Post by captain benjamin harland on Apr 21, 2009 17:55:48 GMT -5
benjamin cole harland
[/b][/color][/size] A Captain Benjamin Harland at the dear age of twenty-seven has found himself upon the most curious of situations - entering into London's most tantilizing gossip. "[/i][/color][/font][/size][/ul][/blockquote]
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W R I T E R .
name: melinda
RP experience: aaaaages
how did you find us?: really, why must we go down that road again?
age: 25
gender: lady
P O R T R A I T .
eye color: dark blue
hair color: brunette
height: 6'2"
body type: muscular
distinguishing features:
fashion style:
M A N N E R S .
profession: Captain in Her Majesty's Military
adoration for:
distaste for:
dreams:
fears:
secrets:
main:
P A S T .
family:
main:
Benjamin Harland leaned back, his head resting lightly against the rough stucco wall as he listened to his men share tales of their homes and those they had left behind. He never grew tired of hearing their stories, bright and glistening with hope like the stars above. Years ago another solider had compared them to the tears that had sparkled upon his bride’s cheeks as he whispered farewell. At the time Benjamin had thought the sentiment was poetic, mulling it over in his journal by the dimming light of the fire. In the years that followed those words loosened their grip upon his heart. There were no heartfelt goodbyes or tender embraces before he left London. Sentimentalism did not change the outcome of a war. It was why he was a good soldier; why he had advanced rapidly through the ranks. Life was not meant to be spent reliving your decisions and questioning them. Even if he wanted to, there was no going back.
The youngest in a family of seven, Benjamin had been expected to follow in his father’s steps as a clergyman. Even as a young boy he knew that was not the path for him. He did not want to spend the rest of his life scrimping for a meal of cold porridge or weak broth while his children cried and his wife looked defeated. During a trip into town with his mother he had taken notice of a group of soldiers outside the pub. They had laughed boisterously, their brass buttons gleaming in the bright afternoon sun. Local girls smiled shyly in their direction, hoping to gain a nod of recognition. Even his own mother’s head had turned toward them as they passed. In that instant Benjamin knew that he had found his future – one his father did not support. Late one autumn evening, while the rest of his family lay nestled in their beds, Benjamin walked out of the small cottage – his childhood home – for the last time. His independence cost him his family. It was only once in London that he found the crumpled note wrapped around his grandfather’s pocket watch. Don’t let your dreams be darkened by your fears, Mother. Her simple not was all he needed. She understood why he had left and that made all the difference.
From that moment he made a conscious decision not to dwell on the life he had walked from. This was his future and he could shape it however he wished. The military provided him with warm meals and a soft bed. Their uniform garnered him no shortage of warm bodies with whom to spend the night. Only rarely, in the stillness of a night, as he listened to the soft breath of the woman beside him did he wonder if there was something more. In his experiences love clouded the mind of a soldier. It kept them from the task at hand, their eyes seeing only the smiling face of the loved one at home. Blinded to their own desires, the same image accompanied them to their graves. In those serene moments, he found himself wondering if that was the only true power love possessed, the ability to comfort in the last fragile moments of life.
“And ye, Cap’ain? What be waitin’ fer ya?”
Blinking against the shadows of past, Benjamin smiled at the young soldier. “A soft pillow,” he quipped, earning laughter from his men. By the time they returned their laughter would be harder, grim from memories that would forever haunt them. His trained eyes surveyed the group of men he had been entrusted with. They wouldn’t all return to the lives the spoke of fondly. While he understood the rationale behind the missions they were assigned, he often wondered if those assigning them understood the true cost. For those reasons Benjamin made a concerted effort to avoid forming attachments with his men. It was easier to move others forward when he wasn’t looking back as well.
The mission into the dense jungles of India was not a first for him. He loved the spice-laden air that swelled around the small villages they passed through. There was a warmth to the people that shone through despite their wariness. This particular mission changed everything.
Danny Donoghue was the sort of man every Captain dreamed of having in his unit. Hard working with an easy charm made him an instant favorite amongst the men. His booming laugh was infectious and he seemed impervious to the hard living conditions, always finding something positive to hold on to. On many occasions he sought Benjamin out, intent on bridging the carefully constructed divide the young Captain kept between himself and his men. Friendship, however, remained something Benjamin did not want with any of his men. Most men gave up after they failed to learn anything of Benjamin’s life outside his career and he was confident that Danny would follow suit.
