An 88-page bound book of poetry with embossed gilt lettering on the cover reading The New Creatures/James Douglas Morrison. Self-published by Morrison in the Spring of 1969 with only 100 copies printed by Western Lithographers (Los Angeles), the poems cover typical Morrison subject matter; death, sex, love, madness, ruination, film, dogs, etc.
Wilderness
Wilderness: The Lost Writings of Jim Morrison is a book of poems by Jim Morrison, first published in 1988. Jim Morrison, lead singer and lyricist for The Doors, wrote poetry during his life, and especially while in the band. His poetry was inspired by Arthur Rimbaud, William Blake, and many others.
How do you thank someone for not only saving your friends and family’s lives, but your future too? Saying it is a good start, but Danny thinks a gift would be nice too.
Danny was bored. He was beyond bored actually. Two days into Spring Break and he has nothing to do. Sam and her family were off on a trip to somewhere in Europe. Tucker has relatives visiting and can't hang out, and Jazz has practically been living in the library to work on some big senior project that will be due when school gets back. Even his parents were gone, some exclusive paranormal conference in New York, and they wouldn't be back until the weekend.
Danny heaved a heavy sigh. No ghosts had attacked for the last four days and now knowing the value of good time management, he had already managed to finish all of his schoolwork. He listlessly tapped his fingers against the kitchen table where he was seated. Playing Doomed solo was an option, but it's nowhere near as fun by himself, and it feels weird to play video games so early in the day. He got up from his seat and paced for a bit. He could go flying, but he didn't want to tempt the peace or any ghosts hanging about. He stopped and drank a whole glass of water just for something to do. Hydration is important, right? He resumed his pacing for several more minutes, wracking his brain for any ideas that could interest him. He would work on a model rocket, but he had finished the one he got for Christmas over winter break.
He stopped in front of the fridge and glanced at the clock on the wall, it's not too early for lunch. He grabbed a box of saltines out of the cupboard and pulled out a handful. Setting the box back on the counter he eased open the fridge door.
"Hey guys, I have a nice snack for you." he said as he checked for any loose ectoweenies. He couldn't help the sad noise that escaped him when he saw the plate with last night's leftovers had been cleaned bare. At least one weenie must have gotten out of the drawer. He placed a cracker on the plate to lure the escapee from hiding. Small, high-pitched growls greeted him as he slid the duct taped drawer open a couple of inches and sprinkled crushed saltine in the gap.
The ectoweenies were kind of cute when they weren't eating his lunch. Jazz was by far the best cook in the family and he had been looking forward to enjoying the meatloaf again for lunch. His musings were interrupted by tiny crunching sounds. "Aha!" he exclaimed as he snatched the miscreant up off of the plate.
"You've had enough of an adventure, time to go back home," he dropped the weenie through the open gap in the drawer. "Ouch!" he yelped as it managed to bite his thumb on the way down. Danny pouted as he stuck his thumb in his mouth to suck on the bite. The returned weenie was growling its story to the others as he toed the drawer closed before using his free hand to reseal the duct tape.
"For some reason, I'm not that hungry anymore..." Danny muttered as he inspected his thumb. Thank goodness for supernatural healing, what was a bleeding cut a moment ago was already reduced to a light pink line.
Danny resumed his pacing for a moment before sitting back down at the table. He rested his chin on his arms as he watched the seconds tick by on the clock.
‘I have so much time and all I can think of doing is watching the clock tick.’ He mused on the irony of trying to make time and when he finally has some, he can hardly use it.
‘I wonder what Clockwork does when he isn’t pretending to try to kill me. To think that he had planned for us to try to escape to the future to see Dan in order to set me on the path of overcoming that future.’ He frowned, ‘Even then I didn’t actually make it in time to save anyone. It was really nice of Clockwork to not only save them, but to set me further back afterwards so that I could keep my secret and do some damage control. I didn’t even get a chance to thank him for his help.’ He rose to his feet and started pacing once more. “I really should thank him. I think I remember where his lair is. It might take an hour or two of flying if nothing interferes… Should I just show up? That seems kind’ve rude. Maybe I should get him a gift? Thanks for saving my family and friends, and you know, not killing me when you could have. Yeah I should definitely bring a gift, that would be the polite thing when just showing up at someone’s home.” His pacing slowed as his thoughts deepened.
“But what gift do you give the ghost who can control time? And also saved you and your family from terrible fates... He said time is like a parade that he watches from above but it was more like he was helping to direct the parade than just watching.” Danny grinned in delight as inspiration struck, “I know the perfect thing!” he said as he dashed out the door at a quarter to eleven, patting his pocket to check for his wallet as he went.
-----
A quick scooter ride later and he was at the outlet stores by the mall. He looked fondly at the video game store before parking his scooter and walking into the music store. He browsed around the aisles, poking at one or two of the display instruments. ‘I remember when we came here so Jazz could pick an instrument in Middle School; I don’t think she’s played since then.’
When the lady at the desk finished with her short line of customers (mostly band kids buying reeds or random accessories), Danny popped out from the shelves to ask her, “Hey, do you guys have the kind of baton that bands use in parades? I’m looking for a gift for a conductor I know.”
She pursed her lips in thought before sliding her chair over to her computer next to the register. “Hang on; let me see if we have anything like that in stock.” Danny tried to keep from fidgeting as she spent a couple of minutes typing and clicking away at the computer. He was trying to decide whether or not to scratch his nose when she turned back to him.
“So we don’t have anything like that in the store right now. You could special order one if you’d like but that would take a while and unless you wanted a gag gift, would be pretty expensive…” At his crestfallen expression she continued, “However, if you would like to get your conductor friend a conducting baton, a good quality one runes about $20-30 and we have a nice selection I can show you.”
Danny’s face lit up, “It’s not my first idea, but that would be just as good!” The store clerk smiled at him and standing from her computer chair, she led him to one of the display cases by the register.
“These are arranged by price and material. This side is the lower end and is mostly fiberglass and cheaper wood or rubber,” she said, gesturing to Danny’s left, “and these are the nicer, more durable ones to your right. My favorite is the rosewood style right there.” She pointed to a medium priced baton with a nice reddish wooden bulb.
