"The course of true love never did run smooth."
-William Shakespeare
"The major difference between a thing that might go wrong and a thing that cannot possibly go wrong is that when a thing that cannot possibly go wrong goes wrong it usually turns out to be impossible to get at or repair."-Douglas Adams
Disclaimer: If you recognize it from the books, tis not mine!
Dillon
Boom.
It's thundering. God. Head. Hurts.
Boom.
Wait a minute. It doesn't thunder here. I'm in the Coliseum. I hope.
BOOM.
Oh, someone's knocking on my door.
"Go. Away." I moan and roll over, even that smallest action sending an unpleasant ringing sensation through my ears.
"Oh, come on Dill. Rise and shine!" My now ex-friend Matt ignores the closed door that obviously means I'm Dying. Do Not Disturb, and even has the audacity to whistle as he raises the window shades, letting the warm sunshine in.
Bright sunshine. It sends my eyes into spasms of pain, and I am forced to jam a pillow over my poor, dead head. What even happened last night? Why do I feel like I've been hit by a truck and dropkicked off a bridge?
"I don't think Lord Penbarin's ever had a mortal- actually, anyone- beat him at a chugging tequila contest before." Matt grins, taking a seat on the edge of my bed.
Oh. Right. That's why.
"Man," he's still smiling that stupid, non-hung-over-at-all smirk; I can hear it in his voice. I want to smack it right off his face. "If thoughts could kill…"
"Ha-ha," I mumble through the pillow. If I had the energy, I'd flick him off. But I don't.
"Here buddy, take these. They'll make you somewhat alive."
I sit up fast, too fast for my head. As the roar in my ears diminishes, I eye the two white tablets he's holding out in his hand with a bottle of water. "Are they magical pills?"
"Aspirin," he shrugs.
"Anything," I down the bottle of water. I can open my eyes fully now, feeling a little bit better already. "So what's happening?"
"Well…" he smiles. It's a smile that I don't really like. I start to regret asking. "Isabel's freaking out."
"Oh," I roll my eyes. "Wow. She's usually so calm. What is it this time?"
"Plates. We don't have them for tonight, apparently."
I sigh. I was stupid enough to why. Now I'm going to be asked to go get them. "Do we need them?"
"Dillon, it's a rehearsal dinner."
"Right."
"So…do you think you could maybe go into Athens and get us some?"
I knew it. "Matt, you're an immortal. Why don't you have the ability to conjure up plates?"
He rolls his eyes. "I don't know. I guess nobody ever figured that plates would be necessary in the fight against the Root of all Evil."
I can't think of a single reason to say no, so I heave one huge sigh to express my displeasure and nod. "Good man!" he smiles brightly, clapping me on the shoulder. I wince. Aspirin may be a miracle drug, but even it can only go so far.
"No need to shout."
Which is how, an hour and some clothes later, I find myself wandering around the town square. Vendors are on all sides of me, trying to sell everything from haircuts to make-your-own-love-potion kits.
"Get your remedies here! Cures everything from boils to freckles! No guarantee!"
"Candles! Scented using herbs from the Witch's garden! Better than Vanora's candles!"
"Books to trade! Make excellent fire fuel, and wipers! Trade for food!"
I sigh in frustration as the crowd jostles, anxious to get all the best bargains. Where is the plate section? Is there even a plate section? I wonder if Matt remembered that we weren't at home. I can't just run up to the nearest drugstore and buy a stack of paper plates.
Steering away from a large, beefy man selling lion cubs, I head back towards the middle of town. Maybe Isabel doesn't need matching plates. I mean, it's only a rehearsal, right?
"GET OUT OF THE WAY! MOVE!"
Behind me is a commotion of shouting and screams. I turn to see an obviously out-of-control chariot being yanked by two huge horses. The driver, a soldier, is yelling at the people who are dashing in front of it and diving out of the way. As I watch, the edge catches on a poor woman's fish stand and tears the whole thing down. One beam knocks the beefy fellow with the lions on the head. A few women scream who aren't even in the way, and I see why. There's a little girl in front of the chariot, too petrified to run. "MOVE!"
She can't. I don't even think about what's going to happen, I just start running. Instead of slowing down and seeing slow motion, which would have been helpful, everything seems to speed up, and for two agonizing seconds, I don't think that either the girl or myself is going to make it before the chariot crushes us. I feel the wind as it passes us by, missing by mere centimeters.
There isn't even a long, gaping silence. I need one, to recover my wits, but everyone else has already moved on, wailing over their crushed wares and arguing. Some are laughing at the absurdity of the hens, having gotten loose from their cages, running away from the fat owner as he chases them around the market place.
