Destiny
I have a confession to make: the following three chapters you will be reading originated (again) from my tendency to overwrite myself. These chapters were originally written as one long one that ended up as 12,000 words and counting, but that was divided into three chapters for readability, since I doubt anyone (though you might Trev ;)) would be willing to read a chapter of that length. Also, I feel I must apologise yet again Trev for my agonising slowness in writing this story, especially when tis written for you! :D You'd think I'd focus more on it, but alas I haven't, for which I am so sorry.
By the way, any and all reviewers, I would like you to all please remember to say "Happy birthday" to Trev when you review; after all, tis his story, tis one way of letting him know as well that you care about him too! :) I should have remembered to say that last year in 2010 when I first began it and posted it here, but sadly I forgot. :/ Also, unlike the preceding chapters, this one contains no musical accompaniment, although the succeeding ones will have some pieces, just as a heads-up.
To Trev: I so hope you're doing better now! I've been praying so hard and long for you since this began, and I must say (if you don't mind me being so bold) that your situation has affected me greatly as well, something which is rather odd considering that we haven't even met yet! Though I must say, I feel strongly as I know you for who you are :) and that is the sincere truth. I wrote these/this chapter (s) with you strongly in mind, and I really hope you love them, especially considering since I threw in a rather prominent reference to a book quadtrilogy you adore. :D (and I do as well.)
Here is the first chapter of an early birthday gift for you, and I hope you love these chapters! :) :D
Happy early birthday Trev! I hope you have an amazing one this year! :D
God bless,
your friend,
Tawny
x
I doubly do not own. The Ice Age characters belong to Blue Sky Studios; and Sam, Terry, Frank and Claire and the other OCs of Lost in Time belong to Trev.
...
Sam watched as Manny covered up the sloth gently, swaying marginally as he attempted to try and hide the effects that his consumption of the wine had had on him, a small half-smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she remembered her father tucking her into bed at night. She stood up, holding the Book of Common Prayer tightly in her hands. Shifting the prayer book over to her right hand, she let her left hand slip downwards, reaching inside her left pocket, she felt around for as if searching for a book, but her hand collided with emptiness. Sam exhaled a deep sigh, knowing what she had been looking for: the Bible that she always, always carried with her.
I must have lost it during those first tumultuous days here, she realised with a pang as she saw her husband rise to his feet, his footsteps uneven and halting as he made for the door. Sam crossed her arms as she stared after him pointedly, acknowledging that he wasn't able to see her glare. A few moments later, Claire followed, her hand in Ben's as she helped the tired boy to their room. Last of all, Frank left his position next to Diego, his eyes haggard and red-rimmed – Sam wasn't able to tell if it was a combination of hearing the painful days of the Troubles retold or the effects of the alcohol on him – as he turned his gaze upon her. The despair and sorrow lingering there struck her cold, and she reached out a hand towards her brother as if to steady him, but he pushed by her, nearly slamming into a wall as he headed out of the main meeting room.
They have all had too much to drink tonight. Sam narrowed her eyes,
Looks like -
"We'll be staying up, Sammy?" a voice interrupted her thoughts. "And acting as chaperone to all our utterly wasted friends to make sure they don't hurt themselves?"
It was Hudson, and as he asked his question he nodded in Manny and Ellie's direction, and Sam took in at one glance that they were both totally inebriated. Ellie kept giving little hiccups as she rocked Peaches to sleep, whilst Manny appeared to not know where his location was as he looked around the room blearily. Sam was amazed that the mammoth had even been able to last through her story.
"Aye," Sam replied laconically to the large wolf, patting the ruff on the back of his head affectionately. Trying to make light of the situation, she continued, winking at Hudson,
"And, who knows, we might even get a show of sorts tonight."
