fallingbackup | The time of our great undoing

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[fabulae_victoriana]

The time of our great undoing

When Kevin woke up alone for the first time in months, he knew almost immediately that Glen was gone. If he were still human, he'd have looked everywhere for the man until he'd at least tracked down one of his Chains, and gotten confirmation from them that he was no longer in the world with them. But as it was, he could smell that the very spot he was laying on was the spot where Glen's trail had gone cold. The duke had vanished from the bed they shared as the knight slept.

That was well over a week ago now and in his head, Kevin's been lost ever since. He's done the best he can to take over Glen's duties around the house, and the Jabberwock, for whatever reason, has let him do it. But no matter how he tells himself that he's only minding things until Glen returns, and that he will, the atmosphere in the house rankles against him. Young Gilbert doesn't accept him -- not like this. The little Lacie pities him for the depth of his sadness; Lottie scoffs at him for thinking he can even attempt to fill Glen's shoes, even if he knows perfectly well he's only providing a poor substitute. With every day that passes, he feels more and more withdrawn, and so, when he can, Kevin escapes. He can be found wandering the city, now and again, letting the noise of it drown out his own thoughts. Or he can be found patrolling the fences around the farmlands as usual, perhaps in the hopes that the familiar solitude of it will help keep him in his right mind. But the truth is that Kevin hasn't felt this out of place and unsettled in at least a year, since he'd come to live in Glen's house in the first place. He'd thought he was home at last, that he'd found a new family and even a little peace. Now, it seems that all of that peace was in Glen all along, and Kevin has no idea when or if the duke will return.

But the most upsetting part of it all is what he does know. If Glen has really gone home, he's no doubt living through the Tragedy. Right now, somewhere, Kevin's Oswald is staring at the man who's broken his heart, there are swords raised between them, and the duke is maybe just realizing that he's going to die on that blade because Jack Vessalius never did love him enough.

And Kevin can't do anything about it.

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When he ends up walking along one of the fences surrounding the farmhouses, he'll see a very familiar figure sleeping against one of the trees. He doesn't look like he's plopped down there on purpose. He's slumped over awkwardly against it, cheek resting on his shoulder in a manner that looks like it's going to hurt when he finally wakes and moves his neck. His legs are sprawled out in front of him, and maybe it's obvious, maybe it isn't, but one of his sleeves is empty and draped down his side and onto the ground.

He's breathing steadily, but doesn't look like he's waking up any time soon without a little help.

The wind is blowing in such a way that Kevin sees Gilbert before he smells him. It hasn't occurred to him before now that he's actually begun relying more on his enhanced senses these days than the ones he initially started with -- and his state of mind isn't actually helping. But for this first moment, Kevin actually blanks entirely, staring at the sleeping body without recognizing him.

Then the breeze shifts, bringing smoke and the inside of a stormcloud and just the barest hint of Raven with it, and Kevin knows him then. The scent is somehow different than it was, and so Kevin isn't actually sure this is the Gilbert he was familiar with in the other world, the one who failed to show up. But all of the Gilberts have Xerxes Break, right? And isn't the little one a part of his family? So, the knight doesn't hesitate to rush to his side, squatting down to call Gilbert's name once he's there.

Kevin knows he's alive; he can hear his heartbeat. Whether or not he's okay is another matter.

He'd been stepping into Sablier, his weapon in his one hand, heading towards the clocktower. He recalls, vaguely, that his sight had started to blur and for a moment he almost thought he could see a face on the empty clock, hands ticking away as they sought out Glen Baskverille. But despite the terrifying, uncertain road that they were walking, Gilbert felt calm, alert, and his heart felt lighter than it had in the last ten years. For the first time, he felt like he could finally focus on his one goal without fear or hesitance.