A few people clap, at me I realize, and slap me on the back before going off on their business.
"Good job, son."
"Way to go, sir. Didn't think you were going to make it there for a minute."
"Right stupid thing to do, if you ask me, but at least you saved the brat."
Obviously rogue chariots are no huge thing to these people.
"Evie! EVIE!" A woman's hysterical cries reach my ears, jolting me from my stupor. The girl in my arms begins to kick in response, crying to be free. Ungrateful brat. I let her go, and she runs straight into the arms of the upset woman.
"Jossey! Jossey! I'm sorry!"
"Honey, never ever do that to me again! I told you to stay right by me didn't I? You could have been killed!"
The woman seems familiar somehow. Especially her voice.
"The horses! They were pwetty!" the little girl is insisting. The woman doesn't seem hysterical anymore, even smiling a little at the girl's matter-of-fact logic.
"Well all the same, Eve, those pretty horses would have stepped on you if that man hadn't pushed you out of the way."
"That hurted!" The little girl, Evie, is glaring at me now, as if it were somehow my fault that she was in trouble. The woman looks up too.
"Thank you, sir, for…" the tired smile fades as she recognizes me. In the same instant, I know her: Jocelyn, the girl from the tavern.
Oh, dear.
"Um…hi…" I grin awkwardly. I mentally slap myself. Hi? Smooth, Dillon, real smooth. "How, um, are you?"
Kill me now.
"Fine." She looks just as uncomfortable as I feel, which is slightly helpful.
"You were saying?" I grin. A flush rises in her cheeks, and I see a little bit of annoyance in her eyes, but she opens her mouth to answer.
"Thank you very much for rescuing my sister. She tends to let curiosity get the better of her sometimes, and, well…"
"I have friends like that." I roll my eyes in understanding. I didn't mention that I am the problem just as often. At least she's not yelling at me. "Sister?"
"Yes, my only one. She's in my care. I don't know what I would've done if she was…taken away." The thought of her sister being dead is obviously a painful one. I have no siblings, so I can't be sure, but I'm sensing that this bond is a particularly strong one.
"Well, your parents wouldn't have been happy, that's for sure." I try to joke.
"Well, they probably wouldn't be, but they're not around anymore. They died of typhoid a year ago." This is said matter-of-factly, with no sad eyes or tears. She seems rather preoccupied with trying to make sure Evie doesn't run over to examine the snakes that are being made to dance.
Smooth, Dillon, real smooth. Why does every conversation with this girl always make me feel like a world-class idiot? "Oh…I'm sorry." I blurt.
She shrugs, hugging Evie again. Obviously this is a topic that is not open for discussion. "So what are you doing here?"
"Buying plates," I say. "For my friend's wedding rehearsal dinner. Are you here with no chaperone?"
"Um, no…" she giggles slightly. I feel my face heat up. Was this the wrong thing to say? Don't they need chaperones in this time period? Maybe that was England, a few centuries into the future. "I'm looking for work, actually."
"Don't you have a job already?"
"I was fired yesterday, coincidently," she raises her chin. "I was apparently rude to a patron that my boss liked."
"Oh…Oh…" And, that's strike three for me. I had no idea that the altercation at the bar yesterday would cause Jocelyn to lose her job. "Well, I guess I did deserve it a little…"
"A little?" her blue eyes are suddenly flashing. "You guess?"
"Well, yeah…" The air has decidedly gotten hotter. Maybe it's the sparks coming from her eyes. Still, I can't just back down on this. If I'm going to be seen as an asshole, I better be one all the way. "I mean…all I tried to do was help you. I didn't think that was such a bad thing. It was you who should have been thanking me!"
"Did I ask for your help?" she demands, tossing the mane of red curls, not even waiting on an answer. "I can take care of myself. I've been doing it for years now. Nobody gives people help for free, especially men. What would you have expected from me after 'saving' me?"
I blink. "Um, nothing."
"Ha!"
There is a tug on my breeches. It's Evie. "What's your name?" I can see the resemblance to Jocelyn. Both have the delicate facial features, and the big blue eyes. Evie's curls are blonder though, more strawberry.
I bend down so I'm more eye level with her. She's less scary than her older sister. "I'm Dillon. You're Evie. Right?"
"Right," she grins. "I'm four."
"Wow, I thought you were five." I say. She practically bursts with pride. "Are you helping your sister?"
"Yes, I am. She says that some arse-butt got her sent away."