“Tell you what, since this is for a gift, if you get one of the wooden ones I’ll engrave a name for you for free.”
Danny grinned at her, “That rosewood one you pointed out would be great! For the name, could you put it as Clockwork?”
She smiled back at him and chuckled a little, “As in, when they’re conducting everything runs like clockwork?”
“Yeah kinda like that, it’s a nickname, so could you capitalize the C?”
“Of course, that’ll be $25.96 after tax.”
Danny paid her and watched as she pulled a slim case from below the counter. She popped the end cap off and pulled out the new baton.
“Looks to be in perfect shape, give me a minute and I’ll have the name engraved for you.” She picked up a small tool slightly thicker and longer than a pen and flipped a switch on the side. A low buzzing filled Danny’s ears as she carefully engraved the name on the shaft in neat handwriting. The tip of her tongue was sticking out of her mouth as she concentrated. She flipped the tool off and stowed it out of sight before blowing on the engraving to help cool it and to remove any dust. She waved it a couple of times before neatly sliding it back into the case and handing it to him.
“There you go, one personalized baton for your friend!” she chirped.
“Thank you so much, I’m sure he’ll like it!” Danny effused before heading out the door with a wave to the friendly salesperson. He retrieved his scooter and helmet and headed back to Fentonworks. The whole trip only took about half an hour.
-----
Once back at home, Danny stowed his scooter and made a quick stop back in the kitchen. He slapped together a peanut butter sandwich so he wouldn’t have to deal with the ectoweenies again. He scarfed it and washed it down with another glass of water.
“Ok!” he said, talking aloud to help psyche himself up. “I should leave a note for Jazz somewhere in case I’m out when she gets home, and then I need to store the gift in my ghost space pocket so I don’t lose it on the trip. I think that’s everything,” he said with his arms crossed and tapping his fingers against his elbow. He nodded and then reached for the notepad next to the fridge to write out a quick note for his sister.
‘Hey Jazz, I’m going for a visit to see Clockwork, he’s the guy who helped me out during the CAT stuff. Nothing is wrong. I’m going to thank him and probably visit for a bit. Don’t know how long it’ll take but don’t worry if I’m not home yet.’
“She’ll probably still worry and tell me that it’s her job as my big sister, but at least she’ll know I wasn’t kidnapped or something. This should keep her from looking for me too. She’s not going to go searching for me in the ghost zone unless I’m gone a really long time.”
He put the note in the middle of the table then grabbed the gift and lightly skipped down the stairs to the lab. A quick flash of light and Danny tucked the slim case into the special space pocket where he normally keeps his thermos and cell phone. Discovering that ability had made his ghost fighting a lot simpler, no more racing to his locker to grab a thermos or trying to discreetly pull it from his bag when he says he’s going to the bathroom. He still keeps a spare in his locker and under his bed. Sam and Tucker both keep a few too. It never hurts to be prepared, especially when it comes to ghost fighting.
He pulled off his glove and unlocked the portal. It was kind’ve funny that his DNA was still recognizable to the Fenton scanner in ghost form. After pulling his glove back on, he slipped through the portal and was on his way.
-----
Danny hummed cheerfully as he flew through the green and purple mists of the ghost zone. He had been so bored, but he found the perfect thing to do! Even better, since his parents weren’t home, he won’t have to worry about being locked in the zone.
He did a loop and waved at some cute blob ghosts before significantly increasing his speed. ‘I might be able to shave off some of my travel time if I fly near top speed, it’ll be good exercise too.’
Danny continued to increase his flight speed until his surroundings blurred and he weaved among the floating islands, rocks, and other debris with minute adjustments to his path. Amazingly enough, he didn’t encounter any ghosts itching for a fight. ‘Maybe it’s because I’m in the Zone, most ghosts that come through the portal have some sort of goal. Most in the Ghost Zone just want to be left alone. It could also be partly the speed I’ve been going, harder for anyone to try to fight me if I’m already gone by time they notice me.’
He slowed his pace down as the floating gears that fill the space near Clockwork’s lair began to appear. ‘I wonder where all these gears come from. He does have a lot of clocks. Maybe he used to have more? I can always ask him later if the visit goes well.’ Danny gently touched down in front of the large door to the lair. He took a deep breath, thinking, ‘I hope he doesn’t mind a visit. Of course he probably already knows I’m coming here, but still.’ and then firmly clanged the doorknocker.
A few seconds passed and then Clockwork opened the door with a slight smile, “Daniel. Please come in.,” he said while beckoning with his free arm.
“I hope it’s ok that I just showed up.” Danny said as he stepped into Clockwork’s lair for the second time.
“It’s perfectly alright. You are welcome here Daniel, I can always make time for you.” Clockwork replied as he closed the door behind them.
‘Did he just make a pun?’ Danny wondered, pausing in his surprise before following Clockwork into a lounge area that he hadn’t seen on his initial visit. ‘Not that I really had much time to look around with everything going on and Clockwork manipulating us for a better future. On the subject of that diverted timeline, I shouldn’t forget what brought me here in the first place.’
Clockwork, currently in adult form, had stopped and was now floating by a flat gear suspended at coffee table height.
“Clockwork,” Danny said, “I really want to thank you for your help with that horrible future. I really appreciate that not only did you save my friends and family; you also gave me a second chance to fix my relationship with Mr. Lancer about the cheating thing. He let me retake the test and actually let me study for it during detentions. He even answered questions that I had about the material!” Danny paused to take a breath, “To show my gratitude for your help and to say thank you for giving me a chance, I got this for you.” He rotated his arm slightly to reach into his sub-pocket and pulled out the slim case holding the engraved baton.
As he handed it to Clockwork he said, “It’s not much but I was thinking about how you said you see time like a parade that you’re watching from above, it felt more like you were directing the parade a bit and I’m really glad you kept it from marching off a cliff…” Danny trailed off, halting his ramblings as Clockwork opened the case and gently withdrew the baton. He phased to his older form as he lightly ran his gloved fingers over the engraving of his name.