But as his vision had blurred, Oz, Break, Sharon and Alice had disappeared and darkness had set in. Dreaming against the tree trunk, he sees two young children and their mother, three people whom he loves, a family that he'd lost, men and women who look identical to each other save for a set of clothes or a scar or an accent or mannerism, a hundred people whom his soul remembers even though his mind has forgotten them. There's a house, a city, a beach and ocean that leads to nowhere. He dreams of fire and earthquakes, of blood and gunpowder. Pain and pleasure, confusion and clarity. Chains and wolves and broken clocks and chipped tea cups.

The dream starts to fade as he comes back into consciousness. Someone is calling his name. Break? He hasn't spoken to him since they arrived at Sablier, what on earth would he need now? Can't he see that Gilbert is busy napping--

Napping? When had he fallen asleep?

His eyes snap open quickly and he sights up straight as he's startled awake. The air smells different, cleaner. "Huh?" he gasps as he reaches out towards his companion, attempting to take Break's arm so that he can pull himself back up.

"Sorry, Break, I didn't mean to fall asleep here--"

But then his eyes finally manage to focus on the man's face and all at once he realizes that the dream he'd been having hadn't been a dream at all. This place...he knows this place. Or at least he thinks he does. A world that used to be a small cage that eventually became a much larger one. He isn't home at all.

"--Kevin?"

The knight's shoulders slump a little in relief, when Gilbert recognizes him. He looks a little bit different himself now, since he's been in this place. He wears his old-fashioned clothing far more easily than he did a year ago, and Lottie recently bullied him into having his long hair trimmed up a little neater. The cloak over his shoulders is black, because Kevin won't really wear anything else, but it's embroidered with Baskerville red, And, faintly visible as the wind ruffles his hair, he sports a still-fading scar on his forehead.

"So it is you," he says, almost sighing the words. Surely if this place has finally caught up with Gilbert, it will bring Glen back, right? "We wondered if --"

His hand had closed over Gilbert's elbow when the other man had latched onto his arm. Now, Kevin reaches for the other, intending to pull him up, and winds up clutching an empty sleeve. Shocked, he turns to stare at the limp cloth, and his words die in his mouth.

And he's even the one he remembers, thank goodness. Gilbert's head aches as more memories come rushing back, but it isn't the same painfully sharp ache that it once had been. It's dull, tiring. It almost makes him want to curl back up underneath of this tree and sleep a while longer just to get rid of it, but there are other things to worry about now. If he's not in Sablier, it means that he's left Oz once again. His heart aches along with his head at the realization, anxiety spiking along with it. He'd been here for years before he'd finally gone home, and though he'd forgotten this place entirely, he still remembers how he'd grown in both places. Everything that he'd been through in both places. And now he knows that he'll be back to see it all again before too long.

There are people he should ask after; from the sound of it he's been gone a while. But before the question can reach his lips, Kevin grabs his sleeve and his grip with his one hand loosens in surprise.

"Ah..."

He glances down at where his left arm had once been bound to the past.

"It's all right. It doesn't hurt."

Kevin stares a moment longer. Gilbert is a Baskerville; Kevin knows this, knows the wound probably scarcely troubled him even when it was fresh, but --

He's already kneeling, but the knight decides that sitting would probably be even better, apparently. With a whump he's on his ass in the snow, sword laying awkwardly over the ground and cloak draped around him -- and though he draws back a little, he keeps a hold of the end of Gilbert's sleeve. Kevin isn't quite the same as he was when Gilbert saw him last. An awful head injury has rewritten him into a far more cuddly creature than he was before, and just now, his world is shaken by Glen's absence. His friend is here and his friend was hurt, and Kevin does not want to let go.

"What happened...?"

He watches Kevin's hand clutching at his sleeve, recalling how Oz had done the same thing only a few minutes ago. The panic that rises from the thought is quickly swallowed down, but it does shine through in his eyes and in the undertones of his voice.

"It's a long story," he says with a shake of his head. Probably not a conversation to have outside in the snow. Maybe over hot chocolate or tea or at least a warm fire. He then tilts his head up to look overhead at the tree and as much of the horizon as he can see from this vantage point, expecting to see the mansion and the rose garden or at least the singing flowers. They always greet him.

