trans_9 | Counting Up Your Bones [Closed]

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Counting Up Your Bones [Closed]

It's a nice enough service. Granted, there wasn't much of a body left for a wake, just a puddle of bloody goo, but the flowers he gathers from hydroponics, the covered vase he found for the remains of her - it's nice. Nice and quiet.

It's so unlike the last time he was at his sister's funeral. To tell the truth, he doesn't really remember it. He was ten, too preoccupied with the stories in his head to pay attention to the coffin being lowered into the ground. Maybe it was a coping mechanism. Maybe he was just a frightfully callous child. He doesn't like to think back on it enough to figure it out. But that ceremony was filled with people, and today's it's just him.

Punchy sits on a little patch of grass over on Religion Row and lights a candle next to the hole he's digging. There's no priest to bless the ground or offer absolution, but he did manage to find black clothes for the occasion. As he places the vase in the ground and starts to cover it with Earth, he recites, "whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty..."

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The quiet crunch of booted feet against stone is all that can be heard of Jamie's approach as he carefully picks his way over some of the fallen rubble. The worst of it's already started to be cleared away, but with so much damage throughout the ship, it'll take time. For now, at least, it gives Punchy some warning that he's no longer alone.

Jamie doesn't say anything, though. He has no wish to interrupt, even if it's just the two of them here. So he respectfully waits for Punchy to finish the ceremony, only adjusting the strap of the rather sturdy carrying case he has with him so it doesn't slip free from his shoulder in the meantime.

Punchy finishes reciting the psalm and for the life of him, can't quite remember how the rest should go without a priest. He doesn't know how to hallow the ground or conclude the ceremony, so he just finishes covering up the remains and lays the flowers over them.

"Any chance you a priest?" he asks Jamie. Probably not. But it's nice of Jamie to come.

"No," he replies, quietly - and maybe with a touch of regret. Not that he's felt the urge to become one, but to have a priest here, now, would bring some comfort. Given Punchy's determination to defend the Vatican during SHODAN's attack, he gets the idea one would have certainly been welcome.

"I'm a piper," he adds, glancing down at the case at his side for a moment. "A long time ago, I used to be the piper for our clan. Have ye ever heard of one of us before?"

"Heard of you, yeah. I mean, we're Irish, not Scottish, but...close enough, right?" At least Punchy's gotten over the habit of calling himself black and hoping no one will notice. That was an unfortunate quirk of his pre-teen years.

He takes a deep breath and stares at the lump of earth where he buried her. "You know how to play Ave Maria on that shizz? She liked that one."

Jamie scratches his ear for a moment, considering. The prayer he's certainly familiar with, but the song's over a hundred years past his time. However, he has heard it, thanks to his travels with the Doctor - and enough times he can bring it to mind, too. That still doesn't necessarily mean he can translate it to the bagpipes, though, and his reply is an uncertain one. "Aye, well, I've not practiced it, but..."

But the expression on Punchy's face speaks volumes. Jamie doesn't know how close the two of them were, but he knows his newest teammate must be grieving all the same. And he's filled suddenly with the urge to at least try and do what he can to provide a little comfort, even if it's not going to be perfect. He nods, and slips the strap from his shoulder so he can set the case down and open it.

"Give me a moment to put my pipes together and I'll have a go."

"Thanks. I appreciate it." He does pick up on Jamie's hesitation, but unless Jamie outright rejects the idea, he figures the other guy can make his own decisions. He sticks his hands in his pockets and keeps his eyes on that hellish patch of ground.

"She was my sister," he adds, because he realizes he didn't explain that to Jamie earlier.

That causes him to look up again, pausing mid-assembly as he does so. He'd realized it was someone that Punchy knew, obviously, but he hadn't heard all of SHODAN's taunting, and the fact that it was his sister strikes him like a fist to the gut. If his brother was in there somewhere, as he might very well be, or his mother, and it had been one of them that had been killed like that...Jamie swallows heavily.

"I'd not realized." He frowns, then shakes his head. "It's not right that she was taken from ye like that."

It shouldn't have happened in the first place, but all he can do now is try and do his best to play to honor her passing. Determined to do just that, he swiftly finishes assembling the pipes and stands, tucking them under one arm to inflate them. There's that peculiar sort of droning noise that always occurs during the first few seconds, then he begins to play properly, and the notes of the pipes fill the air.

