Brian Braddock huddled within the dome of his light-house home as lightening arced
across a dark and angry sky, the rocky outcropping upon which his "tower" sat battered
by relentless waves as he tried to block out the voices….
Voices of the lost… voices of those damned by their calling….
His former peers, the august body called the Captain Britain Corps…defenders of the
Isles and all that Camelot had ever stood for haunted him as relentlessly as the waves
that battered the coast of Britain.
Why, Brian??
Dozens of hands reached for him, as though they would pull him beneath the waves
as well, and the voices kept calling to him….
Why did you forsake us?
The faces of every Captain Britain he'd ever met focused into view… variations of himself, or his sister, Liz, or even their late, unlamented brother, Jamie….
There were no answers, and there seemed to be no escaping the more insistent interrogative: WHY?
He tried to run, but there were too many of them, too many voices….
…was this how Liz felt when her telepathy had first come upon her?
He awoke with a scream… his voice echoing through out the halls of Braddock
Manor….
He awoke as he tumbled out of bed, clocking his aching head on the floor, his fey
bride, Meggan hovering over him, with a great deal of concern in her leaf-green
eyes, "Brian?! What is it?"
"no…no more…" he whispered, rubbing the aching lump on his head, ignoring her
as he tried to get his bearings.
"What's wrong, luv?" she asked again as her slender form grew stronger, altering
as she lifted him back up onto the bed, "Ye've had another one of yer nightmares,
haven't ye?"
Brian shook his head, shrugging off her ministering hands, "Bloody hell, Meg, It's..
it's.. just a bloody dream…."
Meggan raised her voice, something the empathic metamorph rarely did, but right
now, she knew she was right, "Sod it, Brian! Dreams don't wake ye, screaming in
the middle of the night! And certainly not for months at a time!"
Brian didn't answer her as he mustered enough strength to get off the bed and stagger
into the bathroom… He needed a drink. It was just a nightcap… just enough so that
he could sleep…
Meggan knocked on the door, calling through it, hoping he'd hear her, "I'm yer wife,
darling…. If something's wrong, ye can tell me!"
She heard the lock click just before the water started running in the shower…..
The fey changeling slipped downstairs, finding the phone by it's peculiar plasticy smell,
and dialed the international operator, hearing a man's voice after several seconds of
delay, "United States Operator, how may I connect your call?"
Back in the bathroom in the master suite, Brian sat under the cold spray of the shower,
swigging Scotch from a silver flask he'd hidden in there some time back… concealed
where his nagging, clingy wife couldn't find it… It's firey, distinctive taste was a far better
lover… it soothed the visions and chased away the nightmares so that he could sleep.
He toweled himself off and concealed the now empty flask, vowing to refill it later, when
she was otherwise occupied…
He brushed his teeth, and took a swig of mouthrinse to chase away the telltale signs of
his drinking. Splashing cold water on his face to help wake himself up, and then he looked into the mirror…
That was Mistake Number One, he thought as he stood transfixed by the vision, of forests and castles aflame, and the flickering form of Roma, wearing a strange ruby
medallion around her neck… her eyes glowed an uncharacteristic crimson shade, and
when he stopped to rub his eyes, he looked back…and it was gone.
He saw the stupefied expression on his own face leering back at him as he retrieved
his towel, and finished getting ready to head into the labs for another long day's work.
"bloody hell…." he muttered as he left the bathroom and headed for his dressing room
to find some clothes… he never saw the menacing form that leaned out of the mirror
watching him leave…
across a dark and angry sky, the rocky outcropping upon which his "tower" sat battered
by relentless waves as he tried to block out the voices….
Voices of the lost… voices of those damned by their calling….
His former peers, the august body called the Captain Britain Corps…defenders of the
Isles and all that Camelot had ever stood for haunted him as relentlessly as the waves
that battered the coast of Britain.
Why, Brian??
Dozens of hands reached for him, as though they would pull him beneath the waves
as well, and the voices kept calling to him….
Why did you forsake us?
The faces of every Captain Britain he'd ever met focused into view… variations of himself, or his sister, Liz, or even their late, unlamented brother, Jamie….
There were no answers, and there seemed to be no escaping the more insistent interrogative: WHY?
He tried to run, but there were too many of them, too many voices….
…was this how Liz felt when her telepathy had first come upon her?
He awoke with a scream… his voice echoing through out the halls of Braddock
Manor….
He awoke as he tumbled out of bed, clocking his aching head on the floor, his fey
bride, Meggan hovering over him, with a great deal of concern in her leaf-green
eyes, "Brian?! What is it?"
"no…no more…" he whispered, rubbing the aching lump on his head, ignoring her
as he tried to get his bearings.
"What's wrong, luv?" she asked again as her slender form grew stronger, altering
as she lifted him back up onto the bed, "Ye've had another one of yer nightmares,
haven't ye?"
Brian shook his head, shrugging off her ministering hands, "Bloody hell, Meg, It's..
it's.. just a bloody dream…."
Meggan raised her voice, something the empathic metamorph rarely did, but right
now, she knew she was right, "Sod it, Brian! Dreams don't wake ye, screaming in
the middle of the night! And certainly not for months at a time!"
Brian didn't answer her as he mustered enough strength to get off the bed and stagger
into the bathroom… He needed a drink. It was just a nightcap… just enough so that
he could sleep…
Meggan knocked on the door, calling through it, hoping he'd hear her, "I'm yer wife,
darling…. If something's wrong, ye can tell me!"
She heard the lock click just before the water started running in the shower…..
The fey changeling slipped downstairs, finding the phone by it's peculiar plasticy smell,
and dialed the international operator, hearing a man's voice after several seconds of
delay, "United States Operator, how may I connect your call?"
Back in the bathroom in the master suite, Brian sat under the cold spray of the shower,
swigging Scotch from a silver flask he'd hidden in there some time back… concealed
where his nagging, clingy wife couldn't find it… It's firey, distinctive taste was a far better
lover… it soothed the visions and chased away the nightmares so that he could sleep.
He toweled himself off and concealed the now empty flask, vowing to refill it later, when
she was otherwise occupied…
He brushed his teeth, and took a swig of mouthrinse to chase away the telltale signs of
his drinking. Splashing cold water on his face to help wake himself up, and then he looked into the mirror…
That was Mistake Number One, he thought as he stood transfixed by the vision, of forests and castles aflame, and the flickering form of Roma, wearing a strange ruby
medallion around her neck… her eyes glowed an uncharacteristic crimson shade, and
when he stopped to rub his eyes, he looked back…and it was gone.
He saw the stupefied expression on his own face leering back at him as he retrieved
his towel, and finished getting ready to head into the labs for another long day's work.
"bloody hell…." he muttered as he left the bathroom and headed for his dressing room
to find some clothes… he never saw the menacing form that leaned out of the mirror
watching him leave…