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No True Pair Sept. 3 - Bertie & Fritz
September Three - Bertie & Fritz with the title "Pay It Forward"
This always goes without saying, but please feel free to tell me if anything sounds extremely wrong; Bertie's dialogue is hard mode for me /o\ ...
Fritz was sitting quietly on a stone wall, his knees tucked up under his chin, when Bertie found him.
They were outbound on their journey from London to Sakhalin. Bad weather and some necessary maintenance on the 'plane had grounded them overnight somewhere on the Iran-to-Afghanistan plateau. Fritz's impatience had been evident in his growing quiet and sullenness, and finally he had vanished. Bertie found him hunched in his threadbare wool coat, sitting on a wall overlooking a goat pen. A pebbled mountainside sloped away below until it was lost in mist.
"Won't do any good for your uncle if you catch your death out here, you know," Bertie said, sitting beside him. "There's a decent supper laid on in the inn, some kind of pottage with flat bread, smells wonderful though I didn't catch the name, I'm afraid, and probably couldn't pronounce it if I had."
Fritz's only reaction was to hunch deeper into his coat. Bertie polished specks of rain off his monocle.
Finally Fritz said, "I'm not going to run away or—or fall off a cliff, or whatever it is that you're thinking. I won't slow us down tomorrow."
"I'm thinking nothing of the jolly sort, m'boy," Bertie said mildly. "Just didn't like to see you sitting out here alone, that's all."
"Did Biggles send you?" Fritz asked.
"No. I'm here on my own account. I suppose you could call it," Bertie said thoughtfully, "paying it forward, if you take my meaning."
Fritz turned to look at him straight on, the clear blue eyes looking old in his pale young face. Bertie wondered if Biggles had noticed that the boy did look very like his uncle in a certain light.
"I don't think I do. What is that?" Fritz asked. "Paying it forward?"
"Oh—it's a saying we English have, s'pose you could say. There was a time, laddie, when I was as alone as you are out here. And those men in there, they changed that for me."
He didn't often speak of it. Wouldn't have, he suspected, if any of the others could hear.
Fritz's curiosity was fully aroused now. "Aren't you a—a lord, something like that? I heard one of the others call you—"
"Mmm, yes, there's a certain modicum of titles in the family, peer of the realm, all that nonsense hanging up there in the branches of the old apple tree. It doesn't mean much," Bertie said quietly, "as it turns out, when it comes to making friends. Bit of the opposite, actually. Always been a right ass at it. If people were a school subject, I jolly well failed it."
"You don't seem, ah ..."
"If I don't, it's because of them," Bertie said. "Because when I had no one on my side, they were there anyhow. And a poor friend I'd be if I didn't roll the barrel someone else's way. So what do you say, pip pip, up you go, come inside and have a go at the old feed bag, what?"
By now Fritz was smiling, faint and awkward, but sincere. "I'm afraid I didn't understand that last part," he admitted. "My English could use some work."
"He's not speaking English, he's speaking posh," Algy announced from behind them. He was tucked under an umbrella and looked damp and annoyed. "We can't understand him half the time either. I think he likes it that way. I'm here to tell you that Biggles is doing head counts in there, you can see him totting us up in his head and coming up short, and he's about ten seconds from going full sheepdog. I'm here to point out that you can come in on your own or have Biggles wander past sixteen times just happening to go on errands to the hangar until you give up and come in to make it stop."
"I guess I am hungry, actually," Fritz admitted with a smile.
Algy offered the umbrella to Fritz, who took it and jumped off the wall with a youthful grace that Bertie couldn't help but envy. His own joints were less than fully cooperative after sitting so long in the damp. As he unkinked himself from his seated position, Algy offered him a hand, accompanied by a rueful smile, and Bertie took it.
Ficlet master list in this post
This always goes without saying, but please feel free to tell me if anything sounds extremely wrong; Bertie's dialogue is hard mode for me /o\ ...
Fritz was sitting quietly on a stone wall, his knees tucked up under his chin, when Bertie found him.
