1 Riddles
Summary: Tired of his feelings for the Slayer, Spike ventures to Africa to seek help from a ancient demon, who forces him to take a trip down to memory lane. Feeding on the emotions Spike's memories evoke, the demon grows slowly stronger. As the story unfolds, we get to know the man behind the Bloody Awful poet before he gets reborn into darkness.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy are the creators of the Buffy universe and Spike. Please stop using my pretty Spike as a bloody punching bag!
Spoilers: end S6.
Rating: R, bad language, violence.
Note: based on spoilers - Spike goes to Africa to get his chip out, and probably doesn't return till next season. Just wanted to tell the tale of what happened to him in sunny Africa. Story told from his pov so it can be a bit confusing.
By Richard Bachman
Dedicated to all the Williams who are trying their best to get a break in life.
2 Part 4; Chasing Dreams
London --- May 1875 ---
Carriages, horses, trees and houses were passing by quickly, gliding past my vision like a blur.
My heart was racing, pounding rigorously while pumping hot blood through my body, flushing my cheeks crimson. The noise that it made was only exceeded by my heavy respiration as I struggled for air to supply to my heavily abused muscles.
Bloody hell, if I fell off this machine right now, I would certainly bleed to death on the streets.
Still, it was a great invention. It was much faster then the conventional horse carriages or walking, and it happened that I was really in a hurry right now.
With one hand steadying the steer, I managed to free the other hand to sound the horn a couple of times to warn the pedestrians walking in front of me to get out of my way. It was hard to get on or leap off the 5 feet high bicycle, and if I slowed down too much there was that ever present danger of losing my balance with the heavy bags that I was carrying. The gentleman and the lady who had been strolling leisurely on the bridge crossing the Thames were annoyed at my rude interception and he shouted after me.
"Youngman! These devil machines are not supposed to be ridden on the sidewalk! What in Gods name are you thinking! You scared the souls out of my wife and I!"
"I'm sorry Sir." I shouted back over my shoulders and steered my penny farthing down Wellington street into the direction of Regent's park. "But I can't drive this thing on the main road. My glasses tend to slide right off face with all the juddering."
Not that the sidewalk was that much better, but at least the road here was paved with tiles instead of cobblestones and you didn't get the impression of being heavily molested by some drunken sailor trying to stick a whole bicycle seat right up your ass.
"Youth nowadays!" The woman complained. "Always in hurry What ever happened to the good old days when everybody still took the time to travel?"
Sweat was already gushing down my temples, soaking my shirt and staining my jacket when I finally turn my vessel round the last corner of the winding path through the park and reached the secluded back entrance of the British museum. I tossed the leather bags off my shoulders and with a carefully practiced leap, I jumped off and landed just in front of the lime stone stairs. Grabbing my luggage together, I placed my bicycle against the wall, knowing very well that I shouldn't leave it here for thieves to get their hands on, but there was no time for me to store it somewhere properly. I just have to let it stand here and pray to our dear Lord that it would still be here when I return from my little six months trip.
I entered the west wing and rushed down the corridors in a most awkward part running part walking kind of way. The younger students were staring at me as though they were looking at a madman who had lost his right mind together with all of his good manners. A gentleman never runs, especially within the confines of a well established and with dusty traditions smouldered place like the British Museum. Just as I was thinking that the youngsters could all go to hell with their annoying glances, A company of ladies passed by and as they first stared, then started to giggle and whisper behind their flittering fans I could feel my cheeks flushing.
"Pardon me, my good ladies. Just happens to be in great hurry you see." I apologized most uncomfortably.
"So we see Mr Byron. You look very flushed indeed. Let me guess, your carriage broke down and you had to walk all the way to the museum?"
"N-No. No Ms Kingston, I'm just late. For a VERY important meeting that is."
I was mentally kicking myself for even caring about how she thought about me. Why did I bother every time to explain myself to this group of upper class vixens? Her approval was completely unimportant right now.
"Ms Kingston, I'm sorry but I really do have to part from your good company. Mr Bannister is waiting for me."
"Oh you have a meeting with Mr Banister! I see! Thank God Mr Byron! I thought by the look of your appearance and your behaviour that there might be a fire in the building or something as dreadful. But it's just Mr Banister you say?"
