Okayyy...sorry about this. My muse is insane, apparently, and this is what she wanted me to write. It goes back in time to when Rick was 16 and had first been accepted into the Companion training program. This is the same story, I promise, it's just a little farther back than I've written before. I hope you guys like it though. I fully intend to go back and write an M rated version and post it separately at some later date, but at least I can put this in the regular story without changing the rating. At least this one is a complete story, not a cliffhanger or anything. I hope it makes sense.
I own only the parts that sprung fully formed from my twisted imagination. All hail Marlowe and Joss is Boss.
He's a good looking boy, she'll grant him that much. Tall, a little bit on the gangly side still, but he's growing out of it. His features are just now beginning to mesh with his nose, and for all the grooming he's learned in the past two years, a few stubborn pimples cling to it yet. There are hints, the barest hints in the ridge of his brow and the cut of his jaw that tell of the rugged handsomeness that he will one day possess.
It is in his eyes, however, that his true beauty lies. Rich as sapphires, deep as the sky at dusk, the blue orbs nevertheless hold a spark of humor, of mischief, that promises to keep him, and those who come to know him, forever young.
He's barely sixteen.
That's unusual. Actually, it's unheard of. The vast majority of applicants are at least a year older and many of them do not gain acceptance for several years after that, if ever.
He's surpassed them all.
Knowing his Mother, perhaps she shouldn't be so surprised. She completed her internship in less than a year, became a full priestess by twenty-five and was in the running for the highest guild office on Londinium a mere ten years later.
And then she disappeared.
For two years, no one heard anything from the great Martha Rogers. When she returned, with a one year old Richard on her hip, she offered no explanations, no excuses, just an announcement of semi-retirement so that she could "raise her son as he ought to be raised".
Whatever that meant.
It was a scandal. Although they can and do act as surrogates for infertile clients on occasion, very few Companions choose to have their own children, and none save Martha Rogers, personally raise them. At least, as far as she knows.
She hasn't come by any of this information first hand of course, that would be against tradition. The inductee must be completely unknown to his or her mentor. A 'clean slate', as it were.
"Welcome, Richard,to this place of Holy Union," she intones, her training taking over. She bows reverently, her hands folded as they should be. He returns the gesture, not quite as graceful but far more eager. "My name is Amrapali Bimar, and I am to be your Companion this evening."
"You honor me, Lady Bimar, for I am but a humble student come seeking knowledge of your art, and am undeserving of such attentions." It's the customary answer, but she is struck by his voice, soft and low, without a trace of the adolescent wavering so common at his age. That voice will serve him well in this profession, or any other she supposes.
She chastises herself silently for allowing the distraction. Tonight is about him, and extraneous thoughts are unprofessional, to say the least.
He is just a boy, after all.
"Your right to be here has been well-earned. You have been judged worthy of the art, and tonight you begin a journey that will join you to us in body, as you have already joined us in mind. In time, you will join us in spirit as well, and on that day I will proudly greet you as an equal, and call you brother".
"But not today," he quips, smirking.
And although his cheeky comment is not part of the ritual, she cannot help but smile at his boldness. "No," she answers, "not today".
They sit and share the tea, according to the tradition. She sees more of his quick wit and humor as they speak, their banter easy and unrestrained.
He's a natural.
He tells her how he tricked the examiners into allowing him to take the tests at only fifteen, pointing out, rightly, that just because no one has ever tried that young, doesn't mean that it's prohibited.
"Easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission," he asserts, and she can't help but agree. He must be nervous, everyone is, the first time, but he gives no sign of it. He is a consummate storyteller, drawing one in without being intrusive. He's teasing, without being cruel. Wo de tian a, this boy could sell ice on Saint Albans.
The tea is still warm when she takes his hand, and if she is slightly overeager, she will beg Bhudda's pardon with extra incense on the morrow.
But not tonight.
Tonight, it is all about him.
Mal jerks awake to a sweaty brow and sticky sheets. It's far from the first wet dream he's had, (he is a healty sixteen, after all) but it is, by far, the most intense. Unfamiliar smells and tastes linger on his toungue and in his mind as he slowly regains awareness of his true surroundings. His room on Shadow seems dull and lifeless compared to the vividness that clings to his thoughts.
It all felt so real.
Not that he would know. The farthest he's gotten is a quick peck on the lips, snatched behind the barn from Marry Anne Watkins, when her parents came a-visiting last fall. They had offered Ma their small plot and what little was on it that couldn't be moved off-world. Something about taxes and such. He'd never seen her again.
But he sure had enjoyed that kiss.
This dream had been a hundred times better.
Shaking his head to clear it, he changes the bedding as fast as he can. He's got a long day tomorrow, and he needs his rest.
Plus, there's a chance that, if he falls asleep quickly enough, he might just find that dream again.
He doesn't.
Wo de tian a: Dear God in heaven
I'd like to thank Purplangel for helping me brainstorm this weird little idea. I know you've had a bit of a day and I hope this makes you feel better honey! (Sorry for the lack of smut though, just not feeling it tonight).
Oh, and have I mentioned that I don't mind reviews? I don't. At All.
Thanks for reading!