"Now, now, Sammy," Hudson rumbled, an admonishing tone in his voice, but Sam merely found herself chuckling in response,
"Oh, come on, Hudson, how bad could it be?"
x-x-x-x-x-x
Sid came awake nearly two hours later. Pushing away the blanket Manny had covered him with; he rubbed his eyes, blinking against the harsh incandescent lights that illuminated the base. Stumbling to his feet, he yawned, and then he avidly trundled over to the table where the herd had celebrated their reunion only a brief time earlier, looking around eagerly for the bottles of alcohol. He glanced around, noting that both Sam and Hudson had slumped on the couch, fast asleep, and then grinned wickedly as he began pouring wine into glass cups, lining them up neatly on the table. He glanced around surreptitiously; waiting to be sure that silence had wrapped the base in its grip before hastily placing his claws around a goblet, tipping it into his mouth. The sweet tang of the wine made him giddy, and he eagerly downed one drink, preparing himself another before the first was hardly drunk.
…
Buck heard the clinking of glasses from where he slept beside Diego and Mark. Standing unsteadily to his feet, he noticed the calm expression on the two tiger's faces as he covered his eye against the light. He shook his head slowly, trying to get used to how blurred his surroundings where. Glancing around the room, he noticed that Sam was awake, rubbing her eyes wearily while Hudson shook himself marginally, and he wondered what they were doing up so late. Another quick circuit of the room showed that all of his friends were asleep – bar one. Buck raised his head, seeing a dim shadow at the far end of the room by the table, preparing drinks.
Another drink sounds good to me, Buck's mind whispered to him,
Let's go see wat's up, eh?
"Yes, yes," Buck agreed, "And see if t'ey'll give us a drink as well – anot'er one could 'it my sweet spot at the moment."
He placed his knife down carefully beside the sleeping tigers, and then tiptoed off, anxious not to wake anyone, although he was fully aware of the fact that Sam and Hudson were up and watching him with interest. He noticed them exchange a series of pointed glances, but he shrugged and scuttled over to the table. As he approached, the shadow gradually became distinct as he hurried over, revealing itself to be the form of Sid, avidly guzzling down goblets of wine.
Wine, Buck's mind murmured. I'm ever so 'ungry for more of that good stuff!
"Me too," Buck replied, leaping onto the table. Sid looked up at him, his eyes red-rimmed and his face sloppy.
"What are you doing, Buck?" He slurred. "These are my drinks. Go get your own," he frowned as he tried to gather up the glasses near him, his claws slipping against the table as he tried to hold himself up.
"Oi! Well, that was just splendid of you, Sid ol' pal, making drinks and not 'aving plans to share," Buck retorted as he uncorked the bottle of wine, easily shifting it on his arm so that it teemed into a wine glass. Grinning into Sid's furious visage confidently, Buck drank his glass in one gulp. He glanced over at Sid nonchalantly before pouring himself another, but midway through he felt claws encircle his neck. Gasping for breath, he turned to Sid, suddenly realising that despite his small size, the sloth was actually quite formidable.
"These. Are. My. Drinks," Sid hissed at Buck, tightening his grip around the weasel's neck. Buck gulped, struggling to free himself.
Ask Sid if he wants to fist-fight for ownership of the drinks! His mind called out.
If you 'aven't noticed, I'm kind of in the middle of something right now, Buck snarked as he pressed his hands up against Sid's claws, finally extricating himself. He slid to the table, gasping out,
"If it's a fight you want, Sid ol pal, you can 'ave one, because I wants some more drinks!"
Sid glowered at Buck, slamming a glass down onto the table. Buck smirked at him,
"So, what kind of a fight do ya want, ol pal?"
"I challenge you to a drinking game," Sid retorted, holding out the wine glass to Buck, "Winner takes all."
"Ah…" Buck contemplated as he glanced back over towards the petite woman reclining on the couch and the wolf standing next to her protectively. Seeing that they weren't looking to interfere, Buck drew his claws along the tip of a wine glass thoughtfully,
"So, basically, mate, yous and me will drink the wine 'ere, and whoever 'olds out the longest wins the entire loot?"
Let's do it! His mind shouted at him.
"Oh shut it you pesky thing," Buck growled. "I can make me own decisions!"