“It is a lovely gift, thank you Daniel. It is very thoughtful and especially fitting in your case. I will cherish it.,” he said as he slid it into an invisible pocket up his sleeve. “I am glad that you decided to come by. Due to my actions on your behalf, I have been given charge and responsibility for you. Think of me as your ghostly guardian, or mentor. You should feel free to visit me anytime, whether you have questions, are looking for advice, or just want to spend time in a safe place. Cookie?” he offered as he switched to his child form.
Danny was sure his jaw was hanging loose as Clockwork finished informing him of their new potential relationship. Given that he was currently in ghost form, that could be a lot more literal than normal. He was still trying to process this bombshell when his whole train of thought derailed at the sight of the cookie that Clockwork was holding out to him.
“That cookie is green. And glowing.” he said as he cautiously reached out for it.
“Of course it is, “Clockwork replied, “The flour was soaked in raw ectoplasm before it was baked.”
Danny looked slightly repulsed but curious as he examined the cookie now in his hand, “Is it safe for me to eat?” he asked.
“Yes it is, and actually, on the subject of nutrition,” Clockwork said, phasing back to his adult form once again, “You need to increase your ectoplasm intake if you want to remain healthy while using your powers. The easiest ways for you to do this would be to accept it into your diet, such as with these cookies,” he gestured towards the still uneaten cookie in Danny’s hand, “or you can absorb ambient energy from spending time in the Ghost Zone.”
“Wow, you’re being a lot more straight forward now than when you helped save the future.” Danny remarked.
“When I helped you, my hands were tied by my employers; they wanted me to eliminate you instead of solving the root of the problem. Now that I have responsibility for both you and the alternate phantom, I am able to directly advise you when you have a problem as opposed to the convoluted run around that was necessary to keep the Observants from interfering further.” He shifted to his elder form and concluded with, “Maybe they wouldn’t be so shortsighted if they had two eyes instead of just one.”
Danny smiled slightly at the dig at the pretentious eyeballs. He had encountered them a few times while exploring the zone but hadn’t known what their jobs were at the time. “I know I promised that I’ll never turn into Dan, and I’m planning on always keeping my promise! But, is there anything that I need to watch out for to keep everything on track?”
“Do not worry. The actions that you have taken and the choices that you have made have decisively prevented you from ever becoming Dan. You have committed yourself to doing what is right, and remember, Dan was not just you, he was a combination of Phantom and Plasmius. You have nothing to worry about as long as you keep going as you have been. Eat your cookie.”
Danny nibbled at his cookie and was surprised that it tasted really good to him. It was a sugar cookie with a lemon-lime aftertaste that somehow worked really well. As he finished the cookie, he realized that it satisfied a craving that he hadn’t realized he had. Like finally scratching an itch. Danny ate another ecto-cookie from the plate on the table as Clockwork looked on in his child form.
“So I can visit tomorrow too?” Danny asked.
“Of course you may Daniel, you are welcome here any,” he paused and smirked slightly, “…time.” he finished, shifting to adult form.
Danny grinned at him, Clockwork liked puns too! He floated over to the older ghost and tentatively reached for a hug. Clockwork did not hesitate in holding him tight and completing the embrace.
“You are a good and precious child; I already am anticipating your next visit. Unfortunately, you will need to be leaving soon if you do not want your sister to form a search party. She has finished early at the library and will be heading for home shortly.”
Danny hid his smile against Clockwork’s chest as he felt his hair being ruffled. The ticking of the clock under his cheek was comforting.
“Thank you again for saving my whole world. And thanks for the advice and the open invitation. I’ll definitely be visiting more this week.”
Clockwork gave Danny’s head a final pat before separating, “As long as you fly the same speed or faster going home as you did coming here, you will avoid any encounters and will make it home with plenty of time to reassure your sister and to tell her about your day.” Clockwork shifted to his elder form and with his characteristic smirk, stated, “Later Gator.”
Danny beamed with delight as they floated to the door.
“After a little while, Crocodile.”
“We’re far too gharialous for a traditional parting.”
It took Danny a moment to work gharial and garrulous apart before he could shoot back, “Caiman, these puns are getting old.”
Clockwork replied by waggling his eyebrows and shifting to his child form, “Actually, you will find that they are getting younger.”
Danny laughed and waved to his new mentor as he floated out into the ghost zone proper, “I’ll see you tomorrow, bye!” he shouted as he turned and sped off towards home.
Clockwork shut the door once Danny was out of sight and moved to his time viewing room where Danny flying home showed on the main screen. Some of the smaller screens floating off to the side showed him dropping the ecto-weenie back into the drawer in the refrigerator and eating dinner with his sister.
“There are some advantages to being the master of time, and taking care of such a wonderful and delightful child is definitely one of them. The puns are a bonus too.” he mused with a slight lisp and fingering the baton that he’d been gifted. He watched Danny talking to himself during his flight home.
“…and I should ask him where those gears around his lair come from tomorrow. Oh! And if the ectoplasmic contamination in Mom’s cooking is actually a good thing for me. I need to learn about more types of animals and things so I don’t run out of puns!” He was flying home with a huge smile.
-----
True to Clockwork’s words, Danny once again didn’t have any unfriendly encounters while he travelled. He had even managed to shave a couple more minutes off of his flight time! He slowed down as he approached the Fenton Portal and slipped through at normal speed. When he popped through he startled his sister where she was fiddling with some ghost hunting gadgets. “Danny!” she yelled, dropping a Fenton Thermos and some miscellaneous inventions that didn’t actually do anything. She threw her arms around him as he transformed back to human form. “I read your note but I was starting to get worried! I finished early at the library so that I could get dinner started.”
Danny gave her a quick hug back before responding, “I’m fine. Actually, I’m way better than fine! I’ll tell you all about it upstairs, do you think you could make meatloaf again? An ectoweenie ate all of the leftovers.”
His sister ruffled his wind-swept hair before tugging him towards the stairs. “Of course, little brother, I’m so glad that you had a good day and weren’t just playing video games or bored the whole time.” They headed upstairs together and Danny started off his story, “So I was really bored this morning. Incredibly bored. Then I got the perfect idea…”
A/n: I saw an anon on someone's page recently, complaining that the girl in Niall fics are never into sports so i wrote this. i apologize for the POV I apparently don't know how to write otherwise, but I'm working on it.
I can’t believe this is actually happening. My favorite boys in black and orange are in the world series.
