Title: Honor Him
Summary: I really feel that Kennedy deserves a shit load more than he died getting, so here is my little tribute. I love you, Archie!
Archive: Want it?
Disclaimer: A lot of big jerks own Archie and HH themes.
Comments: Being the idiot that I am, I don't know what year Kennedy actually died in. Am I even close? Can one of you tell me? Thanks heaps!
Feedback: kimmie@quincymail.com
She held a little wicker basket in one hand, filled with wildflowers from along the dirt road. Her eyes wide with wonder, she slowly walked to the small wooden cross, a lonely testament on a little hill a long way from the beaten road. When she reached the cross, she sat on the grassy mound and reached out to touch it. She'd never seen a grave before. The little white cross read only a name.
"Lieutenant Archibald Kennedy 1784." She read, running her fingers across the engraved letters.
She wondered who he was idly as she set her basket down. No one else was anywhere near, and she was sure no one would ever find this lonely little tomb. Suddenly she felt immensely sorry for the lonely man, destined to be isolated forever. Isabel, as she was called, frowned at this thought. She was too young to understand what this meant, but at 14 years, she did know that loneliness was not a pleasant thing.
"Who are you?" She whispered, looking solemnly on the cross and the forest clearing beyond. "I suppose it doesn't matter. I can make up something, and that will be much more fun. Let's see; you were a Lieutenant. I suppose you were in the military. Maybe the Navy, because Kingston is far away from England. You were very important, because you are a Lieutenant, and that must be high in ranks. Your ship, a very large grand one, at that, came here to get more food, and you had a battle just off the coast. You are very brave, and fought for England with all your heart, but a nasty Frenchman hurt you, and you died in the hospital, with many of your friends to guide your soul." Isabel smiled a little at this part.
"It was a very sad day, the day you died, and everyone cried buckets and barrels, because you were so nice and brave. Then, they decided that because you loved nature, they would bury you apart from the busy town in this beautiful clearing. There was no time for a proper marker, so your loyal crew put together this handmade cross, and carved in your name. You don't have to be alone anymore, Mr. Kennedy. I'll come every day, and I can talk to you. You are a nice man." She leaned forward and kissed the little cross.
Isabel stood and took up her basket. With a brief pause, she stooped and placed three of the most beautiful wildflowers she had gathered, and with a smile, she began to walk away. Suddenly, she stopped, covering her mouth with both hands. Her basket dropped tot he ground, spilling the colorful contents over the grass. A young man, blonde and smiling was coming from the forest. His eyes shone, and were a blue, bluer than the sea on a calm day. One hand was stretched toward her.
Isabel could only stare. "Are you Mr. Kennedy?" She asked, trying to keep from running away.
"Yes. I wanted to thank you." Isabel slowly lowered her hands, and reached out to touch his extended one.
To her surprise, it was warm, as though he was still alive. "Ghosts thank people?" Her voice became steadier.
"This one does." His smile grew wider. "You are very kind. I like your story." Isabel smiled shyly.
"Well, was I right?" Kennedy didn't falter.
"Yes, mostly. Lieutenants aren't really that high in rank." Archie had no wish to shatter her illusion.
"Oh. I have to go home, Lieutenant. Will you promise to come again, if I tell you another story?" Her face was hopeful.
"Yes. But you must do me a favor." Isabel looked up, and nodded.
"Call me Archie. All my friends do." Isabel smiled brightly.
"All right. Goodbye, Archie. I'll come back to visit you tomorrow!" With a childish giggle, she picked up her basket and ran away, stopping to wave as he disappeared.
Summary: I really feel that Kennedy deserves a shit load more than he died getting, so here is my little tribute. I love you, Archie!
Archive: Want it?
Disclaimer: A lot of big jerks own Archie and HH themes.
Comments: Being the idiot that I am, I don't know what year Kennedy actually died in. Am I even close? Can one of you tell me? Thanks heaps!
Feedback: kimmie@quincymail.com
She held a little wicker basket in one hand, filled with wildflowers from along the dirt road. Her eyes wide with wonder, she slowly walked to the small wooden cross, a lonely testament on a little hill a long way from the beaten road. When she reached the cross, she sat on the grassy mound and reached out to touch it. She'd never seen a grave before. The little white cross read only a name.
"Lieutenant Archibald Kennedy 1784." She read, running her fingers across the engraved letters.
She wondered who he was idly as she set her basket down. No one else was anywhere near, and she was sure no one would ever find this lonely little tomb. Suddenly she felt immensely sorry for the lonely man, destined to be isolated forever. Isabel, as she was called, frowned at this thought. She was too young to understand what this meant, but at 14 years, she did know that loneliness was not a pleasant thing.
"Who are you?" She whispered, looking solemnly on the cross and the forest clearing beyond. "I suppose it doesn't matter. I can make up something, and that will be much more fun. Let's see; you were a Lieutenant. I suppose you were in the military. Maybe the Navy, because Kingston is far away from England. You were very important, because you are a Lieutenant, and that must be high in ranks. Your ship, a very large grand one, at that, came here to get more food, and you had a battle just off the coast. You are very brave, and fought for England with all your heart, but a nasty Frenchman hurt you, and you died in the hospital, with many of your friends to guide your soul." Isabel smiled a little at this part.
"It was a very sad day, the day you died, and everyone cried buckets and barrels, because you were so nice and brave. Then, they decided that because you loved nature, they would bury you apart from the busy town in this beautiful clearing. There was no time for a proper marker, so your loyal crew put together this handmade cross, and carved in your name. You don't have to be alone anymore, Mr. Kennedy. I'll come every day, and I can talk to you. You are a nice man." She leaned forward and kissed the little cross.
Isabel stood and took up her basket. With a brief pause, she stooped and placed three of the most beautiful wildflowers she had gathered, and with a smile, she began to walk away. Suddenly, she stopped, covering her mouth with both hands. Her basket dropped tot he ground, spilling the colorful contents over the grass. A young man, blonde and smiling was coming from the forest. His eyes shone, and were a blue, bluer than the sea on a calm day. One hand was stretched toward her.
Isabel could only stare. "Are you Mr. Kennedy?" She asked, trying to keep from running away.
"Yes. I wanted to thank you." Isabel slowly lowered her hands, and reached out to touch his extended one.
To her surprise, it was warm, as though he was still alive. "Ghosts thank people?" Her voice became steadier.
"This one does." His smile grew wider. "You are very kind. I like your story." Isabel smiled shyly.
"Well, was I right?" Kennedy didn't falter.
"Yes, mostly. Lieutenants aren't really that high in rank." Archie had no wish to shatter her illusion.
"Oh. I have to go home, Lieutenant. Will you promise to come again, if I tell you another story?" Her face was hopeful.
"Yes. But you must do me a favor." Isabel looked up, and nodded.
"Call me Archie. All my friends do." Isabel smiled brightly.
"All right. Goodbye, Archie. I'll come back to visit you tomorrow!" With a childish giggle, she picked up her basket and ran away, stopping to wave as he disappeared.