Turning to Sid, he said,
"Well, 'ow does that sound, ol mate?"
"Deal," Sid shot back laconically as he poured more wine into the cups, and then set the bottle in the centre of table, staring Buck in the eye. Buck returned Sid's gaze with pointed emphasis as he slowly reached for one of the glasses arranged neatly in the middle of the table by the sloth for later drinking.
"Then let's do it," Buck said, picking up a glass as Sid took one in his claws. "Let's get …Buck Wild."
Sid took a slip of his cup as he watched Buck guzzle down his draught of wine, declaring,
"I'm gonna win."
"Oh really?" Buck responded, slurring the words marginally as he took another drink from a glass near him.
"Is that what you're telling me, Siddy boy? Well, let me tell you, it's on."
Abandoning their battle of words, the sloth and the weasel took their positions, eying the plethora of wine-filled cups on the table. As if struck by a hidden signal, Buck began guzzling down the alcohol, daintily holding two cups on each paw, which he tossed into his mouth avidly, the pungent red of the wine staining his mouth as he watched Sid mimicking his actions, but much more slowly, taking his time and with no hurry.
Probably because 'e's a sloth, Buck's mind encouraged him.
"Too true, too true," Buck whispered, grabbing one more cup and bringing it to his mouth. Glancing around, he determined that he had already consumed at least five glasses, whereas Sid had made it to only three. Confidence in his abilities made Buck lightheaded as he scooped up two more cups as Sid began on his fourth, juggling them on his shoulders in a magnificent display of half-drunk consummate skill as he tipped the cups into his mouth, their taste making him dizzy and joyful.
He sent Sid a lopsided grin, hoping to impress the sloth with how well he was holding up in the contest, but Sid ignored him, continuing to drain his glasses steadily. Disappointed by Sid's response, Buck glanced around, his sharp eyes surmising with one look at the rest of the sleeping creatures that no one – yet – knew of his and Sid's shenanigans.
So we might as well be as reckless as we can! Buck heard his mind whispering to him. If we do, we're sure to win then!
"All right then," Buck muttered. He reached out with unsteady paws toward the decanter of wine before him, teeming it out into a tankard that would have doubtlessly have been better suited for mead, but Buck, knowing nothing of human history and caring even less, guzzled the wine avidly, peering at Sid with his one eye. The sloth merely stared back at him, continuing his process of taking small, unhurried sips. Buck noticed, to his dismay, that Sid's eyes were twinkling with amusement at him as the sloth perched on a chair.
"So 'e thinks 'e's confident of winning, now is 'e," Buck queried of himself with droll emphasis. He snapped his head forward, gathering up a handful of glasses. He winced as the glasses struck together, the loud clinking sending the gong of a headache into his brain. Sid smirked whilst Buck groaned, battling the first effects of the hangover.
"You can't beat me… I won't let ya!" Buck protested feebly as he slumped onto the table, his one eye bloodshot. He grabbed at a glass, pouring the contents into his gaping throat voraciously, his upper body swaying in a lurching, unkempt manner as he strove to remain upright. He glanced at Sid out of his half-lidded eye, noting that the sloth appeared to be experiencing no side effects or problems at all, and his expression pinched out of shape from sheer annoyance.
"Can you keep this up, Buck?" Sid asked, pouring himself another small glass and downing it easily. "You know, you really don't look that great."
"I'm . fine." Buck insisted, narrowing his eye with a determined expression on his face as he changed his selection of wine to another made in a region that was completely foreign to him: France. He rubbed at his eye blearily, trying to determine the meaning of the squiggles painted on the wine bottle.
"P..i..n..o..t ... n... o ... i ... r," Buck murmured, sounding out the squiggles as best he could. He turned to look at Sid,
"'Ey Sid, do ya 'ave any idee as to what these … thingies are?" He said, indicating the lines on the wine bottle.
Sid gave a shrug,
"I dunno. Ol Manny and the others were asking Sam about them I think a bit earlier – but I didn't hear what they were, I was busy talking with you. How do you expect me to know what they are? They're probably something," he paused momentarily to yawn, "totally useless and that is no good for us."