I was raised on baseball. Baltimore baseball, to be exact. Raised in a small suburb outside of Baltimore, my grandfather had always taken me to games at Memorial Stadium, and then Camden Yards when it was built in 1992. To this day, it’s difficult to go to the Yard without thinking of him. He always dreamed of seeing another world series, as the last time the Birds won, was in 1983, far earlier than I was born.
Niall had been on tour for the past few months, and he finally got home last week. I’m thrilled to have him home, but he’s invited a bunch of friends over and its game 5 of the World Series between my Birds and the Marlins and we’ve won 3 games and all we need is to win this game. Four wins and the title is ours. Watching from LA isn’t ideal, but I’m happy he has the sports package from the cable company and I can watch it live.
Niall bursts into the room, laughing and leading a parade of drunk Irishmen behind him.
“Can you guys keep it down? We’re tied in the 9th and all we need is one win. I’d like to hear this.” I keep my focus on the screen, waving my hand at them in an attempt to shut them up.
“Ah, petal, its alright we just wanted to see what was happening.” he chuckles sitting down next to me.
“You can stay, just.. shut up.” I put my hands up next to my face so I can keep them from my view.
Niall scoots closer, if you can call it that, it’s more like on top of me. I shove him over and his friends find seats around the rest of the room. A few minutes later and the game ends. Orioles 3 wins, Marlins 2. I put my head in my hands, as Niall rubs my back reassuringly.
“They’ll get ‘em tomorrow night, darlin’, don't worry.”
The next night, the Marlins win again. We’re tied for the series 3 to 3. I am so excited for them for reaching this far, but fearful of them losing in the last game. There is a two day break and then the final game, game 7.
The day of the last game, I woke up alone. Niall usually isn’t up early for a few weeks after tour. He doesn't plan anything or do much of anything. I get out of bed and throw on a hoodie that had been discarded next to the bed. I start to walk down the hall, when I can faintly hear him talking to someone. Getting closer, I pause.
“Yeah, 5:30…uh no…definitely…maybe six. Ten? Sure. Yeah it’s a surprise….can’t wait.. Thank you ma’am. See ya then.”
I hear the phone being set down and walk to stand in the doorway of his office. He’s sitting in his boxers at his desk, the laptop open away from me. He sees me and clicks a few things, closing the laptop and turning his phone around. “Hey, petal, I didn’t hear ya come in. When did you wake up?”
‘‘Just now, I was cold and wanted to see where you went. Why are you up so early?” I ask walking to his desk and leaning on the wood.
“Just needed to take care of something. Hey, I have a surprise for ya.” he grips my hips and pulls me into his lap. I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him on his cheek.
“Oh yeah?”
“yeah, I need ya to pack a bag for a few days. I wanna take you away.”
“Can it wait for after the game tonight? I really want to see it.” he chuckles at me, and kisses my neck.
“I promise you can watch the game. Just pack the bag, we leave in an hour.”
“Wait what?”
He pushes me out of his lap, and stands up, dragging me back to the bedroom with him.
“Come on love, we don’t have much time.”
A few hours later we are on an airplane. I’ve been given a blindfold and earplugs so I do not know our destination. When we get into the air, he lets me take out the earplugs. He had chartered a private plane for our trip, so I’m not sure why he went to all this trouble of blindfolding me. His personal trainer/bodyguard Mark is waiting for us on the plane, which makes me think this won’t be as private of a getaway as he’s described to me.
Once we are off the plane and into a car, he blindfolds me again and I’m growing tired of this game. We drive for what seems like hours and finally the car stops. He tells me to wait and soon he comes and opens my door, grabbing my hand and pulling me out.
I can hear a lot of people, so we are somewhere with a lot of people. He asks his driver to take our bags to the hotel and he says he’ll meet us there later. Mark tells a few people to back away, that Niall is not signing autographs or taking pictures right now, and I feel a little bad that he has to turn fans away. But I’m also worried that now the word is out that he’s here and whatever he has planned will be ruined. Wherever here is.
We stop walking finally, and he asks if I’m ready for my surprise.
“Niall, please just tell me where we are.”
“Take off the blindfold”
I slowly peel it from my eyes and I am standing at the home plate entrance to Camden Yards. Oh. My.God. How.
“NIALL JAMES HORAN!” I yell, immediately engulfing him in a massive hug.
He just laughs at my reaction, wrapping his arms around me.
“Come on, this isn’t all.” he takes my hand and we walk to the attendant, and he hands her our tickets.
“You may take this elevator here if you want more privacy to the club level or you may take the escalators on the main concourse.” She tells him.
I thank her, and he chooses the elevators. “I have another surprise for ya upstairs”
We reach the club level and he guides me to our Private Box. “Are ya ready for more?”
I nod my head and he pulls open the door and pushes me inside. I look around the room, seeing everything inside. My parents, my brother John and his wife Sarah and their daughter, my best friend Anne and her husband Brian.
“What are you all doing here?!” I yell. After they laugh at my reaction, they each come to give me a hug. My niece comes running up, “Uncle Niall called us and invited us! He told us it was a surprise!”
I give her a big hug and tell her I am so happy to see her and how great of a surprise it is!
We have about an hour before the game starts, so Anne and I decide to walk around the main level for a while and get some hot dogs. Something we used to do before I married Niall and moved to LA. Mark with us of course, walking close by.
“I can’t believe he planned all of this in one day.”
“I know! I couldn’t believe it when he called last night and told us his plan. But remember I told you we’d be here one day.”
“Remember those days when we’d be here and there wouldn’t be anyone else in our section? There would be maybe 500 people here tops? Or when we’d sit in the rain and dream about being here for this?”
“Hold on to this one! If he did all of this for you, he’s husband of the year.”
“I know. I’m going to owe him big. I wonder if we’re staying at the Hilton, he told the driver we’d walk to the hotel, so it must be that.”
“Oh, he must have. He got us a room there too, and I’m not sure about your parents, or John, but I’m sure he offered.”
“We better get back up. I am so glad you’re here.” I stop her and pull her in for a hug.
