Getting Acquainted
"This will only take a moment," Kevin said in reply to the look of discomfiture on Gilbert's face as he unrolled a few bandages. After Gilbert had woken from his impromptu faint Kevin had decided he would be taking a better look at his head wound. Gilbert had reluctantly agreed as he had no desire to experience Kevin smacking him awake again. His face was still stinging and he couldn't help but wonder if this was really an appropriate way to treat a patient.
Kevin began wrapping the bandages about Gilbert's head in a precise fashion. Gilbert suspected he had done this sort of thing before.
"Have you any other injuries I should know of?"
"I think my head is the worst of it," Gilbert sighed. "It usually is," he added as an afterthought. Kevin gave him a strange look at that but said nothing.
"Where are you taking me?" Gilbert asked once Kevin seemed satisfied the bandages wouldn't come off; Gilbert personally found them to be a bit tight.
Kevin hummed thoughtfully as he mounted his mare; he gestured for Gilbert to follow suit.
Once they were trotting along the road once more Kevin began to speak. "You may not know this but this road is currently off limits. I had to get special permission to use it. Frankly, I ought to be taking you to the jailer." Gilbert wanted to protest this but stopped as Kevin continued. "I won't be doing that though."
"Why not?"
"You seem like one of the most harmless individuals I've ever chanced upon." There was definitely a wisp of amusement in his voice. Gilbert twitched in indignation.
"All right, so why is this road closed? It seems perfectly normal to me."
"If only it were. As it is, this road has been closed as it leads to Sablier; the Sinclairs were worried a certain family might be using it for their own ends and I was sent to investigate. One can only wonder how you ended up here. You're clearly not of a high enough status to belong to any important family."
Gilbert frowned at the offhanded manner Kevin relayed all this; at least Kevin didn't seem to think he was an enemy. If this man really was Break, and Gilbert was still having a hard time believing that despite all the evidence, then the Sinclairs had yet to be massacred and Break had yet to reset time. Furthermore, it meant Gilbert had truly traveled into the past.
Gilbert racked his memory in the vague hope he would remember something useful. There was nothing there save for the ghost of a voice he could barely recall. Instead of pursue that course of action Gilbert decided it would be more prudent to analyze what he already knew of the situation.
He was fully dressed and had been since he had awoken. He was in his standard black trench coat and hat so he mustn't have been doing anything for the Nightrays. More likely he had been helping Oz, which meant he'd almost certainly been around Pandora.
The only conclusion Gilbert could reach was something must have gone wrong in a battle with a Chain. It was hardly conclusive—and not all that helpful at the moment—but at least he had something to work with. At least he had an idea of why everything hurt.
It suddenly occurred to him Kevin had never answered where he was taking him if not a jail cell. Apparently Kevin was just as secretive as his future self. It wasn't something Gilbert was particularly happy about.
Several hours later and they had reached a modest city. Gilbert observed the people carefully. They were certainly staring at him. It was a subtle thing, their staring; they didn't break from whatever activity they had been doing before whether it was haggling over loaves of bread, juggling for the entertainment of bystanders, or hanging clothes to dry. He could see two boys attempting to steal a few pears—they were almost surely orphans. Something about the scene made Gilbert's heart constrict. Vague images of Vincent and him fluttered through his mind but he quickly stamped them out. He didn't want to remember. Not ever.
Kevin seemed to have noticed the boys as well but he simply continued on his way to wherever they were going. Gilbert surprised himself with how grateful he felt about this.
"Here we are," Kevin announced as they stopped in front of a relatively large building. "This is the city of Ansel. It's within the outskirts of the House of Sinclair. Right here," he gestured toward the building, "is the Fox-eyed Tavern. We'll be staying here for the night." At some point day had turned to night; Gilbert was worried to note he hadn't quite noticed when that had happened, so lost in thought had he been this whole time.