It was the pocket watch that changed everything. While on night patrol Benjamin had stumbled, tripping over a root while he was checking the time. The watch had fallen from his hands, landing with against a rock with a loud thud. With a sinking heart, Benjamin retrieved the last piece of his family he had left, quickly discovering that it was broken. Without hesitating, Danny had taken the watch from him and had fixed it by the next evening. The two men became good friends quickly thereafter and Benjamin found himself looking forward to the nights spent on patrol where he would hear stories of Danny’s beloved Ireland and the only girl bold enough to win his heart.
“Captain Harland, sir. If I might have a word…”
The wind whipped through the open flap of Benjamin’s tent, sending the papers he was looking over scattering across the floor. “Don’t just stand there, Tom,” he grumbled, reaching for a stack of forms that lay crumpled beneath his boot. He did not bother looking at the young soldier who had interrupted him. He could hear him clear his throat, his feet kicking up a cloud of dust as he shuffled forward nervously. A knowing smirk played upon Benjamin’s lips. He recognized the apprehension on his face – he had been the same way on his first mission. Timidity was a hindrance in the military – a lesson better learned early on. “Please tell me that this is more than a social call or else you are wasting my time.”
“Yes sir…I mean, no sir. I mean…” he stammered, his face reddening. “Sir, it’s Donoghue, sir.”
Benjamin’s brow rose. “What about him?”
“He’s sick, sir. Has been for a while – but it’s gettin’ worse. I think…well, I’m not a doctor but…well…the other men asked me to get ya.”
“Why was I not told immediately at the onset of his illness?” he demanded. Dread knotted his stomach, closing tight until he could not breathe. Even as the cadet told him that it had been Danny’s wish because he didn’t believe his ailment to be anything serious, Benjamin knew what those were the words he was going to say. Danny was not one to want to give anyone cause to worry. He would rather find his own path, surmount the odds. It was both an asset and a pitfall. There were many illnesses that could plague a man in the jungle. He had witnessed too many soldiers lose themselves because they didn’t want to be viewed as a burden. While there were times where it was nothing more than homesickness, too often it was fatal. Shaking his head, Benjamin reached for his jacket. “Take me to him at once.”
The man lying on the cot was not the Danny he knew. His skin was waxy, covered in a sheen of perspiration. When his dark eyes would flutter open they were distant, glazed, dark circles making them appear hollow. Other soldiers stood nearby watching their friend with lost expression. Taking a deep breath, Benjamin fell back into his role of leader with ease. “Don’t just stand round like housewives,” he snapped before barking out various orders – anything to keep them busy; to keep himself from admitting how serious Danny’s ailment appeared.
In the days that followed, Danny remained in a state of listless slumber. He was neither awake nor asleep and Benjamin ordered that someone remain at his bedside and tell him if anything changed. Nothing ever did and his nights were spent staring blankly at a piece of paper, contemplating how to tell Danny’s beloved wife that her husband had taken ill. It was a letter he had penned countless times before without a second thought. This time it was different, this time he considered the man he was writing about a friend, this time he knew how his words would devastate the recipient. “Beggin’ yer pard’n sir, but it’s Don’hue.” Grim, Benjamin looked up from the crumpled papers stained with ink and torn in frustration. With a soft sight, he breathed a silent prayer that it was not the news he had been dreading. “’E’s as alert as oi’ve ever seen ‘im. Askin’ fer ya, too.”
“Thank you, Greer. I’ll see to him in a moment.” It wouldn’t do to rush over, his men would suspect his friendship with Danny and it would be disastrous if they began accusing him of playing favorites. He waited until the other man left before turning his attention back to the letter he had struggled over. Perhaps now he would be able to instill hope rather than fear. With that thought, Benjamin made his way to his way to the small tent that housed his friend.
Danny was a shell of who he was when he had first arrived in India. His pallid skin appeared translucent in the dim light of lantern by his bed. A cool cloth was affixed to his forehead with a thick bandage to keep it from slipping during a fit. With a curt nod he dismissed the soldier who had been watching over Danny, taking his place on the rough wooden chair beside the narrow cot. For a long moment neither man spoke, the silence only punctuated by Danny’s shallow rasps of breath. “Danny?” he finally asked softly, afraid to waken him.
“Aye.” He nodded, a faint smile sparking in his eyes. “Ya look as if ya seen a ghost. I must be lookin’ something terrible.” For the next hour the men talked, laughing and reminiscing. By the time Benjamin left the tent he was certain that Danny was on the road to recovery. Everything would be fine – a fact he relayed to Danny’s wife in the letter he mailed the next day.
