Fic: Jeeves and the Final Word
Title: Jeeves and the Final Word
Author: Emerald
Rating: G
Warning: Character death.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Wodehouse. I make no profit from this story.
Beta:
msliz4857 Thank you very much! Your work is marvelous!
Summary: Bertie's death
Bertram Wooster watched as his family bustled around the kitchen. A huge cake with the number seventy-eight blazed across it was placed in front of him, and he tried not to frown. It wouldn't do to have the little party spoiled by revealing his innermost thoughts.
The number on the cake seemed to taunt him, reminding him that he had survived another year without Jeeves. His friends and family were singing the birthday song and wishing him many more years, and he held in the sigh that threatened to burst from his lungs. The thought of another three hundred and sixty-five days without Jeeves seemed almost unbearable.
Another year to roam through the rooms of his apartment as lonely as… he tried to remember the phrase. As lonely as a loon? No, that was not it. As lonely as what? “Jeeves,” he started to call, but once more the ache reminded him of his loss. As crazy as a loon, perhaps the phrase was. No doubt many people thought he was. Calling for Jeeves after the man had died. Talking to himself and searching for words that only his man could supply. Waiting for a sentence to be finished only to realise anew that one who had always done so was gone. Yes, he loved his relatives very much, but they did not understand him as Jeeves had. Jeeves had taken his master’s heart with him when he died.
An uncomfortable pressure seized Bertie’s chest. Fingers seemed to wrap around his heart and squeeze. The pain raced outward to his shoulders and neck. He said nothing, poking at his cake with a fork.
Bertie recognised the symptoms. He had felt them the day he had buried Jeeves. On that day, he made the error of telling Algernon Little, Bingo’s son, and found himself rushed to the local hospital. It had been a mistake to say anything; it would have been far better then to join Jeeves. It was not a mistake he intended to repeat.
A sense of light-headedness pervaded Bertie’s senses and then, as if a curtain fell, darkness overcame him as he temporarily lost consciousness. For a moment, he knew nothing.
Then dimly to his ears came cries from his loved ones. “He’s had another heart attack!” “Call for an ambulance!” “Where is his medicine?”
Suddenly, Bertie found himself standing in a small field enveloped in white mist. A figure approached him through the haze; it was Jeeves, looking as young as on the day Bertie first beheld him.
“Jeeves!” Bertie cried, happiness overwhelming him. “I say, Jeeves, you’re young again!”
“Indeed, sir. And so are you.”
Bertie felt his face and glanced at his hands. Once wrinkled and old, now the skin was as firm as when he was twenty. “I say!”
But none of that was really important. It was but the work of a moment, and he was once more enclosed in Jeeves’s strong arms. “I knew you’d come for me, Jeeves! I knew you wouldn’t let me face death alone!”
From a distance, Bertie heard the panicked cries of his family and fear gripped him. He wrapped his arms around Jeeves’s neck and buried his head against his man’s shoulders. “Don’t let them take me back Jeeves! I want to stay with you! Don’t let them take me back!”
Jeeves’s fingers rustled through his hair. “I believe the ambulance will arrive too late to be of aid, sir.” Soft lips brushed over Bertie’s face, and Jeeves’s beloved voice whispered in his ear, “We shall never be parted again. But I must insist that you do not wear purple socks, sir.”
Bertie laughed. How comforting it was to know that some things would never change! “Then let us go, Jeeves!”
Holding hands, they stepped toward the door that appeared in the mist. Far, far off, Bertie could discern the mournful cry of an ambulance. Yet even as he clasped Jeeves’s hand tightly, all sounds from elsewhere faded and were no more. Still he asked, “Jeeves, old thing, their efforts will be bootless, what?”
A genuine smile brightened Jeeves’s face as he answered, “Indeed, sir.”
The end.
Author: Emerald
Rating: G
Warning: Character death.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Wodehouse. I make no profit from this story.
Beta:
msliz4857 Thank you very much! Your work is marvelous!
Summary: Bertie's death
Bertram Wooster watched as his family bustled around the kitchen. A huge cake with the number seventy-eight blazed across it was placed in front of him, and he tried not to frown. It wouldn't do to have the little party spoiled by revealing his innermost thoughts.
The number on the cake seemed to taunt him, reminding him that he had survived another year without Jeeves. His friends and family were singing the birthday song and wishing him many more years, and he held in the sigh that threatened to burst from his lungs. The thought of another three hundred and sixty-five days without Jeeves seemed almost unbearable.
Another year to roam through the rooms of his apartment as lonely as… he tried to remember the phrase. As lonely as a loon? No, that was not it. As lonely as what? “Jeeves,” he started to call, but once more the ache reminded him of his loss. As crazy as a loon, perhaps the phrase was. No doubt many people thought he was. Calling for Jeeves after the man had died. Talking to himself and searching for words that only his man could supply. Waiting for a sentence to be finished only to realise anew that one who had always done so was gone. Yes, he loved his relatives very much, but they did not understand him as Jeeves had. Jeeves had taken his master’s heart with him when he died.
An uncomfortable pressure seized Bertie’s chest. Fingers seemed to wrap around his heart and squeeze. The pain raced outward to his shoulders and neck. He said nothing, poking at his cake with a fork.
Bertie recognised the symptoms. He had felt them the day he had buried Jeeves. On that day, he made the error of telling Algernon Little, Bingo’s son, and found himself rushed to the local hospital. It had been a mistake to say anything; it would have been far better then to join Jeeves. It was not a mistake he intended to repeat.
A sense of light-headedness pervaded Bertie’s senses and then, as if a curtain fell, darkness overcame him as he temporarily lost consciousness. For a moment, he knew nothing.
Then dimly to his ears came cries from his loved ones. “He’s had another heart attack!” “Call for an ambulance!” “Where is his medicine?”
Suddenly, Bertie found himself standing in a small field enveloped in white mist. A figure approached him through the haze; it was Jeeves, looking as young as on the day Bertie first beheld him.
“Jeeves!” Bertie cried, happiness overwhelming him. “I say, Jeeves, you’re young again!”
“Indeed, sir. And so are you.”
Bertie felt his face and glanced at his hands. Once wrinkled and old, now the skin was as firm as when he was twenty. “I say!”
But none of that was really important. It was but the work of a moment, and he was once more enclosed in Jeeves’s strong arms. “I knew you’d come for me, Jeeves! I knew you wouldn’t let me face death alone!”
From a distance, Bertie heard the panicked cries of his family and fear gripped him. He wrapped his arms around Jeeves’s neck and buried his head against his man’s shoulders. “Don’t let them take me back Jeeves! I want to stay with you! Don’t let them take me back!”
Jeeves’s fingers rustled through his hair. “I believe the ambulance will arrive too late to be of aid, sir.” Soft lips brushed over Bertie’s face, and Jeeves’s beloved voice whispered in his ear, “We shall never be parted again. But I must insist that you do not wear purple socks, sir.”
Bertie laughed. How comforting it was to know that some things would never change! “Then let us go, Jeeves!”
Holding hands, they stepped toward the door that appeared in the mist. Far, far off, Bertie could discern the mournful cry of an ambulance. Yet even as he clasped Jeeves’s hand tightly, all sounds from elsewhere faded and were no more. Still he asked, “Jeeves, old thing, their efforts will be bootless, what?”
A genuine smile brightened Jeeves’s face as he answered, “Indeed, sir.”
The end.