"I'm guessing that's a direct quote," I mumble, looking up to where Jocelyn is determinedly looking away, a dull pink rising in her cheeks. "Well, it happens."
"We're finding her a better job," the four-year-old continues. "So she won't cry anymore."
"I don't cry," Jocelyn finally intercedes, scooping up the little girl in her arms.
"Yes, you do." Evie nods. "I hear you at night."
"How would you know? You're asleep. Probably dreaming." Jocelyn's cheeks are so full of color now that one could easily mistake her for a fire hydrant. If there were any around here. Which, since it's Athens a thousand years ago, there's not.
God, even my thoughts are stupid around her.
"Listen," I say loudly, partially to distract myself and partially to stop their bickering. "My friend needs some serving help at their dinner tonight and at the wedding reception. Why don't you come to help? They'll pay you well, I promise."
She looks somewhat suspicious. "No, thank you. I don't take charity."
I roll my eyes. "It's not. They really do need help, and you're good. Besides, you'll be working. It's not like anybody's throwing money at you!"
"I don't know…" she's still hesitant. Evie looks at me and shakes her head, pulling on one of Jocelyn's curls. What a wise four-year-old. "Stop it, Eve. I have no one to watch Evie while I'm gone. And…" she bites her lip. "I don't want you to give me the job because you feel sorry for me."
"Feel sorry for you? I'm sorry for myself at the moment." I assure her. "My friend dragged me out of bed from a massive hangover, and I have to pick out matching plates for another friend who's nearly impossible to please. Especially since this wedding is supposed to be perfect. Also, there's this really annoying girl that either yells at me or makes me feel stupid, and she won't help me out at all."
"Eloquently put, Master Dillon." Her smile is sunny and slightly incredulous. "I would, but what about Evie?"
"Evie can come with you." I say confidently. "Trust me, the bride and groom have a son about her age. They'll get along great, and maybe keep each other out of our hair."
"Alright, fine," she relents finally. Then she laughs.
"What?"
"You really were just trying to be nice at the tavern, weren't you? No strings attached?"
"There, yes." I nod. "But this time, I need a favor…"
Isabel is not amused when I blare "Everybody Dance Now" instead of the "Wedding March" from the speakers like I am supposed to.
I don't see why. "It's a new revolutionary theory." I insist when she yells at me. "Instead of marching up the aisle, Rochelle can moonwalk!"
"In those heels?!"
"Well, do the Worm then." I shrug. "Just something different."
"NO."
After the traditional wedding march (Arkarian is giving Rochelle away), Ethan and Rochelle stand there trying not to laugh as King Richard constantly flubs his lines. He keeps messing up the "therefores" and the "wherefores". Although Isabel was brought up Roman Catholic, this wedding really has no religious ties. No mass with the ceremony or anything. Which is good, because I'm falling asleep already.
Isabel looks really frustrated. Arkarian keeps trying to talk to her. "Not now," she brushes him away. Hm…trouble in paradise?
Finally, the actually rehearsal is somewhat over, after being only a minor disaster, and it's time for dinner.
"These platters are really something, Dillon." Rochelle holds one up. "Did you seriously get them yourself?"
"Yep," I say proudly. "Well, okay, I had a little help…but seriously, no one here lives up to Isabel's high standards."
"I know," she lowers her voice a little. "Poor thing. She's really stressing out over this. I keep telling her that I'll help, that little things really don't matter, but…"
"She'll manage it," Ethan assures his fiancée, rubbing her shoulders. "Who helped you, Dill?"
"Oh, this girl…" I shrug casually. "No big deal."
"Yes big deal!" Neriah watches my face. I have a nasty feeling that she's picked up some of my thoughts too. "You met a girl!"
"Why is it such a shock to everyone whenever I do that?" I say irritably.
"Dillon!" Evie comes running up, chased by Gabe. "Hi!"
"Hey Evie, Gabe…" I let them climb into my lap. "Are you guys being good?"
"Yes," they both say angelically. I don't trust either one of them. Evie starts to show me something she nicked from the kitchens, a gold apple, and I listen, trying to ignore Neriah and Rochelle's exchanged looks that say "Who is she? Aw, isn't Dillon acting cute?"
Evie's presence means that Jocelyn showed up, too. I was kind of torn as to whether or not she actually would. I see her when the next course is being served, however. She offers the chicken to everyone, smiling brightly. When she gets to me, her smile falters a little. "Oh, dear…is she bothering you? Evie get off of him."
"No, she's fine," I smile. Evie gets off anyway, yelling to Gabe about finding a secret tunnel. There are probably quite a few in here. "I hope they don't get lost."
