What was and what is

Part 8

Year 2716½.

Arthur let go of a harsh laughter as he finally got his body forced up in an upright position. It had only been minutes, but it felt like years had passed while he had been swaying back and forth between passing out and not. His stomach was complaining, forcing bitter liquid up his throat, and the rocking ship definitely wasn’t helping.

‘I have to get out of here.’ A hope easy to think, harder to comply with. He supported his fragile, shaking body by leaning against the wall while he tried to think of a way out.

What would he had done in his pirate-days? ‘First of all I wouldn’t have gotten caught.’ He chuckled and blamed himself in the same second. Then chuckled again. The situation was so absurd he could hardly take it seriously, and though his whole body was aching, all he could think of was getting a warm cup of tea and watch the news. What was the time anyway? What was the date? What were the other nations during right now? If he was to base his conclusion on the short conversation he had just had with Alfred, they probably were having their troubles at the moment. Somewhere in his heart that comforted him a little.

The captain hadn’t exactly sounded merciful, and as Arthur didn’t feel like hanging around to see whether or not he was right, he ignored the fact that his legs had started going numb, and stumbled his way towards the door. Slowly, but he got there, and he almost allowed a smile to cross his lips as his hands closed around the doorknob.

Then someone from the other side wrested it down and shoved the door open, taking Arthur unprepared, and he fell backwards, whimpering as his back made contact with the floor. He had been so concentrated on getting to the door that he hadn’t heard the person approaching it, and as he looked up, he regretted not having been more aware.

In front of him was the captain, pistol in his hand, lips forced into a tense smile. Arthur yelped and tried to wriggle backwards, but the man leaned down and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, ripping him up to stand on his shaking legs.

“I know who you are,” the captain sneered, showing teeth as he did so. Arthur blinked with the eyes. For the first time he was looking directly at the man’s face without tears in his eyes to blur his vision, and without really thinking, he bawled:

“Me!” He was thrown back down onto the floor. The captain kneeled beside him as he pressed the pistol to his forehead. His face was wrinkles of anger.

“What did you say?” Arthur sank a mouthful of spit.

“M-me…” he whispered, more to assure himself than to answer the man’s question. “You’re… me! From very long ago, but that face.. Those scars-” Arthur reached up his left hand to caress the scar crossing the man’s nose and right cheek, but the captain quickly got back onto his feet, shakily waving the gun in front of him.

“Shut up!” he shouted, “don’t think you can fool me anymore!” He bit down on his lower lip, eyes focused on Arthur’s face, making sure not to miss any emotion crossing those eyes. “Making me think you’re a magician, hah! Oh, but you made a mistake as you let go of your servants. We’ve shot them! You hear me? We’ve shot all of them!” He smirked, held a pause as if he expected Arthur to comment. Arthur raised his brows in confusion. His servants?

“What… servants?”

“I told you to stop acting!” The captain’s smile fell. “I know you’re a devil, if not the Devil. And you thought you could fool me by sending your men from the sky. But I did not fall for that. Heaven’s angels doesn’t wear the colour of fire.”

“Fire?”

“Orange jackets or whatever, don’t interrupt me!” The man spat at Arthur. “You chose the wrong man to mess with. And now, it’s a goodbye to evil in this world.” He smirked as his finger slowly caressed the trigger of the pistol. “Bye, bye, illusionist.”

“No!” Arthur’s eyes widened as the trigger was pulled, and he closed his eyes, not wanting to see or hear or believe what was going to happen.

But he felt nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Slowly, he dared take a peek, and there, just in front of him, the projectile was floating in the air. As he raised his gaze to the captain, the man was starring at him with wide eyes.

“What the-?” In the same second Arthur felt his back rip open, and the sound of his shirt splitting made him throw a worried look over the shoulder. There, from underneath his shoulder plates, wings were growing, and they spread out, feathers fluttering everywhere as they embraced him like a woman’s caring arms, shoving the projectile back with a force that made it go straight through the door just next to the captain’s head. The man let go of a yelp and fell to his knees, eyes filling up with years, and he shook his head. “No.. you’re not.. You… can’t…”

Arthur drew in air, leaned forward and carefully placed his arms at he man’s shoulders. He moved a little forwards, hesitated, then slowly smiled: “Would you believe me if I told you that I’m just as surprised as you are?”

“Please, don’t kill me.” Arthur blinked with the eyes.

“What?”

“I… I had no idea you’re an angel.. I’d never pointed my pistol at you if-”

“It’s okay.” The man looked surprised. Arthur knew how he felt. He was taken by surprise himself. Though he was a calm man, he hardly ever was this relaxed, but he blamed his change into the Britannia Angel for that. “It’s okay,” Arthur repeated, and his eyes fell upon the hole the projectile had made. And then he suddenly realised; it really was okay. He hadn’t been shot. He was still alive. And he let go of a relieved, short laughter, smiled brightly at the man, before he fell forwards into his arm in an immediately blackout.