"Y-Yes j-just him. No fire or anything."
I smiled clumsily and was totally humiliated. If there were somewhere cracks in the walls large enough to fit me through with my vanishing ego I would have gladly disappeared out of their sights.
Ms Kingston and company started to laugh.
Stumbling over my own words, I managed to part from this pack of social hyenas while I constantly kept apologizing for my existence. I turned left a corridor too early just to get away from them, and urged myself to walk instead of running for the last few steps down to my uncle Henry's office.
When I arrived there, he was still occupied with packing his equipment into his trusted worn out back sack. I sighed out of relief and knocked on the opened door. Not that he would leave without saying properly goodbye to me of course. But then, I didn't come here just to say goodbye.
"William!" Uncle Henry placed the little pick-axe back in the carefully spread out collection on his table. "I wanted to drop by your office at the library as soon as I was finished packing, but it seems that you're even more anxious to see me go then your Aunt Hillary! Come in my boy!"
I stepped into the chaotic and pleasantly jam-packed room and closed the door behind me, while uncle Henry came over and gave me a big hug.
"This is going to be the day my dear boy! I'm going to trade these mouldy walls for dustier, more interesting destinations! Bloody hell! I've been sitting home for the last 12 months just waiting for my spinal injury to heal. I was so bored that I've picked up knitting from your aunt. Terrible waste of time if you ask me."
Uncle Henry gave me a gentle smile. If you could ignore the wrinkles and the residing hairline of his silvery locks that testified this age and concentrate on the mischievous glimmering of his eyes, he could truly be mistaken for someone even younger then I was.
The old man was still so full of life's spirit.
"But all the suffering is over starting from today! We are going back to Italy!" He picked up an ancient looking brush and blew between the hairs. Coughing happily as his lungs got a good portion of museum dust, he stared back at me with a slight air of puzzlement, not quite understanding why I wasn't joining him in his contagious enthusiasms.
"William, sit down my boy! Don't just stand there, I won't be ready packing anytime soon and Jonathan and me are only leaving for central station around noon. Your legs will be very tired by the time you have to walk us outside and help carrying my luggage."
I smiled and dropped the bags I was carrying on the floor. They fell with a heavy thump, surprising my uncle.
"Say tiger, what did you put in those bags of yours? Books from the museum library? You better be careful with those! Most of them are ancient since they are running out of money to maintain the collection."
I settled myself in the dark leather chair that was facing the window and my uncle's desk, and tried to look as confident and at ease as possible, trying to remember the sentences of my little speech that I had practiced over and over again that morning before I came to see him.
"They are not books uncle. Well, at least not all of them."
"Oh, but that sounded rather heavy. What's in there then? A Bon voyage gift for your dear old uncle perhaps?" he laughed.
I swallowed hard before I dare to start.
"There are digging equipments in those bags. And detailed maps of the Campania region."
As I looked at my uncle's startled face, I immediately became fully aware that he had forgotten what he had promised to me. As was expected. But I wasn't going to let this hold me back. Just like my uncle I've waited too long for this opportunity to just let it pass me by without a proper strike.
Henry looked at me, not quiet knowing what to say, but trying anyway to persuade me to stay here in London. It didn't matter. I didn't care what he would tell me but I was leaving for Italy this afternoon for sure. I had thought out every argument, every possible way he would try to sway me off my plans and I've managed to think of a strong rational answer against every single one of them. Uncle Henry was not going to outsmart me this time.
Uncle Henry remained silent for a long moment, then shook his head and asked "William, what do you think you are going to do with those?"
I rolled my eyes in annoyance as I realized that I really didn't know how to reply to him on this one. Troubled, I opened my mouth, hoping that my mind would clear and that somehow one of those well-practiced sentences of mine would roll out by accident, but instead of the responsible young adult that I wanted to be in front of my uncle's wary eyes, I sounded much more like a needy little brat.