“I wouldn’t have missed it”
We take the escalator back up to the club level, and walk to our box. Inside, they’ve set up a buffet of hot dogs, crab filled pretzels, popcorn, and some of Boog’s famous BBQ.A fridge full of Natty Boh is in the corner. My niece is running around asking everyone to buy her ice cream and cotton candy, while my husband is chatting up Brian about his latest golf trip and trying to coerce John into going on a ‘lads trip’ to the masters this year. I laugh, but I’m sure Sarah, Anne, and I could turn it into a girls weekend, too.
We sit in our seats and Anne and I fall right back into our old patterns of being at the game, of not moving from our seats, only talking between innings, singing and dancing during the seventh inning stretch to John Denver’s “Thank God I’m A Country Boy” .
Ninth inning, we need two runs to win. We’re down by one. Marlins bat first and its three up, three down. Manny Machado bats first, and hits a single. Chris Davis bats next, and he strikes out. I’m chewing my nails down to the bone and my fingers are raw. I’m on the edge of my seat and my hat is on inside out. My rally cap. I look over at Niall and he is staring at me, smiling. I smile back and look back to the game.
Caleb Joseph up to bat, strikes out. The Marlins fans are positive they are about to win. When my favorite Oriole, Adam Jones comes up to bat. He’s been in Baltimore his whole career. If anyone deserves a world series win, its him. I’ve watched him in every kind of weather, good games and bad. Full stadiums and empty ones. He lives and breathes Baltimore. He is Baltimore. He brought this city together. He still does. He dreams of running this team someday. I look a few boxes over and his mom is here with their whole family. His wife, his kids, brother and step dad.
We’re all on edge. She sees me and smiles, we’ve met a few times over the years. She knows how much Anne and I support her son. I make a mental note to go say hi and introduce Niall before we leave.
The closing pitcher for the Marlins throws the ball, and SMACK, Adam hits a home run, the bat sending the ball all the way over the stands to Eutaw Street. The fans in the stadium go wild. Anne and I scream and jump up in our seats. The team runs to the field, throwing pies at each other, celebrating, an Adam Jones Tradition. ‘All I do is win’ plays over the loudspeaker.
The team runs inside their dugout to celebrate in their locker room and the fans start to leave the stadium.
I run to my mom hugging her tightly. “I wish Pop-pop was here to see this. He’d be so happy.”
She sighs, “He’d have loved to be here with you, especially. You know, he’d love Niall, not just because he’s Irish.” I know he would. It’s so hard to talk about him in the past tense.
Niall finds me and pulls me into a massive hug, lifting me off the ground. I nuzzle my face into his neck and tears find their way to my eyes.
“Hey, darlin, why are ya crying?”
“I’m just so happy and you’re so amazing and I’ll never be able to do anything near this amazing for you, and my grandfather would just love you and he’d love you for being a fellow Irishman, and for taking such good care of me, and cause your so amazing, and it’s hard to be here without thinking of him, and he’s the one that made me love this game and this team, and I can’t believe I’m here in this stadium, and I’m with you and my family and Anne, and I never thought I’d see them win the world series, and stop me from rambling at any time!”
“You’re cute when you ramble like this. I love seeing you this happy. You never need to do anything like this for me. I loved doing this for you, cause I can. I promised you I’d spend my life making you happy, and you deserve it. I love you so much.”
“I love you, Niall. A thousand times, Thank you.”
“A thousand times, you’re welcome.”
“We’re at the Hilton, right?”
“Yes.”
“Overlooking the field, right?”
“Of course. But we’re on a different floor than everyone else.”
“Good. I wanna thank you properly later.” I press my lips to his, softly, before pulling away and walking to my niece to celebrate with her.
Til sits alone in silence, contemplating what Noan has told him and has asked of him.
There’s much to consider, and he wonders if he can be the person they need to help the children.
Dropping the dishes into a wash basin, Til knows sleep will not come easily to him. He nods to himself, deciding that if sleep will not come to him—for there’s nothing for him to do at this hour—then he might as well go about his duties. There’s always work to be done, and he’d rather keep his hands—and his thoughts—busy rather than lingering.
As he walks through the ancient walls of the castle, past the sleepy and stumbling staff, he thinks about why he broke so quickly and agreed to help.
He’s not trying to stand out; he has no desire to. He’s been a faithful steward of the King, and that’s all that he needs to be to one day reach his reward. But here he is, planning to offer himself like a lamb for the slaughter because tired, hurting, sky-blue eyes asked it of him.
Perhaps this will be what launches him to his final reward?
Til nods to a pair of knights, helmets off and chatting quietly, tucked away into a mossy alcove. They likely wait for the next tolling of the bells to stand watch over the early morning training.
Others were scattered around the castle as Til walked past.
The kingdom has only known peace since Til’s arrival there, with only the occasional attempt on the King’s life, even warranting the smallest number of the knights and Honored. There’s no need, never has been, for so many soldiers, for so many prepared for war. Even with the threat of King Adem’s devices, a threat of war never reached them. The knights and Honored were rarely needed outside of the city surrounding the castle, let alone farther out into the kingdom.
Although Til’s rounds often take him out of the castle and through the city, down a winding path that leads all throughout the streets—he and the other knights reminding people, warning them, the kingdom is guarded against attack—Til doesn’t go out into the city this time.
Instead, he stops by the massive gates that, when open, are large enough to allow a dozen men abreast to walk through. They have never changed location since Til’s arrival, which feels like a lifetime ago. One door is always open, and the other is always shut. Leafy vines anchor themselves on the sun and water-damaged wood, slipping through the massive bars holding it all together. A sight to admire when the flowers were blooming, though the vines themselves are just as pretty. Some of the tendrils are as thin as a hair, whereas others have grown as thick around as Til’s wrist.
There has been no need for the gates to be opened to allow an army to exit or closed to keep an enemy out.
Beside the gate was one of the other Honored, one who had only recently joined their ranks. It wasn’t long ago he’d been a child among many training, one of many in a crowd of youths in Til’s mind.
The practice of years of never seeing his fellows' faces had taught Til much about body language. The boy’s exhaustion radiated from him, despite his valiant job, standing tall and straight, without leaning on anything. Til thought if he wasn’t going to sleep, someone else should.
Til sends the newly graced Honored back to the castle, suggesting he rest before going out to the city to enjoy himself.