"You don't say," Buck muttered skeptically.
"I say that I'm winning, and you are not."
Buck frowned at Sid's outrageous statement. Gulping down some of the "Pinot Noir" he sent a glare at the sloth,
"No, you're not." He shot back.
"Yes, I am," Sid insisted, this time taking a controlled gulp from his glass. "You're on your last legs for this contest," he slurred.
"I am not," Buck tried to protest, but even as the words left his mouth a wave of nausea hit him. He leaned forward over the lip of the table, struggling not to retch. Forcing the sick back up into his throat, Buck allowed himself to slide off the table, collapsing on the floor. He raised his paws, grasping in vain for something to hold but his fingers only brushed air.
"I think I'm gonna go lay down," Buck muttered, swiveling around with hasty, unsteady movements. Lifting himself painfully to his feet he lurched forward, noticing that his vision was dim as he clambered to all four paws groggily. His head bumped up against something soft, emitting a low grunt of surprise. Buck's eye roved over the light yellow form, and he slowly comprehended that he was next to Diego. The sleeping tiger was undisturbed by his presence, Buck noted with relief, as he settled down alongside the sabre to work off the hangover with a good, long rest. He gratefully closed his eyes, hiccupping slightly from the effects of the overdose of alcohol, but before sleep claimed him completely, he felt a large paw draw him nearer, and smiled.
...
Crash heard the clinking of glasses from where he was hanging from Ellie's uplifted tusks, as his sister had graciously furnished a resting place for her brothers by sleeping with her tusks erect, whilst Manny rested beside her with his tusks encircling Peaches. Crash shook his head blearily, aware that both his sister and her mate kept emitting little hiccups in their sleep. Manny stirred uneasily next to Ellie, and then Crash had to hurry to scamper out of the way as Manny raised himself to his feet – still asleep – and then began to stroll around the room, his footsteps unsteady, swaying with each ponderous step as he moved in the direction of the chiller room area. Crash rubbed his eyes, trying to get used to how blurred his surroundings where, and he noticed with one glance around the room that Sam was awake, rubbing the sleep from her eyes wearily as Hudson shook himself marginally as Manny passed by them, causing Hudson's mouth to drop open briefly in astonishment before Crash saw the wolf dart after his brother-in-law, trailing after him. He watched as Hudson turned back to Sam momentarily, sending her a wink as she pivoted in Crash's direction. He glanced around for Buck, wondering where the mad weasel that he still regarded as one of his heroes was, and noticed him slumbering, occasionally expelling slight hiccups underneath Diego's paw.
How sweet, Crash thought to himself, and then shook his head. He frowned, shaking his head. I must be stupid! The yummy, heady… um… what was it called? Oh right, juice! Frank gave us must be doing stuff to my brain if I was to think that is "sweet" ugh! He paused, unsure of what to do now, feeling a dryness in his throat. But… uh, I wouldn't mind having some more of … that … juice.
A dreamy smile crested his lips as his stomach rumbled, making him realise anew how thirsty he was, and he skittered across the hard pavement of the base to the table where Sid was still preparing drinks. Leaping onto the table, Crash hurried over to the wine glasses, slipping in between them to get to the wine bottle. Grasping it in his paws, he stumbled, watching the liquid teem gracefully into a cup. He reached out to grab it and lift to his mouth, but Sid's claw gripped it,
"What are you doing, Crash?" he slurred. "These are my drinks." He frowned as he tried to gather up the glasses filled with wine near him, his claws slipping against the table as he tried to hold himself up,
"Get your own."
