Episode The Third:
Discovery!
In which Magatha suffers from Hayfever and a Hero, Thaddeus is Unnerved, and Various Incidents Occur.
Part One
Flowers. Oh, bugger.
Magatha sneezed explosively, an action which succeeded in blowing away several of the offending blooms and clearing her muzzy head. Unfortunately, it also attracted the attention of the black-clad gentleman standing across the room. Magatha cursed silently as he approached: that muzzy feeling could only mean one thing, and it was a thing she desperately wished hadn't happened.
"My sweet love, you are awake! Come; let me clasp you in my arms-"
"Aark!" Magatha rolled sideways off the bed- oh, gods, a bed? - and left the man clasping at a cloud of rose petals. "No! Don't touch!"
Magatha backed away, racking her brain for memories of the night before. The tower- yes, she'd fallen off the tower and he'd caught her . . . in midair . . . and then-
Dammit! Nothing but bloody pink fluff. She sneezed again. It was bad enough that the damned woman had to poke her head up at all, let alone leave Magatha with a head full of moonbeams and candy floss. If she could only remember . . .
"Dearest, what is it that ails you?" The man had his arm around her waist now, how the hell had he done that? She'd, she'd been watching him, blast it all, and she could have sworn he hadn't moved from the other side of the bed. "Art ill, my precious flower? Pray speak, that I may lay my life at thy feet to aid thee!"
Magatha blinked. The man's hand- the one not currently circling her waist, that is, and she was extremely grateful to find her waist (and indeed the rest of herself) still fully clothed- brushed against her forehead. It was all very disconcerting.
"Look, just- just stop for a moment, yes?" She pulled away, and felt a lump rise in her throat when his arms resisted for a moment. Free, she backed away until the rose-strewn bed separated them once more, willfully ignoring the little voice in her head that reminded her that that hadn't exactly stopped him the first time. Magatha took a deep breath, rubbed her hands across her face and breathed out slowly.
"Right . . ." Oh, gods, the door was behind him now. How was she supposed to get out?
"Dear heart, what hath brought about this sudden distemper? Is't-"
Magatha snapped. She'd had enough of this, of the confusion and the not knowing what had happened and the formal speech- not even her grandfather had spoken like that!- of the itch in her nose courtesy of all those bloody flowers and most of all, Magatha had had enough of the feeling that this wall all too too much and that at any moment she would break down and-
No. That wasn't going to happen.
"Stop! Stop talking, stop going on like you're some sort of bloody knight errant, all right! I don't know who the hell you are, I don't know where the hell I am, but you-" by now she was screaming, pointing a shaking finger at the pale man, "-you are going to take me home. This instant. And, and I don't care if that doesn't play into your stupid little game, or whatever this is, but I've had enough and if you don't let me go I'll scream and I'll scream until the Watch come and kill you!"
Pause, Magatha panting with exertion. And sniffing, because those bloody flowers just didn't know when to stop, did they?
The man shifted his weight uncertainly and Magatha almost sobbed, "No, no, don't move! Just stay there!"
"You don't understand, do you?"
"What?"
"I can't let you go now."
"Um, no, yes you bloody well can!"
"NO!" shouted the man. His voice echoed around the room; quite a feat, as the room was barely fifteen feet across. "I claim but a single kiss to seal our love, damsel. Would'st thou leave me so unsatisfied?"
"Yes, I bloody well would!"
"You cannot!" The man looked even paler now, his eyes dark holes in his face. "Dost our conversation of last night mean naught to you? Hast no regard for my rescue of you sweet self from certain doom?"
"Certain what?" snapped Magatha. She hadn't been in any danger, surely. . . oh. "Thaddeus."
"You fled his advances and I saved thee! Does this hold no merit in thy heart?"
Magatha groaned. "No, look, you've got it all wrong. He wasn't- look it isn't any of your business, all right? Just let me out of here and leave me alone."
"Fair maid, thou know'st that is impossible."
"I think it's extremely possible, actually. You show me the door, I leave, you stay the hell away from me forever. Capische?"
"Blossom of my eye, without the kiss-"
"I AM NOT GOING TO KISS YOU!"
"Oi!" There was a banging on the wall Magatha had backed into. "Keep it down, willya? Some of us're trying to sleep over here!"
Magatha started. People? Thank the gods! She started to pound on the wall. "Help! HELP ME! Someone get me out of here!"
"Wot?"
"I'm stuck in here with a man! Help me!"
"Look, lass, I don't wanna mess in no domestics, right? You-"
Magatha growled in the back of her throat. Bastard. "I'll pay you!"
"Be right over!"
11
Thaddeus stared aghast at the newspaper as everything came flooding back to him. The scream, the lights- then-
Everything. Every sense in his body screaming in glee, the wind whipping past his face and the colours. Oh, the colours. Brighter, richer, every detail and blemish and perfection standing out to him. The delicate blush of a solitary dandelion in some guttering as he swooped- yes, swooped down onto the lady's attacker. The oily glint of tiny puddles between the cobblestones as his fist connected, sending the criminal flying into a wall, the bricks of which were a mad mosaic of red-brown canals and ranges with tiny flecks of darker stone. The fug of the streets roiling past in great smoky waves as he, purse in hand and girl in other hand, soared above the rooftops of Ankh Morpork . . .
The retrospective made him shudder. Thaddeus had never been much of a one for heights.
And now this. He'd been aware of the flashes, of course, he'd been acutely aware of everything, even the acoustics of a drunk heaving up his liquid dinner in an alleyway as he flew above. Somehow, though, he hadn't connected the lights to this.
Oh well. At least he could be thankful none of the photographs had caught his face.
- - -
Hurrah, another installment done. Not quite so many jokes in this one, though. My fingers are a little cold, which may have something to do with it- I'm not sure.
Some of you may have noticed that I've started (yet) another multi-chapter fic. Have no fear! I still remain loyal to Mild Mannered and, to a lesser degree, To Catch a Sue (the lesser extent due to me trying to figure out how to bring the plot into play. And lack of reviews. Few reviews me losing heart me paying more attention to other things. Forgive me, for I am weak). The Business is a strictly limited piece, it'll have five chapters at the very most and they'll all be reasonably short. Also on the other-stories-front, I've finally determined to fix the formatting in those first few chapters of Social Intercourse. Yes, finally.
Thanks to all my lovely reviewers again- you keep me going, eh! This chapter is about, oh, three hundred or so words longer than the last one, which still doesn't beat my longest-chappie record (actually, I'm not sure how long my longest chapter is. Heh) and definitely does better than my shortest ones (which range around the 200 word mark, horror of horrors).
