A/N-This contains SPOILERS for The Warlock. Just so everyone know. If you don't mind spoilers, or have already read the book, read on!
Disclaimer: I don't own this. Everything-everything-belongs to Michael Scott.
Please read/review! This is friendship! I only write friendship...
Summary: Missing scene...Will's reunion with his friends after the events of the vimana attack.
Solid Ground
The rope chafed his hands as he slid down it. Will felt the rough surface tear into his skin, drawing blood. The sight of the dark liquid brought back flashing images of the vimanas, the anpu, the smoking end of the tonborigi. He could hear it all again: the anpu's cries as they were blown up, the screaming of the vimanas as their metal insides ripped apart before plummeting to the sea below. He could feel the smooth surface of the tonborigi beneath his fingers once again, and he remembered the brief feeling of power that the weapon had given him. His stomach twisted, and he closed his eyes, trying to block out the rush of emotions and memories that had him in danger of letting go of the rope, of falling to the ground below...his eyes snapped open as he tightened his grip, and he realized for the first time that he couldn't' hardly see out of his glasses. They were grimy and covered in a red liquid.
The ground was suddenly beneath his feet, and he staggered, letting go of the rope, pushing himself away from the shadow of the vimana hovering above him. His legs were shaking, like jelly, and he couldn't stand. Black spots alternated with the red smears on his glasses, and the world seemed to be undulating, as if it were an image in a pond, and someone had tossed a stone into the middle of it, causing the ripples to distort everything. Everything was cold, and his chest hurt as he tried to breathe. He felt his legs give way beneath him, knees buckling , and he reached for the rope that wasn't there as he crumpled towards the debris-covered ground.
And then strong arms had him, supporting him, pulling him upwards, steering him out of the wreckage.
"Shush," a deep, lilting voice soothed, hushing the ragged sobs that Will felt rather than heard coming from him. "Shush, now, Will. It's okay."
Breath after breath came out harsh and panicked, and Will could feel the shaking moving from his legs to his whole being. His teeth chattered, and he dug his fingers into Palamedes' arm, struggling to hold himself up. He something, and was vaguely aware that he hadn't spoken in Engish, though he didn't have the mental capacity to figure out which language he had used.
"Shush," Palamedes repeated, using the Babylonian of his youth.
Will's legs finally refused to work anymore, and he slipped to the ground, his chest burning as he tried to breath. He felt Palamedes kneel next to him, and then the Saracen Knight was embracing him, comforting him, rocking him back and forth as the tears overwhelmed him.
"Shhhhh...it's over. It's over."
Over. It was over. It was blessedly, beautifully over, and the realization made Will sob all the harder.
He heard voices-Francis and Joan-murmuring in the background, but he ignored them, burying his face in Palamedes' shirt, hiding from the world. All the while Palamedes' deep voice continued to speak softly, soothingly, petty words of comfort. But Will felt safer than he had felt since Dee's betrayal. He remembered once telling Kit Marlowe, a friend of his, that the world seemed to refuse to solidify beneath his feet. Kit had laughed at him, and told him that he was too much of a poet for his own good. That hadn't stopped Will from hoping that one day the earth would stop moving. That he would find solid ground.
It had taken centuries, but he was pretty sure that he had found it.
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