"I want to go to Italy with you and finally do some fieldwork uncle Henry. That's what these tools are for. You know, I brought these when I was twelve ever since you told me that one day I would be allowed to come with you to see Pompeii, Naples, Rome. You promised me the world uncle but so far you haven't exactly kept your word. "
"William, I -"
"Oh no! Oooh no! You're not going to talk me out of this, again. I thought about it long and hard this time, and I'm well prepared. I've managed to get a grant for the work I'm going to do in Pompei, so you don't have to worry about my finances. I'm in good physical condition to travel since I've been using the penny farthing to come to work every single day and I've learned to swim last summer. And-and also, I'm somehow no longer allergic to scrimps, so there! You really can't turn me down this time uncle!
"Have you talked to your mother about this William? I mean, does Lily know that you're leaving?"
I gasped for air. He got me there.
"Well, Yes she knows. I guess."
My uncle gave me a confused look. Can't blame him for raising an eyebrow at that crystal clear answer of mine.
"You guess that she knows?"
"Well, I didn't exactly tell here what I was up to. But I left a letter on the vanity in her bedroom, so I supposeā¦"
"William! Don't tell me you were planning to leave your old mother in London all by herself with only a scribble from you to let her know that her only son is somewhere safe! How could you do such an awful egoistic thing?"
"I-I don't want, I mean I didn't want to leave like this. Honest uncle Henry. The very last thing I want is to hurt her and see her in tears. But you know how she is. She would never let me go. If it was up to her I would stay here in London wasting my days away in the British library, categorizing rows of books nobody ever reads and shifting bloody papers on my desk all day. That's not the reason why I went to study archaeology!"
"You don't need to do fieldwork to be a good scientist William. You can learn a lot by doing theoretical research. Getting your hands in the dirt is only one way of digging out the past."
"Yes, but it is the most exciting way, isn't it? And I want to be a part of it. I'm sick of sitting here all day watching the mould grow over the exposition pieces. I'm sick of only reading about those things my eyes yearn to see or my hands crave to tough. There is a whole world outside these dark and dank rooms that is waiting to be explored and all I have and want to do is get out there and bloody well start digging."
My cheeks were flushed, not out of embarrassment this time but out of anger. How dare this man tell me what to do with my life? How dare he keep me away from my dreams while he could afford to fully indulge into his own?
Why is life so bloody unfair?
My uncle reached out to me and tried to put a hand on my shoulder to calm me down, but I pushed him away. I didn't want his bloody sympathy if he was going to shatter all my hopes again.
"William, please listen to me. You know I love you and your mother dearly, and I would do anything if possible to make you both the happiest people on earth, but you can't come to Italy with me. Do you understand?"
Somehow I managed to hold back the tears that were stinging behind my eyes.
Uncle lowered his gaze and squeezed his nose bridge.
"Oh dear God, this is hard. William, I didn't tell you this because I didn't have the heart to do so in the past. But ---"
"You have the heart to tell me now?"
"My dear boy, you do understand that after so many years you'll have to face the facts! There's no possible way that you can do archaeological fieldwork, however much I would love to let you I simply can't take the risk of getting you injured on the job. It's far too dangerous considering your condition."
"My condition."
My hands were trembling. Sorrow and frustration were fighting their way through my soul, but were overshadowed by the throbbing anger that clawed its way to the surface.
So at the end, it was the same old freaking song.
They were still afraid that my Haemophilia would get me killed.
"What the bloody hell do you know about my condition uncle Henry?!" I snapped, my voice full of hostility. "You haven't been around much, not with your frequent trips to Africa and southern Europe and all. You know if you've never intended to let me join your team, why the hell did you keep telling me those sodding fairytale stories? Oh, no William, you 're much too young and too ill, but someday --- someday the curse of youth and your sodding blood condition will be lifted and your dear old uncle Henry will take you to the places that you've dreamed of ever since you've been a child! I believed your words uncle! I believed that, if I just tried hard enough and long enough I will eventually get there --- and now it turns out that all your precious promises have only been a bunch of convenient lies?!!"
"It was for your own good son. Just as turning you down now is for your own good.
I'm sorry William."
"Yeah, You're sorry. Poor William. Believed every word I said. The stupid idiot! The absolute FOOL!"
I was trembling now all over my body. Tears that were held back so cautiously started to fall as my anger ebbed away and left me with cold numbing pain as the shards of my broken dream cut my heart into pieces. So this was it then. The long awaited and much dreaded final answer to all of my questions. I would never see the sunset on my father's forgotten cities with my own eyes.
