(closed RP for Henry Winter and Stephen Maturin)

[estebanmd]

Stephen had rather wanted to talk with Henry Winter at length, if for no other reason than to cement his hopeful deduction that Henry's recent wedding had well and truly laid to rest the remnants of old animosity concerning the woman who was now Mrs. Winter. Unfortunately, there had simply been no time for conversation. Stephen had brought little

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[estebanmd]

Stephen did not have the latitude to comment on bizarre wedding presents, or would not have had such latitude by Camilla's reckoning in any event. He personally had thought an authentic Welsh lovespoon to be something that would interest the Winters, since the tradition had such folkloric significance. Some of the sailors aboard Navy ships used to whittle those spoons, which was how Stephen had learned of them himself.

Having no notion that his own present had not pleased Camilla, he indulged in a brief mental picture prompted by Henry's words, the phrasing conjuring a Camilla with brows furrowed and arms folded, ordering the unfortunate Aztec god out of the castle in no uncertain terms. It made Stephen smile, faintly and wryly.

The smile turned to an outright grin when his thoughts then turned to conjecture how Diana might have reacted to such a monstrosity being housed indoors. It had been bad enough when Stephen had tried to bring skeletons and specimens into the house on Half Moon Street. In the end he'd simply kept his old rooms at the Grapes.

"I do not know much about the pagan customs of the pre-Columbian peoples," he said. "I do know a little about women's notions of what belongs indoors and what out of doors. The relocation of Xipe Totec is no doubt the better part of valor."

[h_m_winter]

Henry, who knew full well where the spoon had come from (as well as Camilla's reaction to it), couldn't help but grin himself. "She was very...definite about it," he said. "In the end I was outnumbered, and so had to part with Xipe Totec's company."

He didn't at all mind putting the thing in the garden; it was only Camilla's reaction that had led him to keep the statue inside as long as he had. "Personally, I think it's fascinating, even if it is hideous. As you say, though, a woman's taste in decor is as good as law." Henry had a decent appreciation for nice things, most of which had been broadened and developed by Camilla, but that didn't mean his taste was perfect. Far from it, given his current situation.

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Stephen raised an eyebrow, amused. "You were outnumbered?" Camilla was only one person, after all.

[h_m_winter]

"Susan backed her up on it." No point in being vague, really. "Though I think she saw at least a little humor in it, too. She's met Dax, after all." Henry didn't really know the circumstances of that meeting, but anyone with any experience with Dax could almost certainly find it amusing. She was just so very earnest about everything (including driving, even if it was a truly frightening thing).

[estebanmd]

Ah. Stephen restrained the impulse to ask how Susan was, whether she looked well, et cetera. Instead he said amiably, "I too have met Dax: she and I share a sort of informal guardianship over a child, the child I brought to your wedding in fact, young Miss Casson. It is an unusual and entirely nonbinding arrangement. The two of them have some startling notions of wedding etiquette, and I believe Miss Casson now has an idea that when she has grown up she would like to have a more violent wedding, with fencing or some such."

He walked along with Henry and the wheelbarrow-borne Xipe Totec, thinking of several things he would like to say. The foremost of them he could only pose as a question, because it was one. "I should have liked to speak with you more at the reception, if not for the aforementioned entanglements." Discussing swordplay with an alien professor and a little girl could be an exacting and time-consuming pastime. "I should have liked to speak with Camilla as well, of course; but I should have liked to speak with you apart from her. I never did quite understand, through our brief correspondence before the wedding proper, how you brought all this about -- how you persuaded her to undertake matrimony."

[h_m_winter]

Henry had seen the little girl with Stephen--had also seen them enjoying the wedding cakes. Henry had been a vastly unusual child, but he suspected many children would quite like having parents like that. He himself had been very distant from his mother, but then again he'd been distant from everyone until he met Camilla.

He actually laughed. "Fencing? Let me guess, she got the idea from Dax, didn't she?" Dax had been quite enthusiastic about trying to persuade him that what he and Camilla really needed was a Klingon wedding.

The grass was somewhat soupy, sucking at the wheelbarrow's tire, and he had a tricky moment of navigating it through a divot in the lawn. "That is something I still haven't fully fathomed myself, honestly," he said. "There is a logical progression, but logic doesn't cover everything." He thought a moment. "In a way, I owe it in at least some measure to a serial-killing demon Camilla met in the Sorting Room. Somehow, over the course of their conversation, she came to the conclusion that she wasn't as averse to the idea of marriage as we had all once been. He really is an odd man--how on earth he of all people gave her the idea, I still don't understand. He came to the wedding, actually, though I don't know if you met him--tall man, smirks a great deal. I understand he was the one who told Susan her hair had turned purple, an occurrence I'm convinced Camilla had something to do with."

