Disclaimer: not mine
There was something to be said about bonfires, Jenny thought to herself. Even if they did bring back memories of cities now skeletons of brick and ash.
The flames that licked towards the stars were hot enough to make her cheeks flush even a dozen paces away. No Guy Fawkes effigy upon the pyre, but several people were roasting marshmallows over the flames and handing out the sticky treats to the children sat safely out of reach of danger.
It could have been any November the fifth from her childhood were it not for the scorch marks that
burnt a trail through the grass towards the forest.
Of course in her experience Guy Fawkes night wasn't usually the world's most awkward date.
And was it really a date?
And November the fifth was a bit of an odd choice for a first date after an apocalypse.
And there wasn't usually a ridiculously good looking man next to her whose restless dark eyes roved the crowds of revellers, but flicked towards her every time he thought she wasn't looking.
And there wasn't Lucan who she definitely shouldn't have said "hello" to when she found him without realising that it came with the caveat Feed the kid once and think that you are just going to walk away? To consider.
And...Jenny tried to wrestle her thoughts into some sort of order and remain calm and composed. Winding herself up about the situation (one that you actually engineered, she thought ruefully), was just going to make Lucan uncomfortable when Lancelot made his excuses and went back to his duties and his higher ranking friends. Thinking up any topic of conversation seemed to be a bit beyond her though. She didn't really know what to bring up aside from the weather or things that neither of them wanted to talk about. They had both been a lot more relaxed in her little caravan where she had just been talking to Lancelot and not Commander Castus's brother, and where they had both shot each other a surreptitious smile when Lucan had not so subtly dropped the crusts of his toast onto the Samartian's plate.
Catching a glimpse of Burgess the portly weapons expert with an armful of fireworks and an expression of utter glee as he trotted towards the bonfire, she felt a little better. Burgess was nice but a lot less socially adept than she was, and since Arthur didn't mind him shacking up with the admittedly cute Han whose appearance was as pin neat as Burgess's was untidy, she probably didn't need to worry too much about people talking. God knew what would happen if the two of them had a lovers tiff though she thought with a shudder; presumably Guinevere would have to be sent in to talk both blokes down before they blew the whole place up.
Lucan for his part seemed oblivious to his guardian's unease and had promptly abandoned her as soon as he had caught sight of his friends. From time to time he was silhouetted against the bonfire, playing some sort of game with the kids, which apparently meant mock swordfighting with the sticks used to melt the marshmallows they were gobbling like there was no tomorrow.
Jenny didn't really blame them. In the past year the entire foundations of society had been shaken so hard that trying to recreate any sort of normalcy was a bit like trying to complete a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing. So, alright, the kids probably shouldn't be waving sticks like that, and Lucan definitely shouldn't have tossed a marshmallow at the poor bloke in charge of stopping the kids from getting too close to the fire, but since no-one really seemed in danger of getting hurt that would be a lecture for later. Carpe Diem, she thought. Or whatever seize the night was in Latin. Carpe Nocturne? It sounded sort of right, but also like one of the goth bands she had listened to in college. Whatever, it was good advice, and advice that she should take, Jenny told herself firmly. Just go for it and say something clever and flirtatious.
She glanced at Lancelot and immediately her mouth went dry. He looked troubled, dark eyes narrowed against the light of the fire, his jaw tense. For a moment Jenny cast her eyes around to check for anything that would had caused such a reaction, but nothing really stood out. A Catherine Wheel spat sparks onto the patch of grass that had been fenced off from the refugees. Nearby Han, the resident explosives expert plugged a couple of what looked like home made rockets into the ground. The bass of the music thundered through the chilly air and most people looked far happier than at any gathering she had seen in the past year. Whatever it was that Lancelot was thinking about was an unwelcome memory from the past.
"Hey." Reaching out a couple of inches she brushed her knuckles against his. "No point in worrying about things you can't change."
Lancelot blinked and huffed out a breath that dissipated like dragon's smoke in the chilly air. His eyes were warm though, and when Jenny made to tuck her hand back into her sleeve, he caught her fingers in his.
"Jesus!" He quickly shoved both their hands in his pocket. The wax jacket he wore wasn't very roomy, and so Jenny almost fell into him, only Lancelot's other hand grabbing her and placing her next to her preventing her from falling over. "Your hands are fucking freezing." Taking her other hand he buried it in the folds of his coat. "Haven't you ever heard of gloves?"