My uncle continued to talk to me, trying to bring me to my senses with his rational argumentation. How my blood illness could become a serious issue when I became heavily injured in a country such as Italy where the medical care was badly organized and primitive. How much he loved my mother and me and how he could never forgive himself if anything terrible would happen to us.
For the first time in my life, I heard his explanations stripped away from all the lies till all that there was left was the naked, ugly truth.
A very painful truth.
I let his words slide down my consciousness like heavy rain, wary no longer of their meaning. Dazed and hurt, I kept my eyes from meeting with his, for I knew that whenever I looked into those eyes, I would remember the promises that they once held.
It was not until we heard my cousin Jonathan knocking at the door that I somehow returned to reality and managed to excuse myself.
"William."
Already on my way out, I gazed over my shoulders hesitatingly, not daring to expect much out of this last call.
"Would you still be here when I and Jonathan leave for central station? I mean, I do want to say goodbye to you, properly. If you still want it of course. "
There was so much guilt and grief in his voice that I couldn't get it over my heart to tell him that I really couldn't stand seeing him any longer. Not with all those false hopes he had given me all these years.
Not now he had destroyed everything I'd ever believed in.
"I will be here. See you around eleven uncle. You too Jonathan."
I nodded with my lips pulled into a wavering smile as my cousin entered the room wearing a radiant grin on his face. In his arms he held a big pile of maps and journals, ready to be shipped in boxes and be taken with them to Italy.
"You really should help my dad with his luggage." He teased benevolently. "You should see the steamer trunks full of books and paperwork my old man is taken with him on the trip. I tell you, our entire study room is cleared out."
I forced myself to smile at my cousin's joke and left their company in silence. Back at my office in the British library, I sank down on the floor as soon as I shut the door behind me. I sat there in my dank and dark room, with my legs pulled close to my chest and my hands folded over my face to block out everything around me, to shut down that god awful hurting inside.
I didn't get up till the whole morning had slipped by unnoticed and it was already far past noon.
TBC
Summary: Tired of his feelings for the Slayer, Spike ventures to Africa to seek help from a ancient demon, who forces him to take a trip down to memory lane. Feeding on the emotions Spike's memories evoke, the demon grows slowly stronger. As the story unfolds, we get to know the man behind the Bloody Awful poet before he gets reborn into darkness.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy are the creators of the Buffy universe and Spike. Please stop using my pretty Spike as a bloody punching bag!
Spoilers: end S6.
Rating: R, bad language, violence.
Note: based on spoilers - Spike goes to Africa to get his chip out, and probably doesn't return till next season. Just wanted to tell the tale of what happened to him in sunny Africa. Story told from his pov so it can be a bit confusing.
By Richard Bachman
Dedicated to all the Williams who are trying their best to get a break in life.
2 Part 4; Chasing Dreams
London --- May 1875 ---
Carriages, horses, trees and houses were passing by quickly, gliding past my vision like a blur.
My heart was racing, pounding rigorously while pumping hot blood through my body, flushing my cheeks crimson. The noise that it made was only exceeded by my heavy respiration as I struggled for air to supply to my heavily abused muscles.
Bloody hell, if I fell off this machine right now, I would certainly bleed to death on the streets.
Still, it was a great invention. It was much faster then the conventional horse carriages or walking, and it happened that I was really in a hurry right now.
With one hand steadying the steer, I managed to free the other hand to sound the horn a couple of times to warn the pedestrians walking in front of me to get out of my way. It was hard to get on or leap off the 5 feet high bicycle, and if I slowed down too much there was that ever present danger of losing my balance with the heavy bags that I was carrying. The gentleman and the lady who had been strolling leisurely on the bridge crossing the Thames were annoyed at my rude interception and he shouted after me.
"Youngman! These devil machines are not supposed to be ridden on the sidewalk! What in Gods name are you thinking! You scared the souls out of my wife and I!"
"I'm sorry Sir." I shouted back over my shoulders and steered my penny farthing down Wellington street into the direction of Regent's park. "But I can't drive this thing on the main road. My glasses tend to slide right off face with all the juddering."