He laughed again, realizing he was rambling, as he was sometimes wont to do. "That started it, at any rate. Actually, he nudged things along in another sense, too--Camilla was briefly married during the tent village fiasco, and the wedding ring she'd been given had been charmed to always return. Susan loaned Camilla a ring to take its place, and Ryder opined that eventually it was going to have to be replaced, whenever Camilla gave the ring back." Carefully he avoided another puddle. "I still think he and Susan were in on it together, as...odd...as she was at the time. They were force-married at the time, too, and I think that Ryder at least was terribly bored."

[estebanmd]

"Of course she got the idea from Dax," Stephen said with some asperity. "I should never have given her such an idea. For bloodthirstiness, aliens from the future make Napoleon's armies seem very lambs."

Tramping through the muddy grass with no care for shoes or trouser-cuffs, he listened most attentively to Henry's somewhat disjointed account of how the marriage came about:

A serial-killing demon had softened Camilla's attitude toward marriage.
Camilla had caused Susan's hair to turn purple.
Camilla had been married to someone by the Hat.
Susan had been married to the serial-killing demon by the Hat.
Camilla had been forced to wear an enchanted wedding ring which Susan had replaced and which the serial-killing demon had suggested Henry replace.
Susan had been in on something with the serial-killing demon, perhaps regarding the wedding ring.

"I had been married to a very nice nurse during that tent village mess. I still think of her fondly," Stephen mused, as a brief aside. In fact he had very nearly fought a duel for Carla's honor! "I must say I should not feel at all sanguine about owing any good fortune to a serial-killing demon."

He found that he did not, however, have any misgivings -- not even the vaguest hint of jealousy, nor worry -- about Susan having been married to said serial-killing demon. He would have been more worried even about Camilla.

"What you are telling me," he said, after a moment's thought, "is not precisely how Camilla was induced to accept the notion of marrying you, but how circumstances were manipulated by various parties to the effect that a proposal could be at all possible. The question remains as to how that proposal met with real success. I may say, by way of explaining why I find this such a remarkable event, that I myself spent a number of years pursuing a woman very like her in some respects, with several proposals issued, some rejected outright, some accepted provisionally and later deferred; and then, when I had at last secured the lady's hand in civil union, it remained that she should then flee to another country entirely, and from there I eventually brought her home whereupon we were married a second time. God rest her soul," he added, more to himself than to Henry, with a perfunctory sign of the cross. Resuming in a normal conversational tone: "Thus it seems to me extraordinary, not to say improbable, that you have had such an easy time of it, and with such celerity as to make winged Hermes blush."

[h_m_winter]

...Listening to Stephen's account of his own marriage made Henry suddenly feel he'd gotten off very lightly indeed. His relationship with Camilla had hardly been a tranquil one, at times, but at least she'd never run away to another country.

"I have to admit, compared to you, I've had very little difficulty," he said, shaking his head. "Though I would not say bringing it about was an easy thing. As to the celerity--well, I honestly didn't expect Camilla to take me at my word, when I suggested the date. Then again, I really should have known better." There was actually a hint of fondness in Henry's voice, which was little short of amazing--he who so very rarely betrayed anything of the sort to an outside party. "Camilla and I...there is no really coherent way to explain it all, since I will admit it's not something I can make clear sense of even to myself, at times." There was also a very great deal he could never say aloud, to anyone, about all that had gone on at Hampden, and especially not anything about Charles.

"I'm not by nature a social man," he said, stating the patently obvious, "and I'm not someone who was really capable of being at all close with anyone, until I met her. We were at school together--long ago, now, though not so very long for me, all things considered. Back then I don't think she would have ever contemplated the idea of marriage," though he had, albeit for different reasons, "but now that we're here, that we've been here...things changed. I died, and I came back, and Camilla traveled all the way here to attempt to bring me back. I can't really speak of it, but how and why I died changed things as well, even when I had first returned, and since we've been here we've both learned a great deal." About themselves, and about each other, and in Henry's case at least about life in general. It had taken some terrible experiences to teach him some of the things he knew now, but then that was part of growing up.

He recalled his first serious thoughts about marriage, and the talks he'd had with Francis and Susan. On the surface it all did sound straightforward--it was only when applied to himself and Camilla as people that it became very complicated. "I spoke to a couple of friends of mine, before I actually asked her, and what both said boils down to 'You know you're going to ask anyway, so just do it and have done with it'. In the end, they were right." For perhaps the only time in his life, Henry had been nervous--no, to be honest, he'd been downright scared. Only Camilla could do that to him.

