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The door opens... and it seems Sharpe wasn't expecting it to open here right this moment, because he's not alone when he walks in.

He's going slowly and carefully, for reasons that become clear when he gets all the way in... and so does the very small boy clinging to his hand and toddling after him.

Welcome to Milliways, Patrick Lassan.

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And he smirks.

"Busy man."

"Something like that", he agrees, amused.

Patrick has had one of those small-child energy crashes and fallen asleep.

And Matt's holding him carefully.

"So you're settled now?"

"As I'll ever be."

He still gets the urge for action, sometimes... but it passes.

"Better for you, or at least better for him," he nods to Patrick.

"Yeah. My army days are over now, brother. For good."

Well, so he thinks, anyway.

"So you say now."

"The war's done", he says with a shrug. "And I made her a promise. And then... there's only so far any man can push his luck."

He's got no desire to die.

"Wars are never done," and he looks sad as he says this, "and they know where to find you, I'll bet."

"Aye, they know where to contact me. But I'm under no obligation to go back, Matt. I resigned my commission and all."

"They'll find something," he says. He doesn't trust the government, not in the least. Not when he'd seen those working for it starve women and children.

"There's nothing the army could use without breaking their own laws", Sharpe tries to reassure him. "Patrick's back in Dublin or Donegal by now, and he and I are the last of the Chosen Men."

"And you think men won't break their own rules to get what they want?"

"I think if they wanted me back in the army badly enough to go to that trouble, brother, I'd have no business refusing. I'm not the only good shot in England or France, nor the only good soldier."

His voice is wry.

"But you've a reputation, Dick, and that counts for a lot in a man."

Sharpe nods, acknowledging the point.

"Still. While the choice is mine, I'll tell 'em no."

He nods.

"You're getting smarter."

"I'll remind you that the army was the smart choice, once on a time", Sharpe says dryly.

"Once upon a time, princes were made of frogs and men were fair and good."

"And once upon a time, I was sixteen and a murderer, without many choices", he says quietly. "Things change."

"I'm not passing judgement on your choices, Dick. I'm just reminding you that they might snap up and bite you later on when you least expect it."

"They've been doing that for twenty years."

"Well," and he nods to little Patrick, "at least you've something of the whole mess."

"Aye." He looks at his son, and he can't help a smile. "That I do. I'm a lucky man, Matt."

"I should say."

A smile and a he holds up Patrick.

"But this one looks as if he might need a bed, Dick."

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and-far-away.livejournal.com - 2006-04-28 00:46 (UTC) - Expand

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