"That's just what I'm doing," Crash responded, a cocky expression in his eyes as attempted to pull the glass away from Sid's grip. Finally winning the tug-of-war, he downed it in rapid succession, grinning confidently at the sloth. He glanced over at Sid nonchalantly before pouring himself another, but midway through he felt claws encircle his neck. Gasping for breath, he turned his head towards Sid, realising that despite his stunted form and apparent stupidity that he showed at times, the sloth was actually quite formidable. Crash's eyes widened with fear as Sid's grip tightened on him, dimly hearing Sid mutter,
"These. Are. My. Drinks," as Crash gulped, struggling to free himself. Pressing his hands up against Sid's claws, he slithered out of the sloth's grasp on him, the light of fire in his eyes.
Well, I want some drinks too.
Lifting up his fists defiantly, Crash sauntered over to one of the glasses next to him,
"So, it's a fight you want, eh, Sid? Well, that's okay with me, because I want some drinks myself, you ol' glutton!"
Sid glowered at Crash, his eyes turning red from either overconsumption of alcohol or anger, and then punched Crash, sending him flying across the table, although fortuitously the possum's slight size enabled him glasses of wine without breaking them. Nearby, he noticed Sam glance over at them, covering her mouth with her hand. Crash jumped to his feet, his fists curled up. Wiping away saliva from his mouth, he called out,
"Banzai!" as he launched himself at Sid, knocking him off balance.
Sid responded to Crash's assault by winding up his arm, giving Crash an uppercut but the possum ducked out of sight just in time. Sid's claw rammed into empty air, and he growled, narrowing his eyes as he faltered unsteadily forward, allowing time for Crash to kick him, causing Sid to grit his teeth in pain as he scrambled after him. Crash caught his breath, straightening himself so that he stood upright, ready to face Sid as the sloth came at him, fists flaying.
The possum shook his head slowly, feeling dizzy, but he held up his paws, ramming them into Sid as the sloth counteracted with a punch that upset Crash entirely. Crash fell to the floor, the breath knocked out of him.
x-x-x-x-x
Hudson trotted along after Manny, his claws tapping the paved floor of the base loudly. Manny continued to stumble forward, heading for the confines of the chiller room as Hudson hurried to keep up with him, but the report of a gun echoing from one of the meeting rooms stopped him short. He glanced behind him, seeing Sam's curious face peer at him,
"Hudson, what is it?" she asked with a light sigh. "I just had to separate Sid and Crash from fighting over the wine, now what?"
Hudson waited in the corridor as Sam crossed over to him, the expression in her eyes weary. He averted his gaze from her,
I wish you were my Sam – the one that I knew all those years ago, he mused.
"Just keep a stiff upper lip, that's what we need to do, Sammy," he finally uttered in response, brusqueness underpinning his tone. "Now let's go look into things and hope everything hasn't gotten too chaotic."
Sam chuckled,
"With people like my Terry and my brother and the world that we're in now, I should think that would be expected."
Damn you and your relentless optimism! Hudson muttered to himself with a pang of regret. This was at least the Sammy he knew – from before, from an era where a situation like this was rendered impossible.
"We should probably see what that report entails, actually," Hudson countered, moving at a brisk pace. Sam jogged alongside him,
"But what about Manny?" She queried, casting her eyes down the passage. Hudson followed her gaze briefly, ascertained with a glance that the problem with Manny wasn't urgent, and turned back to business,
"He'll be fine – for the moment." Hudson replied. "Now let's go ferret out the matter of that gun report."
He trotted onward, pausing at the door that led into the room that the rest of the humans had decided to stay in for the night. Sam pushed the door ajar, and Hudson saw her eyes widen as they both peered in.
"You've got to be kidding me," Sam muttered. Hudson peered in, noticing that Claire and Ben were huddled up against each other, their bodies tight with anxiety.
What in God's name is going on here?.! Hudson exclaimed, stepping into the room to find the source. He gawped in astonishment as he noticed that Frank and Terry were lurching unsteadily in the middle of room, their pistols grasped loosely in their hands.
"What is the meaning of this?" He demanded, sending a glare fraught with death at an inebriated Terry. He could surmise what had occurred, after Sam had finished her story, the men had gone back to the alcohol without a second thought.