[estebanmd]

Henry did not have to say he had been nervous. Stephen remembered well enough that heart-sinking, tongue-tied feeling: standing with proverbial hat in hand, eyes averted, on the brink of an irrevocable utterance, desperately afraid it might shatter everything good in the world. That Henry had felt some measure of trepidation could be inferred simply by the admission he had discussed the decision with other people before asking Camilla herself.

Nor did Henry have to betray any emotion through word or expression; Stephen had seen evidence of that at another time, in another place, the tight furious set of Henry's jaw when he'd confronted Stephen over a certain indiscretion of Camilla's. (Stephen still wondered how Camilla had managed to erase whatever traces of displeasure the incident had left, but he was not about to ask. Ever.)

It never occurred to Stephen to wonder why Henry might have wanted to marry Camilla in the first place. To Stephen, a product of his time, transitory dalliances were all well and good, but marriage was the logical conclusion when one truly loved a woman. It meant financial security for her, and a measure of social acceptance and accommodation for the relationship, acceptance and accommodation only achievable by means of that formality. More, it was a matter of public record and of public respect.

A woman like Jack's wife Sophie would, quite reasonably, desire marriage as much as her male counterpart would wish it, for the same benefits accrued to both. It was the contrary sort of woman -- like Diana, like Camilla -- that dodged it, or held it out as a carrot above the head of a poor laboring mule, or reviled it as a loss of freedom.

"You took your friends' advice, then, and it proved sound; she proved receptive, mirabile dictu. So the ground was tilled in advance, as it were, and no persuasion necessary on your part, no argument or pleading, no interminable waiting for answer?"

[h_m_winter]

Henry considered this, and very nearly snorted. No, there had been no argument or pleading, though the persuasion had been, in a sense (even if it had only been because I want you to). "Interminable waiting for an answer?" he echoed. "Interminable, no; waiting, yes. She asked for time to consider, so I went to America with Dax and Dr. Silvey--I'm not sure if you've met her--in search of the magical lieopleurodon. It wasn't until I came home that she said yes." That had been one of the most anxious times of his entire life, even distracted as he had been by random bat-attacks and Dax's driving.

"It wasn't unexpected, though--I knew there was a very good chance she'd ask for time, and that perhaps she'd put off her answer for months. If anything, I was surprised at how relatively quickly she gave me an answer."

He shook his head. "Francis thought I was insane for wanting to be married to begin with--Francis is a friend of mine, whose own marriage was not at all a happy thing--" mainly because not only was Francis gay, his wife was a vapid imbecile of a woman "--and Susan had no idea why Camilla would say no, or why the possibility of her refusal was so terrible. Neither of them know Camilla as well as I do--not even Francis, who went to school with us. Even he couldn't really understand just what a monumental thing I was asking of her--I knew all along that it wasn't simply a matter of loving her, or her loving me. Marriage isn't something either of us would ever dream of taking lightly." Which made Camilla's acceptance all the more meaningful, when she finally gave it.

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Now it was Stephen who almost snorted. "I am tolerably well-acquainted with Dr Silvey, yes," he allowed. "She had been a close friend of my erstwhile brother-in-law, now popcorn, God rest his soul," and again he crossed himself in that perfunctory way.

Come to think of it, there were ways in which Henry reminded Stephen a little of Simon Tam, even if only superficially: tall, dark, and deceptively quiet.

"I assume she has spoken with our colleague Grant on the matter of this liopleurodon. Have you met him? -- Doctor Grant, our professor of Care of Magical Creatures, a reasonably well-known paleontologist in the outside world before his arrival here. I understand he has done some rather controversial work on dinosaurs and related reptiles, and I believe he has a current interest in dragons." It was not so much a tangent as a related topic. Dragons, dinosaurs, and women had some things in common. They were unpredictable and perilous; also, sometimes, elusive.

"In any event, it sounds as though the demands of Dr Silvey's research came at a fortuitous time." Yet Diana would have waxed exceeding wroth at the notion of Stephen's gallivanting off to another continent with marriageable women not herself, even if she herself wanted nothing to do with him at the time. Stephen wondered why this had not been a problem for Henry with Camilla. "If the lady did not object to the excursion, which it sounds as though she must not have done?"

[h_m_winter]

Henry shook his head. "I haven't," he said. "Though once I've settled back down to research, I ought to. From what I understand, I'm hardly the only auxiliary aid Dr. Silvey and Professor Dax have acquired."

He sighed, steering the wheelbarrow down a slight incline. "It really was fortuitous timing," he said. "Camilla offered no objection out loud--honestly, I think she might have been as glad of my absence as I was, though she can be so inscrutable that I can't know for sure. She needed time to think uninterrupted, which would have been difficult if I'd remained, seeing as we live together, and I needed something to distract myself with while I waited for her reply." He paused, and smiled a dry smile. "Though even yet Camilla doesn't believe the reason for our trip--I think she's convinced we were all engaged in some kind of dangerous espionage, and that bats and chocolate factories are code-words for something more interesting. I've given up trying to disabuse her of the notion."

