Discovered in Temptation
Mar. 20th, 2007 05:49 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
asymphototropic.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
discoveredinaljFinal Landfall. Many thanks to all fellow travelers for excellent company.
Contrary Virtue
Part Thirteen
"Oh. Crikey, mate!" Bodie blushed.
He and RD staggered, gracelessly exhausted, through the pummelling surf. They had abandoned the stolen dinghy in the swell, immediately after Bodie had deemed their current landfall a swimmable distance. Fastening their few salvageable possessions atop a life preserver, they had flung themselves into the breakers. Swimming hard, then walking when they could touch bottom, they finally arrived.
"Should have stayed starkers, wrapped some artistic strands of seaweed across our goolies and stood nonchalantly admiring the scenery. Might have been less conspicuous," Bodie muttered with considerable chagrin.
They had been too tired to struggle back into their wet clothes. And battling the undertow, fully attired, might have proven overwhelming. So now they stood, bedraggled and dripping in a ridiculously matched set of filthy vests and torn army drab boxers.
Forms faded to wraith status, lean and gristly, piebald with overexposed patches burned beyond bloody steak colour, the majority of dead white integument swollen from prolonged immersion in salt water. Hair hung, long unshorn, ragged and tangled. Faces sported three days worth of bristles.
Bruised, scraped, a bit bloody, and utterly wild from scalp to soles, they stood stock still with their toes squirming in the sand.
It was a lovely resort beach, fully populated with stylish sunbathers.
Utterly unabashed, RD smirked and posed before the onlookers' astonished stares.
Maybe that was the right attitude to cop, Bodie reflected, bemused. Most of the witnesses to their arrival seemed at least sympathetic. And some of the young lovelies appeared overtly interested.
Suddenly chuckling, Bodie winked at a particularly luscious redhead.
Peaceful civilisation. Unfamiliar, remote and rather disorienting. Bodie felt slightly dizzy.
"Come on, Mr Universe, let's get us undercover, shall we?"
They thrust their wet feet into their boots and plodded away from their audience.
The boardwalk was lined with small, fashionable shops offering a wide variety of goods and services. They started with a clothier.
Bodie stifled his urge to apologise to the proprietor. Borrowing a bit of RD's brass-balls poise, he strode carelessly down the aisles, choosing garments he hoped might do for size. In their current state of grime, it would be unconscionable to make use of the fitting room.
RD stood, shaking his head, holding a crisp pair of beige trousers before his bony pelvis.
Bodie's sudden smile was pure sunshine. "Eh! Finally have the chance to feed you, haven't I?"
But the culture shock returned full force when they went to make payment for their selections, drawing a motley collection of soggy European bills from a wet wallet, and supplementing this with a few golden Krugerrands from a money belt. Bodie felt the only things lacking to complete the transaction were some pirate doubloons.
The shopkeeper must have agreed. He raised an eyebrow at the two apparitions purporting to be customers. "Had a spot of bother?" he asked in polite tones.
"Ah, nothing to write home about," Bodie shrugged casually. "Is there a nearby shower available anywhere?"
Courteously offering directions, the proprietor seemed torn between concern and amusement.
Their stop at a chemist's for toiletries inspired a more insistent enquiry into their welfare. Bodie quite firmly refused an offer to contact the authorities for assistance. Concluding a pharmacist might be far more experienced in judging their physical condition than a tailor, he forgave the man his well-intentioned interference.
They hastily retreated, clutching their purchases as treasures, and made their unfortunately conspicuous way to the public bath facilities.
They showered and shampooed and shaved. Then, having forgotten to buy a towel, they crammed their damp bodies into uncomfortably starchy new attire. Fearing that some variety of police might arrive at any moment, they fled the facility, disposing of tell tale rags in various rubbish receptacles along the path of their retreat.