Terry let out a drunken chuckle,
"Oh, hey, Wolfie," He slurred. "Me and Frank here," he indicated Frank with a noncommittal incline of his head, "the two of us have decided to hold a shooting match."
"Using each other as targets," Frank explained, his finger slipping downward on the pistol. Hudson heard it cock before Frank sloppily aimed in it Terry's general direction. It also did not escape his notice that whilst in a drunken stupor and potentially able to kill each other, Frank and Terry were being somewhat amiable with one another.
Now THAT is unusual, Hudson mused. Beside him Sam commented,
"Ah, the influence of alcohol. Always worked like a charm with those two – made them decent to each other." She paused, winking at Hudson. "Unfortunately for either of them, I don't keep my wine cellar well-stocked." She paused, and then added significantly, "and neither does Claire."
A bullet ricocheted along the ground, right next to Hudson's paws. Hudson's eyes grew steely,
"Sammy," he muttered, striding forward. He nodded at her impatiently. "I think it's time we get to business."
"Aye," Sam agreed, drawing even with Hudson. The wolf saw her eyes narrow as she glanced over at Claire, whose eyes were still pools of fright as she clutched her son close to her. Sam turned back her brother and Terry, crossing her arms. Hudson waited beside her tensely. He saw her give a little drop of her head, and throwing his head back in response, he let out a piercing yowl. Terry covered his ears,
"Oh God, make it stop!" he yelled, his pistol slapping against the floor. Frank let out a chuckle,
"Guess I win this match, now don't I Terry?"
"You shut your mouth," Terry snapped, his eyes flashing.
"STOP IT!" Sam's voice boomed. She stepped forward, and to Hudson's extreme amusement (and Frank's, he noticed) Terry quailed under her stern gaze. Placing her small hands squarely on her hips, he watched as her gaze flickered from her husband to her brother,
"Terence Edmund Daniels, Frank David Howard, your actions have disappointed me greatly. It would be in all propriety for both of you to sit down and wear off the effects of the alcohol." Hudson saw the men exchange bemused glances. Terry shrugged his massive shoulders grudgingly before gingerly sinking down onto the hard concrete floor. Frank remained stubborn,
"No, Sam, I've had enough of your hypocritical irrational belief…" he paused, grasping for a word. Finding it, he continued, "Stuff… tonight."
A firm, yet gracious smile slipped onto Sam's face. She indicated the floor with a brief gesture. The wolf watched her, a proud smile lingering momentarily on his face. This is the Sammy I knew.
As Frank slowly moved to sit down, Hudson glanced back through the doorway, his ears pinpointing thuds coming closer.
Well, that's just brilliant. Now the herd is awake – and alcohol sodden too. That is just fantastic!
Ellie peered into the room, Peaches held in the crook of her trunk. Behind her Hudson noticed the curious faces of Diego, Mark, and Buck. Eddie rode on Diego's shoulders. He glanced upward at Ellie's back, finding a wine-drenched sloth and the rowdy one of the female mammoth's two possum brothers reclining on her, blearily-eyed. Hudson's sharp eyes detected bruises on Sid's face, and Crash looked worse for wear as well. A black eye was beginning to swell on the left side of his face.
Sam pivoted around, facing Hudson. Seeing the others she took charge of the situation,
"Hudson," she declared. "I want you to go find Manny (who is probably in the chiller room by now, poor dear) and bring him here."
"What do you have in mind?" Hudson questioned, his heart sinking. He hated that he doubted the woman that he knew was his Secretary-General. He knitted his brows in confusion.
"I think we all need to wind down a little – with one of mankind's oldest soporifics -," She explained as the rest of the herd started to lie down again, ranging themselves in a circle near the humans. "It's time for another story," she winked at Hudson, "And this time, Terry will do most of the telling! Although I will break in for relevant parts. Now go, James."
Having Sam use his first name was an honour; and Hudson recognised with a pang that Sammy was gradually slipping into the confident leader he knew. He inclined his head respectfully,
"Aye, Captain!" he exclaimed, before spinning on his heel.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
End of Chapter Four
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