No one spoke of Danny’s illness in the days that followed. The camp seemed relieved that he was on the mend – Benjamin couldn’t help but notice that their laughter was lighter, their smiles less forced. Arrangements had been made prior to Danny’s recovery to return to London ahead of schedule to assure that he received proper medical attention. If anyone deserved to return home whole and unscathed it was a man like Danny Donoghue, and Benjamin was wholly relieved that he would not have to meet his wife and inform her that she was now a widow.
They had only been at sea for two days when Danny took a turn for the worse and Benjamin was summoned to his cabin immediately. His hand gripped the worn brass handle as he watched his friend shouting out against an imagined assailant, his eyes focused on a world beyond the one where they rested. Swallowing hard, Benjamin motioned for the other men to leave. “Danny,” he commanded, struggling to keep his voice steady. “At ease soldier, the danger has passed.” It was not the first time he had seen a fever trap a man in a world of his own creation. He knew from experience that he could not dissuade the delusions or acknowledge them. Instead, he needed to try and draw the man back to the present. Danny’s eyes cleared, focusing on Benjamin. His breathing was ragged from the exertion of the battle he had just engaged in, his pillow – the imagined enemy – was ripped in his tight grip. “Sure was some battle just then, Benny. Some battle.” Unable to speak past the lump forming in his throat, Benjamin nodded. “They’ll be back, ya know. I could see it in their eyes.”
“The battle’s over now, soldier. You should rest. You’ll need it.”
Danny’s expression clouded, the pillow falling from his hand. “It was so real,” he murmured, running his hands through his hair, bewildered. “I could have sworn t’was real.”
“It’s just the fever,” Benjamin assured him. “I’ve seen it before, Danny. That you know it was only a dream is a good sign.”
“Promise me something, Benny. Promise you’ll look after me Aìne if I can’t.” Benjamin stared blankly at the other man, slowing realizing what it was that he was being asked. Lowering his eyes, he nodded softly. His promise would remain unfulfilled. They would dock in London in a week’s time and Danny would reunite with his wife.
It was not the reunion any of them had hoped for. The morning after Benjamin had promised to care for Aìne should anything happen to Danny did the other man lapse into unconsciousness, his fever holding him hostage. Benjamin couldn’t help but wonder if somehow Danny had known that he was going to be lost to all of them. Keeping his promise was never a question for Benjamin. He knew if the situation had been reversed that Danny would be the one looking out for him. The rest of their journey was grim. There was a fear amongst the other men that the fever that had claimed Danny would spread. Some believed that the ailing soldier had been cursed by the land they had served in; the strange people using the only means they had to fight against the British. So the task fell to Benjamin to attend to his friend. He banned the others from the room, opting to be the one to bring him cold compresses and weak broth to sip. By the time they docked in London, Benjamin knew that Danny was gone.
The other men carefully lifted Danny from his cot and onto a wooden stretcher. Benjamin trailed behind them, solemn as they made their way and to his waiting wife. He watched in silence as realization dawned on her and she rushed to Danny’s side. Guilt twisted like a knife in his gut, searing and hot. He hated the letter that had become her false hope, where he had told her that Danny would return whole instead of the shell he had become. It would be easier if he had to tell her that she was a widow instead of knowing that she would forever look into the vacant windows of her husband, waiting for him to light up once more.
Her eyes met his then, determination glinting amidst her pain. As he peered back, Benjamin felt himself fall into their cerulean depths. He had not lived until that moment, and as her eyes turned back to her ailing husband, his lingered along the soft camber of her cheek, the way her auburn hair cradled her ivory neck. For the first time he understood what others had meant when they suggested that he was missing something in his life. Aìne Donoghue was everything he had ever searched for, yet she would never be his.
Beneath the ruse that he was assigned by the military to check on Danny’s progress, Benjamin made his way to the hospital. Aìne was at Danny’s side, her hand holding his tightly to her chest as she whispered into his ear. He stood there for a long time, not speaking, drinking in the tenderness of the moment. She turned to him then, her eyes widening in surprise. Without hesitation, Benjamin stepped into the small hospital room, his hat tucked neatly in the crook of his arm. “I’m a friend,” he said quietly. “I was with Danny in India.”
His world is now devoted to the one woman who will never know that she holds his heart. Any spare money is placed in an envelope that he slides beneath her door monthly. All he wants is to see her happy, even though that happiness will cost him her forever. [/ul]
E T C .
play-by:michael camiloto
password:
rp sample:
puddle baby by the light of the moon[/blockquote][/size] 