They found a smaller, secluded stretch of beach to rest. Here, squinting from the sun glinting painfully off the brilliant azure water, they took turns using newly acquired manicure scissors, trimming rats' nests from each other's long locks, wielding a pocket comb until they grew tired of the effort.
Then they turned to the first aid supplies and doctored each other's multiple hurts.
Bodie reflected philosophically on their upended priorities, tonsorial considerations having replaced medical concerns rather abruptly at the head of their list of essential activities.
Eventually, still feeling they scarcely passed muster, but wouldn't instantly evoke arrest for public indecency or vagrancy, Bodie started them toward the much anticipated mess line.
Food and drink. Sweets and savouries. All manner of munchies. They ate gleefully, chaotically at a dozen different establishments, with ice cream for appetisers and sausages for dessert.
Bodie was dismayed to discover how soon RD ran out of room.
"Fear not. Lots of little noshies, and we'll work up to seven course dinners in no time." His comment reminded him of a similar former assessment he had made about RD's speech ability.
Grabbing both shoulders, he turned his mate to examine him, face to face. Softly smiling, he prodded him. "Well, what do you think of it all now?"
A cheerful grin joined a small, contradictory tear trickling down RD's misshapen cheek. "We made it," he rasped.
"By gawd, we did at that." Bodie bear-hugged him in the middle of the boardwalk.
At a kiosk, they picked up a bright brochure advertising charter flights, because Bodie thought he recognised the rapscallion pilot in the photo. With another damp pound note, he bought the privilege of using the management's phone.
The remembered name resulted in an easy contact. The pilot recalled Bodie as well, and a rendezvous with a sturdy Land Rover soon lead them down a dusty road to a private runway.
Bodie and his pilot chum stood sipping cold drinks and reminiscing, while an ecstatic RD joined a proud mechanic in examining every inch of the Ford Trimotor perched in pristine splendour, ready for takeoff.
The aeroplane was a perfectly restored antique, well worthy of RD's admiration. Bodie chuckled as his mate bounced on the plush red velvet upholstery of a passenger seat.
When RD settled down, Bodie shifted sombrely to look at him. "I've been thinking," he vouchsafed. "It's none too soon to be planning for England. We've still got troubles ahead of us there, I'm mortally certain."
RD frowned and nodded.
"There's this feller I know, name of George Cowley. Runs a smart operation on the domestic side of things. Crime and such matters, you know? You've heard of CI5, of course. But never met their controller?"
RD's face perked with interest as he shook his head. He had never met Cowley, although he knew his reputation.
"I was in on a joint operation with his lads a while back. Impressive organisation. I'm thinking we should stay secret, low profile, until we can contact Cowley. If anyone can set us straight again, it's himself. Yeah, he'll know what to do with us, I reckon." The outrageous thunder of the engines as they started up rendered further speech impossible.
They stole brief last glances of the beautiful land and sea, trying hard to ignore a sense of disloyal abandonment.
Departure stirred relief and regret equally, emotions mingling in an unsettling tangle. Bodie ruffled his mate's curls affectionately. Then he placed his hand on RD's arm, and left it there for mutual comfort.
Even if there was a feeling of loss in Bodie, his sense of gain was immeasurably greater.
In his journey he had stumbled across a find that surpassed all prior remembrance of joy.
RD glanced at him, the brilliance of his gaze a reassurance of more good things, still to come. Bodie contemplated a hazy future.
His path ascended. Of a sudden, Bodie felt strangely certain of the fact.
As if in confirmation, the airship rose with angelic grace. Together, he and RD left the land of their strife.
The gleaming heavens at last beckoned the two weary travellers toward their way home.
Title: Contrary Virtue
Author: asymphototropic [attracted toward the light but never quite arrives]
Slash or Gen: slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: yes [note to archivists: I am away from the Net through the beginning of April, so not available to answer email.]
Disclaimer: No infringement intended, the author does not own "The Professionals"
Contrary Virtue
Part Thirteen
"Oh. Crikey, mate!" Bodie blushed.
