XXXIV

Uncommon Fate

It seemed an eternity that he was submerged. Everything had been muffled out, unimportant, numbed out… Sounds slowly surfaced through the filter of whatever was muffling them out. In one breath's moment he was flooded by the most agonizing pain, a deafening throbbing in his brain that seemed to ripple all the way down to his toes. The scent of blood, smoke and smelling salts made him wrinkle his nose and turn his head away. He regretted the move immediately when a piercing pang seared up his spine and straight into his legs.

Attempting to open his eyes, he caught only the faintest sign of a torn flag above before it all faded to black once more.

Rathbone woke to the sound of rustling and birds chirping. He squinted against the light that flooded into his eyes and moaned at the ache in his entire body.

"Oh!" Cried a small, squeaky voice. The light quickly faded out again. "I'm sorry, if that was too bright."

Rathbone cleared his throat as best he could, pulling a heavy hand to his eyes to wipe out the blurs. "…Agatha?"

"Yes, how are you feeling?"

"Like…I fell out of the London Clock Tower."

"You did."

Rathbone's eyes opened, brows knotted unevenly as he scoured the room from his bed. Agatha stood there, hands clasped as she patiently waited at the foot of his bed. "I…did?"

She nodded most seriously, "You certainly did, sir. Why, you've been getting so many missives since the incident, I've had to tell the papers you're unavailable to write anything as of yet."

"How long have I been out?"

"Well," She thought, "We thought you were waking several times yesterday. I'm so glad you're awake now, sir!"

Sighing, he frowned at the rest of his room…he certainly felt like he'd been sleeping under the bar of an enormous mousetrap for the last week. "What time is it now?"

"Ten o'clock in the morning, sir." She said as her skirts rustled as she crossed the room to the small table and lifted the daily paper, "Wouldn't you know it, sir. This is the second time you've knocked Jack the Ripper off the front page!" She giggled, handing him the paper.

Scuffing his hair about, he carefully moved back to the stack of pillows before he took the paper from her. His eyes turned down to the page…he blinked. Then blinked again. "This is today's?"

"Yes, sir. Yesterday's is on the rack as usual. There's three days worth you haven't read."

"I…landed on someone?" He asked with bafflement.

"Oh yes!" She said direly and then grinned widely, "Inspector Doyle confirmed it was Jack the Ripper himself and closed the case. He's even pardoned from that little break-in on Baker Street once your letter reached the Queen. She pardoned you all, in fact. Except those Boxers, naturally… And that Looney Lin!"

His attention snapped to the housekeeper. "Chon Lin," He corrected her absently, "What about her?"

"Miss Chon's nothing to do with the boxers like everyone said."

"She's alive?" He blinked, "Is she pardoned as well?" He was unable to mask his hopefulness. Perhaps his information to Gilroy had paid off…it was more than likely the gossip of Rathbone's own uncertainties, victimizing himself had lured some sympathy from the right names. Being Her Majesty's favorite likely had something to do with that as well.

Mrs. Lindon blinked oddly at him and nodded, "Yes, indeed. I found it very odd as well. But!" She threw her hands up with a chipper resolve, "I don't know the details and therefore cannot judge."

Rathbone stared down at the front page, befuddled beyond words. "They were…knighted?" His nose wrinkled at the idea. He lowered the paper to his lap and looked aghast to his housekeeper… Knighting foreigners was simply not done. Not to mention attacking the Queen's favorite cousin and dropping him out of a clock tower…it seemed there should have been too many points against those men to be knighted.

"Indeed!" She said, collecting the morning's cold breakfast, "Shall I have the boy send up a late breakfast for you?"

"The boy?"

Mrs. Lindon blinked at him, balancing the tray on her hip. "Yes. Mr. Chaplin. Charlie. The boy you brought here some time ago?"

Rathbone's eyes lit up with recognition, "Yes, I …thought he had gone. I'd like to speak with him."

"I thought so," She said with a knowing smile as she stepped towards the doorway, "He was the only one who managed to pocket a bottle of smelling salts when they found you. Everyone thought you were dead! Lucky that murderer broke your fall…and the fountain. Well, Charlie will be in soon with your breakfast."

Rathbone poured over the pages of the paper, downing his coffee before Charlie came waddling in with a breakfast tray.

"Well," He said, sizing up Rathbone who looked up expectantly from his paper. "You've looked better."

"I thought you were leaving."

"Nah," He shook his head, setting the tray on the small table before he turned back to Rathbone, "No' yet. O'bannon and Chon say they' gonna go to America. Thought I'd try stealin' a ride wit' them."

Faintly smiling, Rathbone shrugged, "If that's what you want."

"Yeah." Charlie hopped onto the end of the bed, tugging at the buttons of his new vest. "Doyle's goin' to China to return the seal." Rathbone nodded, sliding carefully out of bed with discomfort. Charlie jumped from the bed, moving to grab his arm.

"I'm fine, go on." He nodded Charlie away.

Charlie stepped back, watching him carefully as he straightened his sleeping clothes and slipped into a robe. "You know, I think you ought to go get 'er."

Passing Charlie, Rathbone shot him a grimacing face. "Lin wouldn't want to see me…she's got a good thing with that American, I'm sure."

"What?" Charlie scoffed, walking with him to the small table and helping himself to a chair as they both seated themselves. "Tha' Roy's funny enough to 'er. But it aint him she keeps askin' 'bout."

Dropping the napkin to his lap, Rathbone looked curiously to Charlie.

Matter-of-factly Charlie nodded, "Yeah. I think you ought to go after 'er. She's miserable ole the time. I know. I'm the one whose oleways answerin' doors. Every day, twice a day even, she comes knockin'."

Hope seemed to stir his appetite, "Will she be coming back today?"

Charlie's nose wrinkled. He shook his head, slouching back in his chair.

"Don't slouch. Why not?"

Huffing, Charlie scooted up straight. "'Coz she's 'avin' luncheon at Buckin'am Palace. The're leavin' tomorrow. I might be goin' myself. 'Aven't made my mind up yet, though."

Rathbone lowered the fork, "Tomorrow." He repeated…

"Tha's whoy I'm sayin'. If you wanna get 'er, now's the time."

Rathbone hesitated before he shook his head. "No…"

"Why!"

"Charlie, I can barely walk yet… What makes you think I could even defend myself if those two morons come at me?" Slapping aside the cloth napkin, he rubbed his lower lip pensively. Suddenly the idea struck him. A resolved gleam flickered in his eyes as he looked to his young friend. "How would you like to take on one more mission for me … until I am able to catch up?"

Charlie grinned, "You're on."