Jenny thought about wriggling out of his grasp. She had no doubt that he'd let her go if she wanted him to, but to be honest her hands had been cold, and pressed up against Lancelot suddenly it wasn't just the bonfire sending a flash of heat through her. Against her palm the muscles of his stomach bunched when she shifted her weight, and glancing upwards she caught the ripple of the muscles of his jaw work as he swallowed. Well then... Looks like the tables had turned. She tried very hard to suppress a smile. If she was going to stand outside in the cold next to the ridiculously good looking man who she had tried not to watch since she had found the camp, well, why not make the most of it?
"I've got lots of gloves," she said innocently. "In Cardiff." Wriggling her fingers slightly deeper into his pocket and brushing his hipbone , she pretended to snuggle against him for warmth and not to notice the noise he made deep in his throat. "It's a bit far to go though. And from what I hear Saxon burnt most of Wales so I suppose I'll have to just keep an eye out for hand warmers."
"Hand warmers..." One of his dark curls brushed her forehead and his breath was hot against her cheek as she pressed closer. His mouth was so close as his free hand traced her neck and cupped her chin.
"Get Back!" The voice, shrill through the loudspeaker startled everyone, and served as effectively as a bucket of cold water thrown over Jenny's head. Jumping back, she realised too late that one of her hands was still in Lancelot's pocket and had to scrabble to get it free, in the process kicking his still wounded leg.
"Shit, shit, shit. I'm really sorry." This time she was the one holding him up. The Samartian gave her a cross between a grimace and a smile before gingerly putting his foot back down on the grass and regaining his balance.
"What's happening?" Around them refugees, Merlin's hippies and the soldiers were hurrying past them up the hill. A familiar face barrelled out of the crowd and a panting Gawain, one hand holding onto his girlfriend Alice, another a bawling child of about six years old, slid to a halt infront of them and took a moment to take a breath.
"Get moving Lance," the blond said worriedly. "A couple of dipshit teenagers got into the weapons bunker and thought it would be a good idea to muck around. Half of it's on fire it's only a matter of minutes before everything goes sky high."
Jenny's heart started racing. Around them people were fleeing like rats deserting a sinking ship, stragglers either picked up or helped as the crowd surged away from the main base. She let go of a breath that she hadn't known that she had been holding when she saw Lucan jogging beside Dagonet, the big man carrying several young children on his shoulders and her young ward leading half a dozen others towards the barracks.
Ok. That was good. That was very, very good. But if the weapons bunker went up in flames then that would not only destroy all the weapons they had for defence and hunting, but when the serious artillery went boom it would take out the generators, the water purification and half a years worth of canned goods stored down there for the winter.
Grabbing Gawain's arm before he could follow Alice, Jenny tried to keep calm.
"Where did the fire start? The back?" The last question was more thinking out loud than a genuine enquiry – Han kept the explosives locked up in a steel box by the front stairwell next to the artillery shells that were likewise only accessible by the few people trusted with a key. Fire, however didn't bother with such societal niceties as locks or keys, and the boxes while mostly people proof probably weren't fire-proof. If the fire had reached them then then no-one would have the luxury of worrying about it.
"Yeah. Burgess and Han were knocked out by the blast. We've got to go." Gawain seemed to be too distracted by keeping watch on the crowds that surged around them, and Jenny had to yank hard on his sleeve to get his attention.
"Who's in there, where's the fire?" she said urgently.
Gawain shrugged helplessly, obviously wanting to go and retrieve some of the stragglers at the base of the hill. "Two of the kids are dead. The rest of them got out, but it's too dangerous to get near the bunker. The whole thing is going to go up at any moment."
Jenny barely heard the last of his words, bolting down the hill and dodging the last of the people evacuating the meadow, she tried to remember everything that she had learned from the architects sketches rescued from the late General Germanius's safe. She and a small group of men and women had managed to get the electricity cables to circumvent the bunker and get the generators going again after Saxon's attack, but some of the fail-safes in the bunker were still in place.
If they hadn't shorted out.
If the whole place didn't go up in a messy display of nitro glycerine, gunpowder and bits of amateur electrician.
The running was surprisingly easy as she raced down the hill – Jenny wasn't sure that she could have stopped if she had wanted to. There were people yelling at her, she dimly recognised Lancelot calling her name, but sheer momentum made her take the steps down into the bunker three at a time and it was only by sheer luck that she managed to throw her arm up and cushion her head preventing a concussion as she hit the wall.