It may not be as good as it would have been with a chance to practice, but as he mentally goes through the song in his head, it proves to be recognizable, at least. And, near to the end, he changes the tune slightly, transitioning it into the familiar notes of 'Amazing Grace', another song from beyond his time - but one that's he's learned to play all too well since he woke up on Stacy. It's his own tribute to a fallen crew member, even if she's one he never got a chance to meet.

Punchy looks confused for a moment, like he's having a hard time picking which emotion would be most appropriate for the situation and doesn't have any gut instinct to follow. Finally he shrugs. "She died when I was ten. I didn't know that bot had her."

He stands in silence, hands folded in front of himself, and listens to Jamie play. He's never been a huge fan of bagpipes, and admittedly right now he sort of wants to use them as a sample in some beat somewhere, but the melody, and Amazing Grace's melody, are so familiar and sad that it stirs something in him he didn't want to actually feel. Loss.

"Thanks for that, dawg." His voice is a little choked.

Jamie lets the last notes fade away, and reaches out to lay a hand on Punchy's shoulder briefly, so long as Punchy lets him. "Aye," he says, his own voice more subdued than normal. "It's the least I could do."

Even if he isn't aware his playing has brought out that sense of loss, he knows what it's like to lose family - although the circumstances are definitely different. But he's can still emphasize with at least a little of that pain. "Do ye want to talk about her? What she was like?"

Punchy takes that touch as an invitation for physical comfort, so he wraps his arms around Jamie and hugs him, barely avoiding crushing the bagpipes.

"Nah, I just...first time she died was ten years ago, you know? I don't remember all of it. I don't remember all of her." That's the thing - it didn't matter to Punchy who she was. It mattered to him that she was a tragic story, an icon and not a person.

Now he's realizing that he missed his second chance to actually know her as his sister.

"She was a nun. We had a tent up in our crib, up top in the attic, and she used to read to me up there and...she never got her driver's license and she didn't like TV."

Why can't he remember anything else?

The bagpipes are tough, and can take it - although there's a distinctly unmusical noise that escapes the instrument for a few seconds before Jamie's able to shift how he's holding them. It not only helps stop any inadvertent crushing, but makes it easier for Jamie to return the embrace and pat Punchy on his back with his free arm.

Ten years is a long time. Long enough for what were once sharp memories to fade, day to day things to slip away and leave behind snippets in its wake. It's only once you try to bring them to mind again that you realize that, sometimes, and the look he gives his new friend isn't entirely unaware that this might be the case here. What he's not aware of is the part of seeing her as an icon. He simply thinks Punchy just doesn't remember as much from that long ago - and that if his sister had seen what he had become she'd be proud.

"She sounds as though she was a good person. I'm sorry you'd not gotten the chance to talk with her again," he says quietly. "But you'll always have a part of her with ye, I think."

Edited 2012-03-01 20:16 (UTC)

Punchy holds the hug probably for a few seconds longer than is typically socially acceptable, but he's never been good at reading cues like that. He doesn't mean anything by it, except that he deeply appreciates the gesture.

"I guess, yeah. I just been trying to put, you know, the whole fam and all behind me for so long I didn't realize how much I was just ditching, you know?" The accent he tries to hide, the parents he lies about to make them more interesting, the hometown he never talks about. "She was the only thing I didn't lie about."

He wonders what Jamie thinks about that, knowing his teammate's a fraud trying to distance himself from his origin. He's trusting Jamie with a lot of insecurity, but Jamie seems like the type to take it in stride. Unlike Punchy could ever be despite all his efforts, Jamie's mature for his age.

"Not that I'm not honest," Punchy adds lamely.

Even though the hug's skirting the edge of that period of time where Jamie might normally say 'That's enough of all that' and pull back, he doesn't. The fact Punchy's grieving is enough for him to be willing to let it slide. Besides, he has his own habit of giving into the urge to have physical contact of some sort at times, and that could be thought of in much the same way. He winds up first setting the pipes down and then folding his arms against his chest during the explanation, but the latter is more from the need to place his arms somewhere rather than any judgement on the situation. And his expression remains a considering one, rather than edging into disapproval.

"Aye, well," he says finally, reaching up to scratch his ear. "There's things I've lied about, too. Not always for exactly the same reasons, mind ye, but there's been a few times where I'd said I've understood something I've not, just to make it seem like I knew what I was doing."