"It might do Evie some good," she snorts. "She needs to be scared once and awhile. She's scared of nothing right now." There's pride in her voice, though. "This is a huge place. Strange I've never noticed it before."
Dartemus agreed to make the entrance of the Coliseum available to the Athenians hired to help. To them it's a mansion, but a little bigger than it looks. Nobody seems to notice. It's amazing what the human brain will block out when it's not logical. "Oh, not that strange," I say lightly.
"Well, I've got to go serve the others." She blushes slightly and motions to the neglected side of the table. Matt is staring with his mouth wide open. He remembers her from last night obviously. I nod, but before she goes, she turns. "Thank you, again, Dillon, for this. I mean, Master Dillon. It really helps."
"No problem." I say, waving her off. "What?" I don't like the way Rochelle and Neriah are smiling at me. Ethan has the same stunned look as Matt does. "You can close your mouth now, Ethan. You'll let flies in."
"Is that…the girl from last night?"
"Jocelyn? Yes, it is." I take a big drink of wine. But the subject isn't as closed as I hoped.
"The same one that was screaming at you? And stepped on your foot?"
"Yes," I wince at the memory. Neriah is giggling now. "As it turns out, the boss fired her for that. She needed a job. I met her in the marketplace this morning."
"You got her fired, and she still talked to you? God, she almost killed you for helping her!"
"Well, there's a bit more to that. I saved Evie from this rogue chariot-"
"Is that her daughter?" Rochelle asked, looking curiously in the direction the little girl had gone.
"No, her little sister. Her parents died last year, and I get the sense that that little girl is the only thing she's got left."
"How horrible," I can practically see Neriah's heart going out to her. "It was a good thing you did then, Dillon."
Ethan seems to have gotten over his shock and is laughing now. At me. Rochelle is grinning too.
"Oh, Dillon…"
"What?"
"You like her."
"No, I don't." I say firmly, taking another sip of wine. "She's mean, remember?"
"Then why is your elbow in the butter dish?"
Oops.
"I like her taste in pottery." Neriah examines a platter.
"Dillon likes a lot more than that…" Ethan teases.
Luckily, there is a distraction from me right at that moment. Isabel stands up furiously from where she's been talking to Arkarian. "What do you want from me?" she demands. "I'm doing all I can! Maybe this isn't even about you at all!"
"Well, it would nice to talk to you about it-"
"Why don't you leave me alone for the rest of the weekend?"
"Why don't I leave you alone for a long time?"
"Sounds good to me! How does forever sound?"
Before he can reply (and I'm betting his answer would have been "Not great"), she turns to the rest of us. "I'm tired, I'm going to bed. Don't drink too much, we have a wedding tomorrow."
And then she's gone. Neriah jumps up after her. Arkarian looks shaken. "Hey, Arkarian…"
"No thanks, Ethan. I'm going to bed too. Lord Penbarin will probably let me crash in his place."
Once he's gone, Rochelle moans and buries her face in her hands. "I told you we should have eloped," she mutters to Ethan. "Just one little trip to Las Vegas, that's all I said…"
"Yes, but then Isabel would have killed you." Matt mentions. "And that would have been no good either."
"I better go find her." Rochelle stands up, kissing Ethan. "See you guys tomorrow."
Even Jimmy looks kind of worn out. "Maybe turning in early isn't such a bad idea. We do have to get ready for a wedding bright and early tomorrow."
It is kind of early. The wedding is at eleven, so why Isabel's itinerary says I have to wake up at eight, I have no clue.
Soon it's just me, Matt, and Ethan in the dining room. "So, Dillon…" Matt turns to me with a smirk. "You're in love with the Bar Maid now?"
"No."
"But she's here."
"No."
"She's not yelling at you, either."
"Aren't you tired, too?"
"No, Neriah made me drink coke instead of ale. It really jazzes up an immortal. So, you really got her fired?"
This, I can tell already, is going to be a long night.
Okay, I'm sorry! My muse of inspiration left me for a time, but he's back now. Sorry if this chapter seemed a little rushed, especially the end, but i really, REALLY wanted to get this out tonight. THANK YOU ALL so much for your reviews: RoseZephyr, 2runaway, mugglecastlover31, LovelyLadyJem, ladyclaire4161, Hiho, tureLuV, FMA4EVER, IdiotAmerica56, Queen Mary Sue, KateShepard108, Dark Cloud Lighten my Path, and kenshinroks2111...
PLEASE keep them coming! They're a huge help! Until next time,
HaLo