The younger Honored—whose name Til doesn’t catch—thanks him even as he looks around as though he was expecting someone else to appear and tell him to get back to work.
Til watches the young man leave, wondering about his name. He’d only left training the year previous; Til had trained him as well. He’s sure at some point he’d known the younger knight’s name, but now it proves as difficult to grasp as fog.
It doesn’t matter. Til would watch the front gates; it wasn’t the first morning he’d taken over. In fact, it was something of a habit when a restless night turned into an all too early morning, and sleep eluded him the whole time.
The code that the Honored were required to follow, that Til was required to follow, was certainly something that had kept him up before.
If that was his goal, he’d bring it up to the King when he was Kingsguard.
But today, he feels that talking to the common folk might help him understand his thoughts.
At this time of day, it’d mostly be people who worked within the castle who didn’t live on the grounds or those carrying supplies.
As most of the people he checks pass through the gates, none sway his thoughts from the missing children. Though they do remind him of his own disappearance, as it were.
When he’d fled his home to come to Argest, he’d been more than a boy but full of angry pride and determination. He’d been so sure he could change things, truly change things, and prove his kinsfolk wrong.
And he has.
But they weren’t the things that he’d come here to do. It didn’t stop him from wanting to help the young ones, children who showed up at the castle looking for a purpose, something like freedom, what they really needed. At least as close as they could get.
It wasn’t enough.
Before him, an older woman appears—one who’s long since started stooping and only seemed to get shorter in all the years Til’s known her—guiding her mule-pulled cart, the back of it covered with a heavy quilt embroidered with a field of flowers made from threads of a thousand colors. He’d asked her once how she got the quilt, but she would only say “magic” with a secretive smile. She stops the cart before the gate without being prompted and uncovers the back before Til can ask.
“Good morning, ma’am. What brings you to the castle today?” Even though Til knows the woman, it’s hard not to after seeing her twice a week for years, he can’t be familiar with her. Though a part of him aches to know her name. Like with the young Honored, he’s sure he’d learned it at some point, but it’s been too long for him to ask again.
“Good morning, Honored Til! I’m just bringing in the eggs for the castle. You know, I was talking to my cousin the other day. And she said that…” Til isn’t sure how she knows his name, just that she did. She starts her story without end once again, as it had been unfolding for all the years he’d known her. She shows him the mountain of eggs she has for the kitchen, showing him that none were cracked as she tells her story.
As the woman drones on, Til wonders what the King thinks of him. He makes all the right noises, allowing the woman to tell the plights of her and her cousins. Her stories aren’t the most interesting, but more than once, Til’s learned of a chicken-based catastrophe thanks to her, which was reason enough to listen to her stories.
The only reason he has to stop her is the next cart creeping up the hill. He likes to let her talk as long as she wants; he’s always been curious to see if she would talk the whole day away if given the chance.
“Alright, ma’am. See you next week.” Til waves her through, raising his hand for the cart that’s still making its way up the hill, “Next!”
The tailor isn’t someone Till knows well, not well enough to know his name or wonder even about it. An event is happening soon, so of course, the King needs new garb for it. But if Til’s one of the people going on this grand journey he may have already agreed to, then he won’t have to worry about it himself.
If he proves himself now, he can earn his place amongst the Kingsguard.
Now that he thinks about it, it’s really a golden opportunity being dropped into his lap.
He misses most of what the tailor explains as he shows his many cloths, but he has other people arriving at the gates, “Very well, have a nice day. Next.”
All he has to do is take it.
✨✨✨
Hours pass before he is relieved at the gate by another Honored, who sends him to rest. The lack of sleep tugs at him, weighing him down; his feet drag as he walks, and his shoulders dip until it seems only his armor holds him up. He pressed on.
He can’t think about his lack of sleep, about the dark fogginess that settles within his mind. He can’t think of his cell. If he goes back, he’ll be alone, truly alone with his thoughts. Without sight to distract him, only the most muddled sounds of those around him will keep him company.
Unease deepening, Til thought of times like these that made him question why he remained Honored. Why did he wear the Helmet at all times, at the oddest of hours? Why does he submit to the black abyssal cell to sleep and prepare himself in?
Among the most stifling rules the Honored follow is that he couldn’t even see himself. Can’t even take off the Helmet to look in a mirror and question if it was really all worth it.
This is part of being Honored. The knights, who’d already taken off their helmets, had no need to worry about the majority of the code Honored adhered to. However, when they drop Honored, they can no longer become Kingsguard and reap any of the rewards of that station. Til didn’t care as much for the rewards as the options they would give him. For the time being, he has to keep his Helmet on and follow the rules.
Then he’d be able to get that part of himself back when this was all said and done.
Til walks the courtyard alone, noting the knights who should be watching over it have left. Not that there’s much need for it to be guarded outside of the training hours. The only people who spent time there were pages and maids, who used it as a shortcut. Though Til supposes that visiting dignitaries could spend time here. Admire the artful stone structures and grown-over suits of armor from long-dead Kingsguard littering the courtyard while their personal staff followed.
It had been a while since there’d been any visitors. Til couldn’t remember the last time there had been some.
Even though there’s no need for watchkeeping, Til finds a place with good vantage over the courtyard. It also keeps him nearly completely out of sight as he wonders about the missing children.
Noan had been distraught, more so it seemed than the King. If he’d been looking for the children for some time now, then it’s no surprise he looked so tired. Til wonders what changed and what would happen when they were brought here?
A page appears as he sits, lost in thought.
The teenager, more like a child, really, looks around, her shirt darkened with sweat that drips from her. She was without armor but already bore the symbol of those who become Honored. Her head swings around, shorn short hair barely avoiding her eyes as she searches for something.
“Page,” he calls to the girl, “What do you seek?”
She starts, her body whipping to face Til. If his hiding place surprises her, she doesn’t sound it, calling back, “The King has called another meeting. All knights and Honored are to be in the throne room by the next tolling of the bells. If there are others with you, bring them with you!”
Til waves off the page, “Understood.”
He stands, stretching as much as he’s able before making his way into the depths of the castle. Maybe his questions will be answered.