Gilbert looked up at the tavern and noticed the tavern sign had a huge fox head painted on it, which quickly explained the name. He wasn't looking forward to staying at a tavern. Taverns were mostly drinking establishments in his time period but in Kevin's they doubled as motels. Gilbert remembered one of the Nightrays' history books discussing the often immoral business conducted in the shadows of taverns. There had been a case where several officials had been murdered in such a place, which had put an end to room and board. Gilbert sincerely hoped this wasn't that particular tavern.
Kevin called a stable boy over to feed and look after his horse while they went inside. It was a dimly lit room with roughly hewn furniture. The fireplace was quite large and in the center of the back wall crackling merrily. There were only a few occupants and none were sitting together. Gilbert was struck by the thought any one of them could have been an assassin and Kevin really looked far too wealthy to be ignored. Gilbert really didn't like drawing attention to them in such a manner; surely Kevin would know they wouldn't blend in well in such a place.
Despite this, Kevin glided across the room to the innkeeper and plopped a few coins on the table. Gilbert reluctantly followed. The innkeeper raised an eyebrow at the two of them but accepted the money.
"Here's some mead," he said gruffly. "Your room is the farthest down the hall on the right."
He plopped two mugs of mead in front of them and busied himself with cleaning the tables with the filthiest looking rag Gilbert had ever seen. He had to actively resist snatching it from him to do all the cleaning himself. He wasn't a servant here. He wasn't anybody.
Kevin sniffed the mead and took a small sip. "So," he began.
"So?" Gilbert replied, eyeing his mead with some trepidation.
"You have no memory."
"Right."
"You were injured."
"That's correct."
"You must have been in some kind of fight then."
"I suppose so."
There was silence as Kevin seemed to mull this over. "What do you intend to do?"
That was an excellent question. Gilbert had been thinking about that for the whole trip and he wasn't sure he had a whole lot of options.
"I'm not sure," Gilbert admitted. "I guess I'll have to look around to see if I can find any way home."
"Have you any idea where that is?"
Gilbert thought about this for a moment and came to a conclusion.
"Reveille." It was where he was living in his time; perhaps there would be clues there. Gilbert didn't want to acknowledge he didn't have any idea what he was doing and a significant part of him was hoping if he went to Reveille he would magically be transported back to his own time.
"The new capital?" Kevin mused. "I should be able to get you there after I make my report to the Sinclairs."
Gilbert blinked. He hadn't thought Kevin would want to stick with him. He had figured he'd be on his own in this little journey.
"You mean you want to travel with me?"
Kevin pushed his mug away from himself as he said, "I find you interesting; knights don't often have companions and it can become tiresome. More importantly, you seem like you'd be a bit useless on your own."
Gilbert flushed in frustration, the gently teasing quality of Kevin's voice completely lost on him. He wasn't useless! Why did everyone he met seem to think he was? He jumped when Kevin placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's getting late; let's get some rest." There was a slightly apologetic air about him that convinced Gilbert to let the matter lie.
It was only when Gilbert was lying in bed and Kevin was sleeping that he wondered about the first part of Kevin's admission. It had sounded so honest, nothing like the half truths Break would tell on a regular basis. He was probably drunk, Gilbert figured. There was no way any version of Break could be lonely and he certainly wouldn't admit to it.
As the hours dragged on and Gilbert found himself lying awake he allowed himself to fully acknowledge how much trouble he was in. He was lying in a ratty tavern bed, the window didn't have any blinds so he could see the starry night sky, and there was a complete stranger lying across from him. He wiped at his eyes; he wished Oz was there or even Alice. In Gilbert's time they could tease him a bit and then comfort him in their own odd way and he would get annoyed and pretend nothing had happened. In Gilbert's time Vincent would be there fussing over him and saying strange things or Sharon would offer a nice cup of tea and a bit of advice or Break could harass him the way he always did.
Gilbert turned so he was facing the wall. He didn't think Kevin was awake but just in case he was he didn't want him to know just how miserable he actually felt. His life wasn't always wonderful—actually, it usually wasn't in the slightest—but he had people he could care for.
He never realized how much he had taken that for granted until now.
It was with these thoughts churning through his mind he finally fell into a restless sleep dreaming of things that should be.
