Return to Camelot
Nate's coffee pot chose to chime at the exact moment he made the decision to be the audience for the unknown writer. He stifled an annoyed sigh, but fixed himself a cup of coffee all the same. The book was thick, and it looked like almost all the pages had been filled. He had a feeling he would be up late tonight.
He took a swig of the drink and set the cup far away on the coffee table, before picking up the book and starting where he left off.
After we were separated, I passed out and I'm pretty sure I was unconscious for several hours. I remember it was daylight when I landed, and it was fully dark when I woke up again. It was cold and lightly damp, and I appeared to have landed in a large field. As you might remember, I didn't have time to put on my under-suit before the emergency. A pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt were hardly designed to withstand Fall weather in the ancient English countryside. I could see lights in the distance, and what looked like a farm house. There was a forest in the other direction, and as you know, there are few things more dangerous than unfamiliar woods at night.
Walking through a field at night with no shoes is very low on my list of ranked experiences. I'm pretty sure some of the things I stepped in weren't mud, and I felt pretty awful when I got to the house. Fortunately, the farmers were still awake when I arrived. This is when I learned where I was - the farmers spoke English. Old English.
They were suspicious of me at first - a tall, strangely dressed, bedraggled man sagging on their doorstep in the night. But I managed to charm them into helping me. They led me to water, where I could wash the muck off my feet and legs, gave me some potatoes to eat, and let me sleep on the floor near their fire.
I remember thinking a lot about you that night. Wondering how you were holding up. How much you were drinking. If you'd forgiven M. for not letting you come after me. But more than all of that, I remember wishing for the first of many, many times, that I had told you how I really felt. That I loved you more than as a friend or a brother.
Nate gasped and stared wide-eyed at the book. The whole time, he'd assumed the "dearest friend" was a woman that the writer had feelings for. He read through the previous entry again, but no - there was nothing to indicate the friend's gender. "Wow."
Nate found himself smiling - even more drawn to the Writer, somehow. He tended to enjoy finding evidence of things or ideas people thought were completely modern referenced in ancient documents. Nothing better than that for proving that History was relevant. But most of all, it just felt... cool somehow, to be reading about a gay (or maybe bi, or pan, or otherwise queer) possible time traveler. Nate continued reading the entry.
I've loved you for years. Since before A. left you, and long before I ever met N. If I'm honest with myself, I think I first knew I was in love with you when you came back for me. I can't say too much, but you didn't agree with me. You thought I was idealistic and foolish, and you wanted to punch my lights out and tear your hair out. But you didn't abandon me. You came back, and you joined me, even though you didn't have to, or even want to.
No one - not even someone on our crew - had ever done anything so selfless for me before. We've saved each other's lives many times since then. The first day I met you, you and M. saved my life. And we've sacrificed all of ourselves for one another over the years. But this was the first time you did it for me, and only me - no greater cause, no mystery to solve, no mission. Just me. And I've loved you ever since.
My hand is cramping - writing with quill and ink is no joke. But I'll keep going tomorrow. I hope you find this one day, and that it helps you find me, even though I have to be so vague. My
suittech is toast - I can't use the parts to reach you like I did once before, so I feel a little lost. But I trust you, and I know you'll reach me one day. And when you do, I'm not going to let anyone or anything come between us again - not even me.