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As he follows Noan from the castle, Til can’t help but compare his speed to that of a criminal fleeing the scene of a crime. The man doesn’t stop, or even slow as they pass through the town and into the countryside around it. Hunkered down over his horse, pushing it faster and faster, Til wants to tell him that it’s not about speed, though time is of the essence, but that they’re going to run their horses into the ground if they’re not careful.
It crosses Til’s mind that Noan is fleeing the castle, or, perhaps, something or someone within.
The urge to flee the capital had lessened the older Til got and the more time he’d spent as Honored. It hadn’t left him completely, though, and as the castle, then the city, grows ever smaller behind them, a tightness in his entirety eases as well, from the tips of his toes all the way up to the ever-present pressure at the base of his skull.
He doesn’t put much thought behind it, just puts it to the fresh air and the ability to ride freely for the moment. That and trying to keep up with the Wizard.
It’s only as the city walls have shrunk to nearly nothing that Noan finally slows.
“So-” Til gasps, feeling almost as out of breath as poor Stoney heaving for air beneath him, “Where exactly are we going?”
“Wherever we need to.” Noan answers, looking windswept and pink, eyes shining as bright as his smile. Nothing like Til’s already exhausted and frazzled.
Til waits to see if the Wizard plans to add anything to that somewhat cryptic statement. A few moments pass while they sit in silence, rocked gently by the motion of the horses. Realizing Noan isn’t going to add anything, Til says, “That’s not exactly helpful.”
“My apologies, but I’m afraid there’s really not a better answer in this situation.”
Squinting at the other from the recesses of his helmet, Til wonders if it’s too late to turn around. Surely they were close enough still for him to be able to turn back.
It’s not worth thinking about. He’d agreed to be a part of this journey, and even though the last time he’d traveled this hard through these lands, he’d been rushing like the flames of his anger were nipping at his heels, pushing him faster onward like it was something he’d had a chance to escape.
That time was long behind him now.
Now, he needed to figure out where they were going next.
The night before, he’d been able to examine the maps to some extent, but he wasn’t exactly comfortable saying that he’d had them memorized. It’d been another story in his youth, but that was a long time ago, and he’d had no need to remember them since coming to the castle. Trying to remember what he’d seen the night before, Til concentrates on the memory. The map and the towns had only been uncovered a little while. The crystals had covered most of it too soon for him to memorize anything, but at least he’d known their direction.
“Well, we’re not going north, east, or south,” Til says aloud, more to himself than to Noan, but loud enough for the other to hear.
“How clever you are to know the direction we’re headed.” Noan drawls, not even giving Til the satisfaction of looking his way.
Feeling the flush of embarrassment heating up his cheeks and ears, Til thinks Noan is taking far too much pleasure in having all the information to himself. He can’t be surprised that the King’s favorite would know all the details, all the specifics that would certainly make this all the easier, but Noan keeps it to himself, choosing not to say anything. Fighting the blush, Till looks at the other, trying to compel him to say something, anything, to give him even a hint of where they were going, or what to expect.
This, this not knowing, this was one of the few things that could, and would, send Til right over the edge.
Unfortunately, Til’s silent attempts to force Noan to speak were fruitless. He has to get the information in another way, one that would also be much harder.
“I wasn’t aware there was much in this direction worth looking at, let alone stealing from,” Til says conversationally, as though discussing the weather.
“There’s not, not really. With how often fighting rolls this way, the swarms of bandits, I wouldn’t want to live here.” Noan’s gaze never leaves the road, but there’s something in his voice that leaves Til wondering what the Wizard had left behind when he’d gone to the castle. “And it’s certainly less populated than most of the kingdom, but still, there are those who choose to make their homes here.”
“Enough for some foe to try to steal them?” Til asks, adding on, “Who do you really think is behind this?”
“Why do you ask? Aren’t you supposed to follow the King’s word on all things?”
“Perhaps I wanted to know what you thought.”
“Whoever or whatever they are doesn’t matter; all that matters is they’re starting here, where the fighting was once strongest.” Noan’s voice has a note in it that pulls Til’s curiosity back to the forefront of his mind.
“It’s been a long time since there was fighting through here,” Til says loud enough to be sure Noan can hear him, but softer, he adds, “There used to be a great city near the border before that.”
Noan’s head flicks to look at Til, eyes big with shock.
Then his brows drop, and he looks over Til, seemingly searching for something. Though what, the knight doesn’t know. Eventually, Noan says, “I’ve heard of it, Dana City. I’m surprised you know of it.”
“My family often passed through when I was a child,” Til tells him openly. There’s no need for him to hide the half-truth. He hopes that sharing something of his own past might persuade the other to share about himself. “But I suppose it belonged to an age done and gone now.”
“Is that why you became a knight?”
Looking ahead to a small copse of trees, wary even with the knowledge none would be so bold as to attack a knight this close to the capital city, Til considers. “I wouldn’t say it’s the only thing that led me down my path, but it weighed into my choices.”
“You wouldn't be the only one. Disaster leads so many people to the capital.” Noan looks back to the road, shoulders higher than they were before, more tense, “I won’t even think of how many will be brought there by this tragedy.”
“You think the missing children will lead people to the capital?” Til nudges; he wants to know more, and this is the first opening that Noan’s given him.
Shaking his head, Noan answers, “In one way or another.”
Yanking the reins in hand, Noan abruptly turns his horse down a dirt path that could easily pass for a well-used deer trail. “Come on, I think this will lead us where we want to go.”
“Which is where exactly?” Til asks, turning his horse around to follow Noan.
“If we go this way, “ Noan explains slowly, like he’s talking to a child, “it’ll take us past where some of the disappearances have already happened; we might be able to cut off the enemy this way.”
In spite of the condescending tone of his voice, Til still hears the unspoken words, “And we might be able to save more of the children.”
Til has so many questions, so many gaps in his knowledge. How is he supposed to be able to help if he doesn’t have the answers? He needs to know more, to have more to work with.
But he knows that even if he asks, he won’t get the answers he seeks.
How’s a knight supposed to plan anything under these circumstances?
“Do we know how many of the Touched we’re looking for?” Til asks, realizing as he speaks how broad the question is, he tacks on, “Or even where?”