He doesn't admit that often, but something about the fact that Punchy is trusting him enough to tell him about some of those insecurities makes him want to respond in kind.

"And with the TARDIS..." He shakes his head for a moment. "People wouldn't believe ye even if ye did tell them the truth. So I'll no be the one to judge ye on what you've changed about a bit."

Edited 2012-03-04 09:13 (UTC)

"Yeah? But that's not really lying." At least, Punchy hopes it's not, or he's going to have a few more things to disclose at his next confession. Which he's behind on, for that matter, but it's not as if there's much in the way of organized religion here on Stacy.

Punchy half-smiles at Jamie's attempts to comfort him. He might as well come clean with it. At least Jamie's, thus far, the understanding type, and a teammate. Someone reliable, who's a little older than Punchy and has seen a little more of the world (and of time and space).

"I'm not actually a gangsta. And my real name's Matthew."

Some would say it's not completely honest either, but Jamie supposes when it comes down to it, there's no harm in a few small white lies from time to time. "Aye, I suppose that's true."

Besides, sometimes it really is necessary. Especially when it comes to certain things that've been instrumental in Jamie's ability to do that traveling through time and space. At the same time, however, there's something to be said for honesty...and trust. And the fact that Punchy - well, Matthew - is willing to share his real name is something that Jamie appreciates for quite a lot of reasons. Even if he doesn't get the first part of what's been said.

"Look, I've no idea what a gang sty even is, so you've no worries there. And...well, my real name is James, though I'd prefer it if ye still called me Jamie. Would ye rather I still use Punchy?"

"You know, gangsta. From the hood. One of them high-ballers from the projects." Punchy spreads his arms in typical gangsta body language, as if that'll jog Jamie's memory. Maybe he should drag Jamie into the media library and make him listen to The Chronic a few hundred times in a row.

...Actually, that's not a terrible idea. Beware, Jamie.

"Yeah. Please." Matthew's a name he's been trying to leave behind for a while. Maybe it's one he'll never stop being able to run from. It's not that there's anything wrong with it, but it looms over him like this bastion of normalcy, when he's always wanted to be, in whatever way he can be, exceptional. "And I'll call you Jamie when I ain't calling you homeboy."

Given the almost comically blank look on Jamie's face at the moment, it seems that some education might be in order, even if Jamie won't thank Punchy for that afterward.

"The only hood I'm familiar with is the one ye wear on your head, Punchy. They'd not had anything like that back in my time. At least, not by those names ye keep calling them."

There's always the possibility that whatever it is Punchy's talking about could be something Jamie knows, or at least be able to come up with an equivalent with once he finds out. But unless his fellow teammate switches to plain English, he's likely just going to remain confused by the terms.

"And I suppose ye can call me homeboy if ye like, but I'm not sure why ye would want to do that."

Okay, make that a lot of education.

"You know, 'hood. Like neighborhood." Is he going to have to explain the etymology of everything, Jamie? What a pain in the keester. Punchy doesn't even know what half the words he spits mean, much less enough to elaborate. He mostly just spits out what he hears from his favorite rap songs.

"It's props, dawg. I don't call just nobody my homeboy." He bropounds Jamie in the shoulder.

Well, maybe not everything, but if the word 'etymology' comes out of Punchy's mouth, you bet that he'll have to explain that, at least. However, his face clears up at the 'hood explanation, because that he can understand.

"Oh! That makes sense." As does homeboy a few seconds later. (The bropound helps.) With a crooked smile, he returns the gesture. "Aye, well then. Homeboy it is."

He's about to offer to have Punchy come back to the house a bit, when he glances back down at that small mound of dirt where Punchy's sister now rested, and the smile slips away as he's reminded of why they're here. It occurs to him that maybe Punchy would like to have a few more moments with his sister - and not necessarily with Jamie around, homeboy or no. "Did ye want to get going? Or do ye want me to leave ye here for a bit to say goodbye alone?"

The word 'etymology' would never actually come out of Punchy's mouth. ~~'Etimizzle', maybe.~~

Punchy glances back at the patch of earth and for a moment he almost forgets to breathe. "Nah, let's bounce."

And then, more sadly. "She ain't going nowhere."

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Counting Up Your Bones [Closed]

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