"How long have I been gone? Last I remember - "

Except, there are no singing flowers. No mansion. Nothing familiar at all save for his old patrol buddy.

"...Where are we?" Is this still Sablier? Maybe he hasn't left at all and this is some weird distorted memory plucked from someone else's head.

"Do you remember that time that world crossed over with a different one?" the knight asks. "We're in the other one. Glen and I have been here since maybe a month after the revolution, ah, thing, but --"

He's speaking quickly, far more eagerly than the taciturn knight usually speaks to anyone but Oswald on one of his excitable days. Really, he's almost babbling. But here he falters a little, glancing down for a moment before continuing on.

"People from there were trickling in slowly, but -- at Yule suddenly a whole group poured in, all at once, in the middle of the holiday party. There's -- there's Gilbertine and your children, and the funny-talking Break is with them, but not our Lady Shelly or Big Lacie, no you..."

He doesn't even realize as he speaks that he's never acknowledged the twins before. It's beginning to dawn on the knight that this is a huge thing. If Gilbert has returned at last, maybe it isn't just Glen that Kevin can hope to see again soon.

That's right, the last he remembers, he had gone to sit down and felt himself quickly falling asleep. The snow had been falling, the whole world had felt so still and quiet. So this was the change that he'd felt back then, except he'd taken a detour home first before coming back.

He pales slightly to hear that Gilbertine and their children are all here. Thank goodness that she'd followed but...to imagine that he'd all but abandoned them is difficult for his heart to hear. Even though he'd gone back and faced so much of his burden and finally realized his real purpose, this had been his purpose as well.

His one hand raises to his head to massage his brow. He'll need to face them like this. How will Gilbertine forgive him?

"And what about Jack?" he asks, voice dipping dangerously low.

"None," Kevin answers immediately. "If one does show up, I'll kill him before he gets near any of ours. As many times as I have to."

This is the Kevin who behaves himself, more or less, but it seems that being rescued from fate hasn't actually made him much less murderous.

"It's -- a bit over a month," he adds. "Since Yule."

And for once, Gilbert seems inclined to agree. Any lingering doubts that he had of Jack and of his past are gone, and so many of his returning memories are difficult to dredge back up. The color returns to his face and brings an angry, embarrassed flush along with it.

"A month..."

His hand drops down and grasps his opposite shoulder, just above what remains of his arm.

"It's only been a few days for me."

A few very, very long days.

At his movement, Kevin realizes that he's still clinging to the end of that empty sleeve. Finally letting it fall, he draws his hand back to his chest.

"You probably want to go to the boarding house," he mumbles. "That's -- where Gilbertine and the others are. Ah...there's a Break that doesn't talk funny, also."

"--He's there too?"

Gilbert almost asks if this Break can see or not, but he supposes he can answer that question for himself when they arrive. Better to find out on his own than remind Kevin of his fate back home. Reaching behind himself, he takes hold of the tree and attempts to pull himself up to his feet by himself this time. It's obvious that he's struggling, though, not just with the physical aspects of it, but his own sense of balance.

"He lives with the Lady Shelly who's here. And...there's a Kevin with one eye. He's with the local Big Lacie."

Kevin stands as well, quicker and easier, possessing the unconscious grace that all Break-shaped creatures have. He clearly feels awkward with Gilbert struggling next to him, and wants to help. But in the end he just waits patiently, pretending nothing is amiss. After all, he is a man who will one day react to going blind by hiding it. To his way of thinking, therefore, the best way to respectfully handle Gilbert's disability is to ignore it until it becomes necessary not to.

"I avoid them both," he continues, watching from the corner of his eye. If Gilbert loses his balance, Kevin will be at his elbow immediately, at least. "Though the other Kevin...he's not all that bad, I guess. We call him Asshole Kevin but he mostly keeps to himself unless he likes you."

...like this one still does, really. Shh.