Noan sucks his teeth, loudly, “Well, we do. Somewhat. We’re going to some of the smaller villages, ones that are more easily overlooked-”
Til listens, thinking of how close they were to having to deal with the children. Til hadn’t spent a lot of time around children, not since he himself had been one. And even before he’d come to the capital to learn and train, he’d been more focused on learning from his elders. He hadn’t had time to spend around babes or little children, and when he did have them cross his path, he usually did his best to return them to a parent before they started crying. Traveling with the children was by far the least appealing portion of this while quest, and he certainly wasn’t looking forward to it.
“-which might still have children capable of truly incredible things. They’re the kind of places Donner wouldn't bother sending an emissary to. Too small, too few people, too little need for goodwill from them. And the children won’t really know until they find their key, you know? So many people don’t even know they’re Touched, and if they make it out of childhood without learning they can heal, or harm, or make a rainstorm-”
If he’d had the time, Til would have learned at least the basics of childcare; that would probably have saved him some trouble. Maybe it wouldn’t all be bad, though? Perhaps the children would be more focused on the shiny Wizard and what they themselves might be capable of doing.
“-But once they find they can do that one thing, once they begin learning, they’ll be able to learn how to do all kinds of amazing things. Things they never even dreamed possible. But they need to be taught by a good teacher, who will push them towards good-”
With any luck, Til wouldn’t have to deal with the children.
Noan could; he had to spend time with the Touched children, and he was probably good at it.
And Til could protect them all.
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Turning again to lie flat on his back, Til can’t be sure how much he’d slept, if at all. In the closed, dark chambers he calls his own, time is impossible to track, and the lines between wakefulness and sleep are blurry at best.
In the darkness, unable to tell if his eyes were open, Til wondered if he’d really agreed to an impossible quest, or if that was an interrupted dream lingering on. Focusing, Til tried to listen for what may have woken him, if he’d been sleeping at all. But there was little sound in the room, likely designed that way on purpose. Only the alarm bells rung jarringly loud in these rooms, though that had only happened a handful of times in Til’s time here. Even the morning bells weren’t that loud, and could be slept through by the stubborn.
Til prepared himself to continue languishing in his semi-dozing state, only for a sharp rap at his door to rouse him.
“Honored Tanner! It’s time! You are required at the gate!” A voice from the other side announces.
Til grunted something, it could have been words, he couldn’t be sure which, though, and set about readying himself in the darkness, possibly for the last time.
He shakes the thought from his head as he opens the door quickly, blinking quickly, trying to get his eyes to adjust as he leaves his chamber. There’s no one else around, but Til had expected that. The glittering predawn light barely touches this hall, and even if it did, the bells still hadn’t tolled, and the changing of the guard wouldn’t happen till well after dawn.
There wasn’t much Til would need for this journey, his weapons settling familiarly against his form, and the bag he carried only holding a few odds and ends, like a heavier, less embroidered cloak that would help keep him warm in the nights. One of the cooks had already packed a kit of food for him, and several sleepy maids who’d woken early or hadn’t yet gone to sleep told him they’d miss him and wished him a safe journey.
He’d been sure it would take longer, that there’d be more action, attention to the undertaking he was about to go on. But the gray of the very early morning was punctuated most of all by quiet.
The last thing he’d need was a horse, which a bleary-eyed stable hand led out to him. Stoney, an unimaginatively named stone-grey mare, was the only horse Til could think to take with him. He’d become somewhat fond of; for her easy demeanor and ability to follow even some of the more incredible demands made of her. She’d already been geared up and had saddlebags packed and on her back as well.
As the stable-boy stumbled away, likely to try to get what little rest he could before the hustle and bustle of the day, Til looked forward toward the quest he was somehow taking on.
Guiding the horse to the front gate, Til couldn’t help muttering a few reassurances to her, promising to at least get her back even if he failed in every other way.
She walked beside him, a silent and only witness to his departure from the castle.
This was surely an occasion that should be treated with great cheers, with great crowds cheering him, them, on as they went. But as the King had explained, they were trying to ensure that whoever was at fault for taking the children didn’t know they’d been noticed, so that they might catch them in the act and say with certainty who was at fault. A part of it didn’t sound right to Til, but he’d shaken it off.
He was serving his King and Country.
What the King said he was to follow and trust in his leadership, even if he didn’t understand it.
Waiting for him is an individual covered in a rust-colored cloak on a white, mottled black horse, whose coat has been brushed to shimmer, looking like the night sky had been made into their personal steed. Black boots had also been shined, and above them, dark fabric hugged strong thighs, which disappeared under the cloak. Dark leather gloves held the reins in a loose but sure grip. The rider’s face was hidden by the cloak and the dark as they faced out, looking at the world they were about to take on.
Til wondered who it would be; the person was almost certainly a wizard. There’d been plenty who’d passed through the castle over the years. Children mostly, though a handful in the early bloom of adulthood stayed within the castle walls, teaching the other children and enjoying freedoms the likes of which few could imagine, let alone attain.
“Hale, Wizard,” Til calls as greeting, wondering if this is the one he was supposed to meet, and if they were one he’d met before, or a stranger.
“There you are, Honored Tanner.” The cloaked figure calls him by name and greets him warmly. A laugh is hidden in his words as he continues, “I was wondering if I’d have to send another page to get you.”
It’s Noan.
Noan Isle, the King’s right-hand Wizard, would be the one to accompany Til?
Til couldn’t believe it; he was shocked and somewhat appalled, as this couldn't be right. He may have needed some kind of backup, but surely there had to be someone who was a better choice, someone other than Isle.
He was the King’s favorite. He’s been at the King’s side for almost as long as Til had been in Sunotoma.
Why would the King be so willing to put him in danger?
Til’s mouth moves faster than the rest of him, “What are you doing out here, Wizard? Shouldn’t the King be sending one of his less favored wizards?”
Noan’s head tilts, a knowing smile on his lips that doesn’t quite meet the darkness in his eyes, “The King knew he could entrust his favorites, both of his favorites, to this task. Now, we have places to be, Honored. Children to save. Enough with the gawking, and let’s get going.”
With a pointed look, Noan snaps his reins and races off, leaving Til to mount his horse as quick as he’s able.
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