milliways_bar | (no subject)

When Beverly went back to work, Price commended her for "getting back on the horse" and every time she thinks about that now she kind of wants to laugh hysterically. It's been -- it's been a weird, weird week.

When the door opens into the bar, she stops short in the doorway, staring. Then, cautiously, she closes and opens it from her side. That works; she steps through and tests it from the Milliways side. Still works, and still opens onto the break room at Quantico. Satisfied that she's not going to be stuck here again, she heads to the counter. As she sits down, Bar delivers a note. And . . . a balloon. The balloon is pretty cute. The note -- not so much.

Beverly reads it twice, then sets it down with a sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose with her good hand. (Her right is still bandaged, though the doctor assures her that her fingers are healing well.)

"Bar, can I have a double Bushmills?"

There are things she can deal with sober, but the combination of dealing with Hannibal Lecter at work, dealing with the situation here, and finding a live bird in a dead woman's chest just. Is not one of those things.

[ooc: Usual warnings about the gruesomeness of Beverly's canon apply, turned up a little because "Su-Zakana" is a hell of an episode. Let me know if you'd rather her work not come up.]

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"He asked me that. Why I'd never tried to escape, and at first I just didn't dare because it was a strange land and I wouldn't get far. But more and more now, I don't want to."

Is there a good way to explain Stockholm syndrome to a guy from the eighth century?

She puts the question aside. But she can't help thinking of Miriam Lass, held captive for two years.

"Why not?"

"Because..." He has to think about it. "Because he stood between me and death, on Lindisfarne, and again on our return, took me from the men who killed my brothers. Because he and Lady Lagertha trust me, and their little daughter loves me. And it's become a kind of home."

Yyyyeah, she's going to stick with traumatic bonding until other evidence presents itself. It shouldn't be her problem -- she has problems enough of her own -- but . . .

Well, curiosity's her besetting weakness.

"Not exactly a home you chose."

"No", he agrees. "But sometimes, there is nothing to be done but make the best of it."

And it was so very easy to do that.

She huffs out a breath, and can't help a glance at her right hand.

"That's very pragmatic."

He follows her eyes, and frowns at what he sees.

"I'm a peasant. It's in the blood."

"What, pragmatism?"

"Yes, or... taking what comes. My parents had to send one of us away, I chose for it to be me, to the monastery to learn and eventually take the cowl, and it suited me well, and now... again, I adapt to a change."

"Well, it's definitely a useful skill," she says, which is the most neutral thing she can think of. "Adapt or die."

. . . Less neutral. Whoops. Oh well.

"And so the others did", he says quietly. "One refused to eat, and died before we even finished the crossing. The remainder were killed."

"Jeez," she murmurs.

"I'm -- sorry to hear that."

"We were separated. And I can only think they... resisted more than I did, in some way, would not make themselves useful."

Beverly nods, filing that away, but stays silent.

It's as good as a prompt, now he's got started.

"It took me a long time to accept that I'm alive because it was intended so. Even if I don't understand why I should be chosen for it."

"Intended by . . .?"

"By God", he says simply. "Or their gods, I don't know any more. I was placed in Ragnar Lothbrok's path, or he in mine."

Beverly's eyebrows arch.

"The gods are paying very close attention, huh."

"Sometimes they do. I don't speak of favourites, but I do believe He has a plan for us, and sometimes may pay attention to a particular person. Ragnar Lothbrok is... one of those people who changes things."

Edited 2014-12-11 00:34 (UTC)

"Aren't we all?"

"In our own small ways, perhaps. But he can't be much past thirty, if that, and already an Earl."

"Sounds like a go-getter," Beverly says, rather dry.

Who goes and gets nice young men from Northumbria to be household servants.

The tone gets a worried sidelong look.

"...I don't know what that means, but probably yes."

"It means someone ambitious -- someone who goes out and gets what they want, you know?"

"Oh. Yes." He nods. "I think what he really wanted was for his family to be safe but... they never could be while the old Earl lived."

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