He didn't feel the need to mention that even his absence had been in some measure calculated--that he'd reasoned his lack of presence might make Camilla think a bit harder about it all. Some things did not need to be said aloud; Henry was reasonable certain Stephen could just infer that one. "When I did return, though, almost the first thing she said was 'yes'. Once Camilla does make up her mind, she makes it up with a vengeance." Camilla was often fickle, mercurial, but when she did set herself to something, she was immovable; it was a kind of strength very few people ever saw or divined in her.

[estebanmd]

The idea of spending time voluntarily being harangued by Chance Silvey struck Stephen as immensely bizarre and therefore amusing. "Were I not desirous to keep my head on my shoulders, and my eardrums unpunctured, I might inquire of Dr Silvey concerning the creature and the study thereof. You must indeed have wished most strongly to be free of Hogwarts for a time, to have volunteered for such an expedition."

Henry and Dax Stephen could imagine engaged in 'dangerous espionage', Henry under the guise of the introverted scholar he actually was (much like Stephen himself) and Dax under the guise of eternal intergalactic tourist-cum-researcher. Chance Silvey, not so. She did not seem to Stephen much talented in dissembling, nor inclined toward such. She did, however, seem the kind of woman whom Stephen might have imagined to appeal to Henry, had Stephen never met Camilla. She was gruff, and taciturn, and plain, and not given to wasting time. She was pretty well nigh the opposite of Camilla.

"You are perhaps fortunate to have been suspected of espionage rather than more mundane entanglements," Stephen noted, along this line. The remark was not without a certain ruefulness: Diana had once suspected Stephen of the reverse, suspected him of infidelity when in fact he had only given the appearance thereof due to the exigencies of espionage.

"Sure you must have been surprised, to return to such an abrupt and definite answer?"

[h_m_winter]

Henry raised an eyebrow. He had known nothing of any animosity between Chance and Stephen, though to be sure he'd never before mentioned one to the other. He did have a feeling that Chance was likely capable of making displeasure known in no uncertain terms, however.

"I was," he said. "I had to get away, for at least a little while--if it hadn't been to America, I would have found some other pretext. As to more mundane enanglements--" and he thought he knew quite well what that meant "--I don't think it would ever occur to Camilla. She really is much more likely to suspect me of some kind of top-secret mission." What said mission might be, and what its ultimate purpose, he couldn't even begin to guess.

They'd reached the garden, and Henry gently lowered the wheelbarrow, scouting out the lay of the beds in a search for the best possible place to put his little friend Xipe. "I was very surprised," he said, circling a pruned-back shrub. "Camilla, when confronted with something she doesn't want to deal with, can prevaricate endlessly--I was more than half afraid that she'd do so with me. It wouldn't be an outright refusal; it would just be a refusal to give any answer at all." He had no way of knowing that his question--that he himself--was too important to Camilla to be given such treatment.

[estebanmd]

Stephen stood back, waiting until Henry should find the right spot for the hideous grinning bloodthirsty pagan idol, at which point Stephen would offer assistance in moving it from wheelbarrow to ground.

(Personally, Stephen would not want to eat anything that had been grown in ground sanctified by the Flayed God of the Aztecs.)

He thought of the hundred little ways Diana had found to put off commitment, and the way he had hopelessly followed in her wake despite it all, and felt he understood exactly what Henry had been afraid would happen. "This would be why I wondered how you had secured her consent," he said, speculatively, half-squinting to try picturing Xipe Totec amid the autumn-dying plants.

[h_m_winter]

At last, he found what looked to be the perfect spot--a small mound near one of the now-mutilated shrubberies. "So far as that goes, I have to admit, I have very little idea," he said. "I knew what a huge, huge thing I was asking of her, and part of me is still amazed that she said yes. It had been unspoken between us for ages that nothing could control Camilla but Camilla herself, and that she was answerable to no one." Largely because of Charles, damn him. "For a long while she didn't understand why her actions should have any affect on me, and once she realized that they did, I think her thoughts on the matter began to change."

He tugged aside the sacking base he'd wrapped around the statue, eying it and the ground, wondering how far it would sink once he'd set it down. This was only a brief thaw; the ground was squishy in some places, but frozen beneath, and he didn't really need the statue to wind up locked into the earth next time the temperature dipped. "In the end, she did it because she wanted to," he said. "Which is the only reason she ever does anything. That I should be lucky enough that she should want to remains something of a source of wonder."