Disclaimer: These are not original characters.
I.
"What is that?" Paul asked, eyeing the parchment in the hands of his comrade.
Luke blinked once, confused. He followed Paul's gaze to the scroll resting within his tightly curled fingers – God forbid that such an important piece of parchment be mislaid at any point on the long journey that spread out before them.
"It's a scroll," Luke offered simply, raising his hand to allow Paul to inspect it more closely, though he kept his grip on it as tight as ever.
Paul sighed as he reached forward to pluck the scroll from Luke's hand; the physician seemed reluctant at first to let go of it, but eventually, he yielded to his comrade. Paul carefully unfolded it, reading the mere two words that Luke had managed to articulate so far.
"Theophilius?" Paul questioned, his brow quirking slightly at the name. An excited smile erupted on Luke's face as he took the scroll back from Paul. "What are you planning with that?"
Luke's beam shifted into a mischievous smirk. "You'll see."
II.
"Luke!" The sound of a voice screaming in terror threatened to steal him away from his concentration. "We have to go! Now!"
Luke scowled at the interruption, still bent over the scroll and scratching feverishly at it. "Hang on!" he called, far too engrossed in his work for his brain to supply him with a name or a face associated with the voice which had addressed him.
"We can't," the voice growled, its owner now next to him and tugging roughly on the shoulder of his shirt. "We're in danger, we have to get out of here!"
"Let me finish my sentence!" Luke all but shrieked, turning his head slightly towards the irksome man beside him, but he never tore his gaze away from the black smudges on the parchment laid out before him.
"Well, hurry up!"
Luke gave him a non-committal grunt as he increased his writing pace, his hand flying over the parchment as he raced to finish his sentence. He could feel the anxiety rolling off of the man next to him in waves.
"Come on!"
"Done!" he declared, finishing with a flourish. He had no sooner exclaimed this than he was pulled rather roughly to his feet and dragged backwards; he scrambled forwards for the scroll, grabbing it and holding it tightly to his chest as he was pulled away to safety.
III.
It was on a lazy day that Paul came and sat next to Luke; the physician was sitting on the floor, his legs crossed, and his growing scroll rolled out over his lap. Paul looked over the impressive piece of parchment – patched together in some places, ripped in others, but nevertheless handled with care by its faithful owner – as Luke hunched over it, scribbling away.
"How far have you got?" Paul asked innocently, drawing his friend's attention from his sentence.
"Nearly halfway," Luke answered, glancing up at the black lines which he had already written, before turning back to his current sentence.
"You're doing well," Paul commented, with a slight nod.
"Thanks," Luke replied, his voice dulled slightly by his lack of concentration on the conversation.
Paul said nothing else, sensing that Luke would rather be left alone to his work; it was so rare that they got lazy days like these, when he could just sit back and work away, writing and writing and writing…
He stayed by his side, though, keeping him company as he poured out his biography.
IV.
He was beginning to question why they even attempted to travel by boat anymore. The water was freezing as they were dumped rather unceremoniously into it, gasping and coughing as the savage wind and the wild waves forced salty water down their throats.
"Paul!" Luke called at the top of his voice when his head finally emerged above the water, before the tempest pulled him under once more. He heard no reply from his friend, but he had to believe that he was alright – that this wasn't how it ended.
Luke flailed underwater, trying to hit the water at the right angle to propel himself above the surface, but it was moving in too many directions, flinging him from side to side. Dots began to appear in his field of vision as he struggled harder and harder to breathe, the water unrelenting.
Eventually, however, a strong current pushed him upwards, and his head broke the surface. With a great gasp, he filled his lungs with much-needed oxygen, breathing in deeply as he began to tread water. He could see no one else around him, but there was one thing that he could see: his scroll, floating innocently on the surface, some fifty yards away.
Desperately, he surged towards it, reaching out to grab it and secure its safety.
"Luke!" Paul's unmistakable voice reached his ears from somewhere behind him. "You're going the wrong way!"
Luke paid no attention, instead taking hold of the scroll as soon as it was within reach, ignoring the pleas of his friend as he fought to save his work.
V.
"I've finished!" Luke exclaimed ecstatically, a beam breaking out on his face as he lifted the scroll high up in the air.
"Well done," Paul nodded, staring up at the article in the hands of his friend and marvelling at how far he had come.
Paul had no idea how many words that Luke had scribbled and scrawled onto that piece of parchment, only that he had slaved over it for months and years as they travelled together around the known world. The scroll was no longer the small, neat object it had been when Luke had first reluctantly shown it to him; now, it was patch-worked and heavy and not nearly as pretty; but it was a labour of love, and Luke had done well.