Not that the sidewalk was that much better, but at least the road here was paved with tiles instead of cobblestones and you didn't get the impression of being heavily molested by some drunken sailor trying to stick a whole bicycle seat right up your ass.
"Youth nowadays!" The woman complained. "Always in hurry What ever happened to the good old days when everybody still took the time to travel?"
Sweat was already gushing down my temples, soaking my shirt and staining my jacket when I finally turn my vessel round the last corner of the winding path through the park and reached the secluded back entrance of the British museum. I tossed the leather bags off my shoulders and with a carefully practiced leap, I jumped off and landed just in front of the lime stone stairs. Grabbing my luggage together, I placed my bicycle against the wall, knowing very well that I shouldn't leave it here for thieves to get their hands on, but there was no time for me to store it somewhere properly. I just have to let it stand here and pray to our dear Lord that it would still be here when I return from my little six months trip.
I entered the west wing and rushed down the corridors in a most awkward part running part walking kind of way. The younger students were staring at me as though they were looking at a madman who had lost his right mind together with all of his good manners. A gentleman never runs, especially within the confines of a well established and with dusty traditions smouldered place like the British Museum. Just as I was thinking that the youngsters could all go to hell with their annoying glances, A company of ladies passed by and as they first stared, then started to giggle and whisper behind their flittering fans I could feel my cheeks flushing.
"Pardon me, my good ladies. Just happens to be in great hurry you see." I apologized most uncomfortably.
"So we see Mr Byron. You look very flushed indeed. Let me guess, your carriage broke down and you had to walk all the way to the museum?"
"N-No. No Ms Kingston, I'm just late. For a VERY important meeting that is."
I was mentally kicking myself for even caring about how she thought about me. Why did I bother every time to explain myself to this group of upper class vixens? Her approval was completely unimportant right now.
"Ms Kingston, I'm sorry but I really do have to part from your good company. Mr Bannister is waiting for me."
"Oh you have a meeting with Mr Banister! I see! Thank God Mr Byron! I thought by the look of your appearance and your behaviour that there might be a fire in the building or something as dreadful. But it's just Mr Banister you say?"
"Y-Yes j-just him. No fire or anything."
I smiled clumsily and was totally humiliated. If there were somewhere cracks in the walls large enough to fit me through with my vanishing ego I would have gladly disappeared out of their sights.
Ms Kingston and company started to laugh.
Stumbling over my own words, I managed to part from this pack of social hyenas while I constantly kept apologizing for my existence. I turned left a corridor too early just to get away from them, and urged myself to walk instead of running for the last few steps down to my uncle Henry's office.
When I arrived there, he was still occupied with packing his equipment into his trusted worn out back sack. I sighed out of relief and knocked on the opened door. Not that he would leave without saying properly goodbye to me of course. But then, I didn't come here just to say goodbye.
"William!" Uncle Henry placed the little pick-axe back in the carefully spread out collection on his table. "I wanted to drop by your office at the library as soon as I was finished packing, but it seems that you're even more anxious to see me go then your Aunt Hillary! Come in my boy!"
I stepped into the chaotic and pleasantly jam-packed room and closed the door behind me, while uncle Henry came over and gave me a big hug.
"This is going to be the day my dear boy! I'm going to trade these mouldy walls for dustier, more interesting destinations! Bloody hell! I've been sitting home for the last 12 months just waiting for my spinal injury to heal. I was so bored that I've picked up knitting from your aunt. Terrible waste of time if you ask me."
Uncle Henry gave me a gentle smile. If you could ignore the wrinkles and the residing hairline of his silvery locks that testified this age and concentrate on the mischievous glimmering of his eyes, he could truly be mistaken for someone even younger then I was.
The old man was still so full of life's spirit.
"But all the suffering is over starting from today! We are going back to Italy!" He picked up an ancient looking brush and blew between the hairs. Coughing happily as his lungs got a good portion of museum dust, he stared back at me with a slight air of puzzlement, not quite understanding why I wasn't joining him in his contagious enthusiasms.
"William, sit down my boy! Don't just stand there, I won't be ready packing anytime soon and Jonathan and me are only leaving for central station around noon. Your legs will be very tired by the time you have to walk us outside and help carrying my luggage."