He and RD staggered, gracelessly exhausted, through the pummelling surf. They had abandoned the stolen dinghy in the swell, immediately after Bodie had deemed their current landfall a swimmable distance. Fastening their few salvageable possessions atop a life preserver, they had flung themselves into the breakers. Swimming hard, then walking when they could touch bottom, they finally arrived.
"Should have stayed starkers, wrapped some artistic strands of seaweed across our goolies and stood nonchalantly admiring the scenery. Might have been less conspicuous," Bodie muttered with considerable chagrin.
They had been too tired to struggle back into their wet clothes. And battling the undertow, fully attired, might have proven overwhelming. So now they stood, bedraggled and dripping in a ridiculously matched set of filthy vests and torn army drab boxers.
Forms faded to wraith status, lean and gristly, piebald with overexposed patches burned beyond bloody steak colour, the majority of dead white integument swollen from prolonged immersion in salt water. Hair hung, long unshorn, ragged and tangled. Faces sported three days worth of bristles.
Bruised, scraped, a bit bloody, and utterly wild from scalp to soles, they stood stock still with their toes squirming in the sand.
It was a lovely resort beach, fully populated with stylish sunbathers.
Utterly unabashed, RD smirked and posed before the onlookers' astonished stares.
Maybe that was the right attitude to cop, Bodie reflected, bemused. Most of the witnesses to their arrival seemed at least sympathetic. And some of the young lovelies appeared overtly interested.
Suddenly chuckling, Bodie winked at a particularly luscious redhead.
Peaceful civilisation. Unfamiliar, remote and rather disorienting. Bodie felt slightly dizzy.
"Come on, Mr Universe, let's get us undercover, shall we?"
They thrust their wet feet into their boots and plodded away from their audience.
The boardwalk was lined with small, fashionable shops offering a wide variety of goods and services. They started with a clothier.
Bodie stifled his urge to apologise to the proprietor. Borrowing a bit of RD's brass-balls poise, he strode carelessly down the aisles, choosing garments he hoped might do for size. In their current state of grime, it would be unconscionable to make use of the fitting room.
RD stood, shaking his head, holding a crisp pair of beige trousers before his bony pelvis.
Bodie's sudden smile was pure sunshine. "Eh! Finally have the chance to feed you, haven't I?"
But the culture shock returned full force when they went to make payment for their selections, drawing a motley collection of soggy European bills from a wet wallet, and supplementing this with a few golden Krugerrands from a money belt. Bodie felt the only things lacking to complete the transaction were some pirate doubloons.
The shopkeeper must have agreed. He raised an eyebrow at the two apparitions purporting to be customers. "Had a spot of bother?" he asked in polite tones.
"Ah, nothing to write home about," Bodie shrugged casually. "Is there a nearby shower available anywhere?"
Courteously offering directions, the proprietor seemed torn between concern and amusement.
Their stop at a chemist's for toiletries inspired a more insistent enquiry into their welfare. Bodie quite firmly refused an offer to contact the authorities for assistance. Concluding a pharmacist might be far more experienced in judging their physical condition than a tailor, he forgave the man his well-intentioned interference.
They hastily retreated, clutching their purchases as treasures, and made their unfortunately conspicuous way to the public bath facilities.
They showered and shampooed and shaved. Then, having forgotten to buy a towel, they crammed their damp bodies into uncomfortably starchy new attire. Fearing that some variety of police might arrive at any moment, they fled the facility, disposing of tell tale rags in various rubbish receptacles along the path of their retreat.
They found a smaller, secluded stretch of beach to rest. Here, squinting from the sun glinting painfully off the brilliant azure water, they took turns using newly acquired manicure scissors, trimming rats' nests from each other's long locks, wielding a pocket comb until they grew tired of the effort.
Then they turned to the first aid supplies and doctored each other's multiple hurts.