They were outbound on their journey from London to Sakhalin. Bad weather and some necessary maintenance on the 'plane had grounded them overnight somewhere on the Iran-to-Afghanistan plateau. Fritz's impatience had been evident in his growing quiet and sullenness, and finally he had vanished. Bertie found him hunched in his threadbare wool coat, sitting on a wall overlooking a goat pen. A pebbled mountainside sloped away below until it was lost in mist.
"Won't do any good for your uncle if you catch your death out here, you know," Bertie said, sitting beside him. "There's a decent supper laid on in the inn, some kind of pottage with flat bread, smells wonderful though I didn't catch the name, I'm afraid, and probably couldn't pronounce it if I had."
Fritz's only reaction was to hunch deeper into his coat. Bertie polished specks of rain off his monocle.
Finally Fritz said, "I'm not going to run away or—or fall off a cliff, or whatever it is that you're thinking. I won't slow us down tomorrow."
"I'm thinking nothing of the jolly sort, m'boy," Bertie said mildly. "Just didn't like to see you sitting out here alone, that's all."
"Did Biggles send you?" Fritz asked.
"No. I'm here on my own account. I suppose you could call it," Bertie said thoughtfully, "paying it forward, if you take my meaning."
Fritz turned to look at him straight on, the clear blue eyes looking old in his pale young face. Bertie wondered if Biggles had noticed that the boy did look very like his uncle in a certain light.
"I don't think I do. What is that?" Fritz asked. "Paying it forward?"
"Oh—it's a saying we English have, s'pose you could say. There was a time, laddie, when I was as alone as you are out here. And those men in there, they changed that for me."
He didn't often speak of it. Wouldn't have, he suspected, if any of the others could hear.
Fritz's curiosity was fully aroused now. "Aren't you a—a lord, something like that? I heard one of the others call you—"
"Mmm, yes, there's a certain modicum of titles in the family, peer of the realm, all that nonsense hanging up there in the branches of the old apple tree. It doesn't mean much," Bertie said quietly, "as it turns out, when it comes to making friends. Bit of the opposite, actually. Always been a right ass at it. If people were a school subject, I jolly well failed it."
"You don't seem, ah ..."
"If I don't, it's because of them," Bertie said. "Because when I had no one on my side, they were there anyhow. And a poor friend I'd be if I didn't roll the barrel someone else's way. So what do you say, pip pip, up you go, come inside and have a go at the old feed bag, what?"
By now Fritz was smiling, faint and awkward, but sincere. "I'm afraid I didn't understand that last part," he admitted. "My English could use some work."
"He's not speaking English, he's speaking posh," Algy announced from behind them. He was tucked under an umbrella and looked damp and annoyed. "We can't understand him half the time either. I think he likes it that way. I'm here to tell you that Biggles is doing head counts in there, you can see him totting us up in his head and coming up short, and he's about ten seconds from going full sheepdog. I'm here to point out that you can come in on your own or have Biggles wander past sixteen times just happening to go on errands to the hangar until you give up and come in to make it stop."
"I guess I am hungry, actually," Fritz admitted with a smile.
Algy offered the umbrella to Fritz, who took it and jumped off the wall with a youthful grace that Bertie couldn't help but envy. His own joints were less than fully cooperative after sitting so long in the damp. As he unkinked himself from his seated position, Algy offered him a hand, accompanied by a rueful smile, and Bertie took it.
Ficlet master list in this post
no subject
I love him and I love this. Poor miserable Fritz sitting there brooding over what they might find, I love your description of him with his old eyes in a young face, and Bertie noting how much he resembles his uncle, and I love Bertie trying to find a way to make him feel better, and the details of Bertie's backstory and how lonely he felt before joining with the others. Also the description of Biggles doing his sheepdog impression is hilarious and spot-on, of course he won't let any of his flock wander off without keeping an eye on them. Adorable!
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Love this image.Also that Bertie and Algy are ahead of Biggles
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Oh, this is so sweet! I especially love that last line, what a perfect casual bit of evidence of everything Bertie has just said. <3