That Kevin...oh yes, he remembers that Kevin. The small frown on his face gives a clear recognition of just who Kevin here means. The one who had ignored his suffering when that woman had climbed on top of him and threatened his tiny dignities and unconventional relationship. He finally gets to his feet and shakes the snow from his jacket before replacing his hand back against his shoulder.

"I think I know who you mean--"

"Oh, have you met him?"

Kevin considers for a moment, and then says the only thing that really feels appropriate to say, given his other selves.

"...I'm sorry."

"N-no, don't worry, you don't need to apologize for him."

Gilbert has met some of his other selves, too. He understands. Maybe not to this extent, but a little bit. One of his selves had been missing an eye, another had been a chef who went a little heavy on the pepper, and yet another was a listless stoner. It could have been worse.

"Not really for him, just...my sympathies that you had to meet him."

He is making a magnificent lineface now, an expression he picked up from Glen. The other Kevin...it's kind of like having an embarrassing sibling who hangs out with terrible people and periodically comes over to say awful things at dinner. He's been firmly rejected as part of Kevin's identity and he's used to the idea of Asshole being around. He's just...

Well, they call him Asshole Kevin for a reason.

"Right..."

He nods and takes another, clearly look around. The farm house doesn't look familiar either, but he didn't get a lot of time to fully explore the world the last time he was here. By the time he became comfortable with the idea of his surroundings changing this drastically, they'd been sent home.

"Which way is it?"

Following his gaze, Kevin says, "That's where I live. We're outside of town right now. The boarding house is this way."

The only tracks right now are the ones Kevin himself has left in his prowling. He turns now in the direction he'd come from, ready to lead Gilbert past the fences around the Baskervilles' (his) lands and to the road that will lead them into the city.

"It's a nice enough place. It serves much the same purpose as the mansion did, and it's safe there."

"Safe?"

The word is out of his mouth before he remembers the strange creatures that he'd encountered the first time they'd come here, the things that he'd at first mistaken for Chains. He shakes his head and corrects himself.

"Those things are still here?"

"...there's a lot of 'things' here. Last month a bunch of undead things that were half made of clockwork came out of the Marsh. Actually. They got Asshole and the Jabberwock before they were stopped, but everything is settled again, and other than that it's been peaceful here the past several months."

As they begin to draw away from the farmhouse, enough so that it isn't directly in their line of sight anymore, Kevin lifts his arm to point out a giant castle that sits upon the lands far behind it. The light shines on it in a way that glints and slides, as though the structure was made of ice or glass.

"Elsa lives there," Kevin says. "She can control snow and ice. She built that castle. But she's quiet and shy and I think she scares herself. The werewolf who turned the Brat and me is here too, but I still haven't even spoken to him. People make him nervous, so he keeps to himself." His arm drops again, and the knight shrugs. "It seems like a lot of the dangerous things here are really only that terrible by accident."

It's definitely the first time that he's seen a building made of ice, and the whole thing makes him shiver. Or maybe it's just colder here than it was back home, he hasn't really thought about it much since he was shocked back into wakefulness.

"So it's a lot like that other place, still," he answers. "What about the Will of the Mansion? Has anyone seen her yet?"

"No. The woman who runs the boarding house is called Mrs. Faraday. She's an old alcoholic lady, but I met...um. I met this girl who's basically the, uh. The manifestation of insanity I guess? She told me the landlady isn't as tipsy as she pretends to be, and the house brings us here to keep her company because she's lonely."

Kevin has been sociable since he's been here, it seems. Or maybe everything he's saying now has just been stored up for ages and now he'll resume grunting at his patrol buddy for the next month or so.

"She seems a lot less nasty than the Will of the Mansion. Even the Will of the Abyss is nicer here."

Edited 2014-02-10 03:20 (UTC)

That sounds a lot like the Will of the Mansion as well, save for the drunken part. Though Gilbert has to wonder if maybe she was drunk when she forced some of the changes in the world on them that she had.

"But this world isn't connected to the Abyss either?"

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