Okay, okay, okay.. The heat from the fire tightened her skin and made her eyes water, but dropping to her knees, at least the smoke was a little easier to deal with. Fire licked at the far end of the big room that housed the weaponry, but although it swept hungrily towards the door it hadn't yet reached the ammunition stores. Crawling forwards, she blinked watering eyes and found the keypad hidden under an already warping plastic cover. Tucking her fingers under the sleeve of her coat she had a moment of panic before she remembered the numbers and punched them in. 1066. The battle of Hastings. Some in-joke of Burgess's that she wasn't privy to but thank god remembered. The heat was so intense that it was starting to make her dizzy. Or was that the smoke? The fireguards were supposed to come down now, she thought. Getting up seemed to be too much of an effort, so she tried to keep her head up and looked back at the staircase that was getting blurrier by the moment. But what if the codes had changed or the wires were fried? Nothing was happening... Struggling to her knees, Jenny was knocked flat by the slam of a reinforced metal shield bisecting the bunker, cutting off the fire and almost taking her foot off in the process. As the emergency lights flickered on the last thing she remembered was being picked up and someone who sounded a lot like Lancelot telling her she was a fucking idiot before everything went black.
"Jenny?" Lucan's voice seemed very far away, but when Jenny managed to open smoke sore eyes the boy was peering at her only a foot away. She gave him as decent a smile as she could, relieved that whatever had happened at least they were still alive. A gentle hand lifted her head and brought a straw to her lips. She wasn't sure what was better, the sweet slide of cool water down her parched throat or Lancelot's smile as he watched her swallow it down.
" Enough?"
Jenny nodded and wiped her mouth with a hand that seemed almost too heavy to lift. Her head ached a little and her throat was sore, but testing her limbs tentatively it didn't seem like she was hurt, and since she recognised the medical wing which was still typically quiet, apparently the fort was still in one piece.
"Alright love?" Sasha, one of the nurses bustled over, all blonde hair, bosom and kind blue eyes. "How are you feeling?"
"Alright I think." Looking at Lucan and Lancelot sitting next to her bed managing to look both sympathetic to the nurse and murderous towards her, Jenny gave a weak smile. Nice as it would be to play the invalid card, she would rather be back in her own bed all things considered, and since she had probably saved quite a lot of people, Lucan could bloody well stop sulking, and Lancelot didn't have the right to be there anyway.
Lancelot had stubble on his chin, she noticed. He looked a bit like a pirate on the cover of one of those trashy novels her mum pretended to have collected for the charity shop. She opened her mouth to tell him that, but some dormant flicker of self preservation kicked in and she attempted to fumble through the wooly mess that her brain had turned into in search of something more intelligent to say.
"Did the fire..."
Alright, not that intelligent, but Sasha didn't seem too perturbed.
"Don't worry about that, love. Everyone's fine – you're a proper hero; such a brave thing that you did, even Commander Castus and Guinevere have been in to ask after you."
"Oh." Jenny didn't have the energy to think up a reply to that, although she reasoned, if you had to meet what was essentially royalty doing it while unconscious was probably the most painless and certainly less embarrassing way of doing so.
"Anyway," Sasha fished a tiny torch out of her pocket and shone it into a blinking Jenny's eyes, before passing her a huge duffel coat. "Sorry, but yours was only fit for the bonfire and this was going spare, your boyfriend probably has something a bit more suitable for you back home." She gave the young red head a knowing wink before bustling away to attend a young pregnant woman.
"Boyfriend?" Jenny said in bewilderment, kicking her legs over the side of the bed and getting shakily to her feet. "I.."
"I might have lied a bit," Lancelot murmured in her ear as he slid her arms into the coat and shrugged it over her shoulders. "It was that or you'd have to stay here overnight to be kept under observation."
Seeing her dark eyes widen, he stepped back. "It's up to you. I thought I'd take the sofa bed and you and Lucan could share the bed. You can't be alone if you've got a concussion and I thought that you would be more comfortable in your own place."
Jenny checked under the bed and found her battered trainers tucked underneath. Slipping them on, she debated her options.
She could stay in the hospital ward taking up a bed when she didn't really need it and endure the well meaning but intrusive attentions of the nurses.
Or she could go home to her own bed where she could keep an eye on Lucan and the only downside would be a sexy brunet crashing on her sofa. Not much of a choice really.
"Lucan, have you got the.."
Jenny wasn't particularly surprised when he pulled the keys to the caravan out of his pocket.
"Looks like we're going home."
A/N: This was supposed to be a three part story but now it's going to be four – sorry for the huge delay, no excuse but total writers block on everything. The next chapter is mostly written so it'll be up soon.
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