Bodie reflected philosophically on their upended priorities, tonsorial considerations having replaced medical concerns rather abruptly at the head of their list of essential activities.
Eventually, still feeling they scarcely passed muster, but wouldn't instantly evoke arrest for public indecency or vagrancy, Bodie started them toward the much anticipated mess line.
Food and drink. Sweets and savouries. All manner of munchies. They ate gleefully, chaotically at a dozen different establishments, with ice cream for appetisers and sausages for dessert.
Bodie was dismayed to discover how soon RD ran out of room.
"Fear not. Lots of little noshies, and we'll work up to seven course dinners in no time." His comment reminded him of a similar former assessment he had made about RD's speech ability.
Grabbing both shoulders, he turned his mate to examine him, face to face. Softly smiling, he prodded him. "Well, what do you think of it all now?"
A cheerful grin joined a small, contradictory tear trickling down RD's misshapen cheek. "We made it," he rasped.
"By gawd, we did at that." Bodie bear-hugged him in the middle of the boardwalk.
At a kiosk, they picked up a bright brochure advertising charter flights, because Bodie thought he recognised the rapscallion pilot in the photo. With another damp pound note, he bought the privilege of using the management's phone.
The remembered name resulted in an easy contact. The pilot recalled Bodie as well, and a rendezvous with a sturdy Land Rover soon lead them down a dusty road to a private runway.
Bodie and his pilot chum stood sipping cold drinks and reminiscing, while an ecstatic RD joined a proud mechanic in examining every inch of the Ford Trimotor perched in pristine splendour, ready for takeoff.
The aeroplane was a perfectly restored antique, well worthy of RD's admiration. Bodie chuckled as his mate bounced on the plush red velvet upholstery of a passenger seat.
When RD settled down, Bodie shifted sombrely to look at him. "I've been thinking," he vouchsafed. "It's none too soon to be planning for England. We've still got troubles ahead of us there, I'm mortally certain."
RD frowned and nodded.
"There's this feller I know, name of George Cowley. Runs a smart operation on the domestic side of things. Crime and such matters, you know? You've heard of CI5, of course. But never met their controller?"
RD's face perked with interest as he shook his head. He had never met Cowley, although he knew his reputation.
"I was in on a joint operation with his lads a while back. Impressive organisation. I'm thinking we should stay secret, low profile, until we can contact Cowley. If anyone can set us straight again, it's himself. Yeah, he'll know what to do with us, I reckon." The outrageous thunder of the engines as they started up rendered further speech impossible.
They stole brief last glances of the beautiful land and sea, trying hard to ignore a sense of disloyal abandonment.
Departure stirred relief and regret equally, emotions mingling in an unsettling tangle. Bodie ruffled his mate's curls affectionately. Then he placed his hand on RD's arm, and left it there for mutual comfort.
Even if there was a feeling of loss in Bodie, his sense of gain was immeasurably greater.
In his journey he had stumbled across a find that surpassed all prior remembrance of joy.
RD glanced at him, the brilliance of his gaze a reassurance of more good things, still to come. Bodie contemplated a hazy future.
His path ascended. Of a sudden, Bodie felt strangely certain of the fact.
As if in confirmation, the airship rose with angelic grace. Together, he and RD left the land of their strife.
The gleaming heavens at last beckoned the two weary travellers toward their way home.
Title: Contrary Virtue
Author: asymphototropic [attracted toward the light but never quite arrives]
Slash or Gen: slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: yes [note to archivists: I am away from the Net through the beginning of April, so not available to answer email.]
Disclaimer: No infringement intended, the author does not own "The Professionals"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-03-21 09:48 am (UTC)Ah, I never like when a good story ends.
no subject
Date: 2007-03-21 02:13 pm (UTC)Maybe I can think about a "when they got back to London" sequel after a breather. [takes in a deep breath and let's it out ever so slowly. ah.]
Thanks for kind replies.