. It seemed quite rare that they actually fell into a disagreement, and the Irishman felt a little out of place.
“To be clear, I’m not taking a side here,” because he saw the points on both sides, though he didn’t exactly agree with either completely. “But she is right about the last bit, Rob. What you did in a dream, you’re not responsible for it, and you can’t control it.”
Robert was beyond reason at the moment. The dreams made his head hurt and he just wanted to stop talking about them. He wished Rosalind would just leave it be, but she had to keep poking at things. He didn’t know exactly why the dreams were making his head hurt, or giving him nosebleeds and hallucinations, but Rosalind didn’t seem to care at all. “I want to go home.” At least he could be alone there.
Rosalind nodded. She collected her purse and stood, giving Killian a terse nod. “I apologize for our behavior.” She said it blandly, hoping not to set Robert off again. Thankfully she’d barely drunk half her beer and could still drive. “Have a good evening, Killian.”
“Aye, you as well,” he offered, but it seemed pretty empty. He was a silver tongued bastard, but there were some conversations he was just not gifted in. This would be one of them. Hopefully the two would resolve it. Seeing them at odds was absolutely strange. “Feel better, mate,” he offered to Robert, though it was hard to say if the other man was even listening.