I smiled and dropped the bags I was carrying on the floor. They fell with a heavy thump, surprising my uncle.
"Say tiger, what did you put in those bags of yours? Books from the museum library? You better be careful with those! Most of them are ancient since they are running out of money to maintain the collection."
I settled myself in the dark leather chair that was facing the window and my uncle's desk, and tried to look as confident and at ease as possible, trying to remember the sentences of my little speech that I had practiced over and over again that morning before I came to see him.
"They are not books uncle. Well, at least not all of them."
"Oh, but that sounded rather heavy. What's in there then? A Bon voyage gift for your dear old uncle perhaps?" he laughed.
I swallowed hard before I dare to start.
"There are digging equipments in those bags. And detailed maps of the Campania region."
As I looked at my uncle's startled face, I immediately became fully aware that he had forgotten what he had promised to me. As was expected. But I wasn't going to let this hold me back. Just like my uncle I've waited too long for this opportunity to just let it pass me by without a proper strike.
Henry looked at me, not quiet knowing what to say, but trying anyway to persuade me to stay here in London. It didn't matter. I didn't care what he would tell me but I was leaving for Italy this afternoon for sure. I had thought out every argument, every possible way he would try to sway me off my plans and I've managed to think of a strong rational answer against every single one of them. Uncle Henry was not going to outsmart me this time.
Uncle Henry remained silent for a long moment, then shook his head and asked "William, what do you think you are going to do with those?"
I rolled my eyes in annoyance as I realized that I really didn't know how to reply to him on this one. Troubled, I opened my mouth, hoping that my mind would clear and that somehow one of those well-practiced sentences of mine would roll out by accident, but instead of the responsible young adult that I wanted to be in front of my uncle's wary eyes, I sounded much more like a needy little brat.
"I want to go to Italy with you and finally do some fieldwork uncle Henry. That's what these tools are for. You know, I brought these when I was twelve ever since you told me that one day I would be allowed to come with you to see Pompeii, Naples, Rome. You promised me the world uncle but so far you haven't exactly kept your word. "
"William, I -"
"Oh no! Oooh no! You're not going to talk me out of this, again. I thought about it long and hard this time, and I'm well prepared. I've managed to get a grant for the work I'm going to do in Pompei, so you don't have to worry about my finances. I'm in good physical condition to travel since I've been using the penny farthing to come to work every single day and I've learned to swim last summer. And-and also, I'm somehow no longer allergic to scrimps, so there! You really can't turn me down this time uncle!
"Have you talked to your mother about this William? I mean, does Lily know that you're leaving?"
I gasped for air. He got me there.
"Well, Yes she knows. I guess."
My uncle gave me a confused look. Can't blame him for raising an eyebrow at that crystal clear answer of mine.
"You guess that she knows?"
"Well, I didn't exactly tell here what I was up to. But I left a letter on the vanity in her bedroom, so I supposeā¦"
"William! Don't tell me you were planning to leave your old mother in London all by herself with only a scribble from you to let her know that her only son is somewhere safe! How could you do such an awful egoistic thing?"
"I-I don't want, I mean I didn't want to leave like this. Honest uncle Henry. The very last thing I want is to hurt her and see her in tears. But you know how she is. She would never let me go. If it was up to her I would stay here in London wasting my days away in the British library, categorizing rows of books nobody ever reads and shifting bloody papers on my desk all day. That's not the reason why I went to study archaeology!"
"You don't need to do fieldwork to be a good scientist William. You can learn a lot by doing theoretical research. Getting your hands in the dirt is only one way of digging out the past."
"Yes, but it is the most exciting way, isn't it? And I want to be a part of it. I'm sick of sitting here all day watching the mould grow over the exposition pieces. I'm sick of only reading about those things my eyes yearn to see or my hands crave to tough. There is a whole world outside these dark and dank rooms that is waiting to be explored and all I have and want to do is get out there and bloody well start digging."
My cheeks were flushed, not out of embarrassment this time but out of anger. How dare this man tell me what to do with my life? How dare he keep me away from my dreams while he could afford to fully indulge into his own?
Why is life so bloody unfair?
My uncle reached out to me and tried to put a hand on my shoulder to calm me down, but I pushed him away. I didn't want his bloody sympathy if he was going to shatter all my hopes again.
"William, please listen to me. You know I love you and your mother dearly, and I would do anything if possible to make you both the happiest people on earth, but you can't come to Italy with me. Do you understand?"
Somehow I managed to hold back the tears that were stinging behind my eyes.
Uncle lowered his gaze and squeezed his nose bridge.
"Oh dear God, this is hard. William, I didn't tell you this because I didn't have the heart to do so in the past. But ---"
"You have the heart to tell me now?"
"My dear boy, you do understand that after so many years you'll have to face the facts! There's no possible way that you can do archaeological fieldwork, however much I would love to let you I simply can't take the risk of getting you injured on the job. It's far too dangerous considering your condition."
"My condition."
My hands were trembling. Sorrow and frustration were fighting their way through my soul, but were overshadowed by the throbbing anger that clawed its way to the surface.
So at the end, it was the same old freaking song.
They were still afraid that my Haemophilia would get me killed.
"What the bloody hell do you know about my condition uncle Henry?!" I snapped, my voice full of hostility. "You haven't been around much, not with your frequent trips to Africa and southern Europe and all. You know if you've never intended to let me join your team, why the hell did you keep telling me those sodding fairytale stories? Oh, no William, you 're much too young and too ill, but someday --- someday the curse of youth and your sodding blood condition will be lifted and your dear old uncle Henry will take you to the places that you've dreamed of ever since you've been a child! I believed your words uncle! I believed that, if I just tried hard enough and long enough I will eventually get there --- and now it turns out that all your precious promises have only been a bunch of convenient lies?!!"
"It was for your own good son. Just as turning you down now is for your own good.
I'm sorry William."
"Yeah, You're sorry. Poor William. Believed every word I said. The stupid idiot! The absolute FOOL!"
I was trembling now all over my body. Tears that were held back so cautiously started to fall as my anger ebbed away and left me with cold numbing pain as the shards of my broken dream cut my heart into pieces. So this was it then. The long awaited and much dreaded final answer to all of my questions. I would never see the sunset on my father's forgotten cities with my own eyes.
My uncle continued to talk to me, trying to bring me to my senses with his rational argumentation. How my blood illness could become a serious issue when I became heavily injured in a country such as Italy where the medical care was badly organized and primitive. How much he loved my mother and me and how he could never forgive himself if anything terrible would happen to us.
For the first time in my life, I heard his explanations stripped away from all the lies till all that there was left was the naked, ugly truth.
A very painful truth.
I let his words slide down my consciousness like heavy rain, wary no longer of their meaning. Dazed and hurt, I kept my eyes from meeting with his, for I knew that whenever I looked into those eyes, I would remember the promises that they once held.
It was not until we heard my cousin Jonathan knocking at the door that I somehow returned to reality and managed to excuse myself.
"William."
Already on my way out, I gazed over my shoulders hesitatingly, not daring to expect much out of this last call.
"Would you still be here when I and Jonathan leave for central station? I mean, I do want to say goodbye to you, properly. If you still want it of course. "
There was so much guilt and grief in his voice that I couldn't get it over my heart to tell him that I really couldn't stand seeing him any longer. Not with all those false hopes he had given me all these years.
Not now he had destroyed everything I'd ever believed in.
"I will be here. See you around eleven uncle. You too Jonathan."
I nodded with my lips pulled into a wavering smile as my cousin entered the room wearing a radiant grin on his face. In his arms he held a big pile of maps and journals, ready to be shipped in boxes and be taken with them to Italy.
"You really should help my dad with his luggage." He teased benevolently. "You should see the steamer trunks full of books and paperwork my old man is taken with him on the trip. I tell you, our entire study room is cleared out."
I forced myself to smile at my cousin's joke and left their company in silence. Back at my office in the British library, I sank down on the floor as soon as I shut the door behind me. I sat there in my dank and dark room, with my legs pulled close to my chest and my hands folded over my face to block out everything around me, to shut down that god awful hurting inside.
I didn't get up till the whole morning had slipped by unnoticed and it was already far past noon.
TBC
