fandomtownies | The Causeway, Tuesday Afternoon

Captain Nathan Algren actually found it to be a little bittersweet, packing up the few belongings that he didn't want to part with and making his way to the Causeway. Mina was gone back to be with her League, and, while his feelings for her were strong, her home wasn't where he belonged. And here, increasingly so with each passing day, wasn't where he belonged, either.

But there was one place where he did have a home. A home, and, though he used the term tentatively, a family.

And so it was with his sword at his hip, and a bag of the odds and ends that he'd amassed in his year and a half of being here slung over one shoulder, that he crossed the Causeway. The money he'd made in his time here, once he'd exchanged it for currency more suited to his own time and his destination, would be enough to buy him a horse and some food at least. From Tokyo he'd make his way into the mountains, to the Samurai village that he'd come to love, perhaps to find some measure of the peace that we all seek, and so few ever find.

[Open Causeway is open, should anyone have any desire to catch Algren before he goes. This will be his last post, and from here he's off to that handwavey happy ending with a pretty Japanese woman and her adorable family. Aww.]

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Triela found herself walking toward the Causeway. She'd planned to speak to Captain Algren before things got so late, but hadn't. This was her last chance, and she didn't want to miss it.

She had a bag slung over her shoulder and a determined expression on her face.

Leave it to Algren to pause to take one last look back at the island, only to notice that he wasn't alone, here. He smiled, just slightly, and offered Triela a nod in greeting.

"Good afternoon, Triela."

"Sir," she returned with a serious nod. "You're leaving." Which wasn't a question, but... whatever.

"I am," he agreed. "I've done my duty here. I'd like to think that I've actually managed to teach you students something in the past year and a half."

His smile became a little stronger for a moment. "I never was very good at staying in one place for long."

Triela's lip twitched upward in a slight smile. "I enjoyed having you here," she said. Which was a pretty difficult admission for Triela to make.

"It was good being here," Algren admitted. It was actually good for him to hear, at that. "You've got a year left to go, do you?"

She nodded. "Yes. I'll be a senior this Fall." Or she was one now? She never really understood how that stuff worked.

"If I last that long." It was hard to say whether graduation would happen before she started breaking down or not. The projections were fuzzy.

The smile that he'd been wearing shifted fairly quickly to a frown.

"If you last that long, Triela?"

"Cyborgs wear out faster than normals." It was slightly more complex than that, but... accurate.

Well. That wasn't entirely reassuring, was it? But then...

"I've known a good many 'normals' who have worn out far sooner than most, as well," he noted. "It's a proven fact, living is the one activity with the world's highest mortality rate."

Triela snorted. "True."

She shifted, looking ever so slightly awkward, then slung the bag off of her shoulder. "I got you something... if you think you can take it with you."

Algren glanced at the bag over his shoulder, and then he gave a small shrug.

"I don't seem to be completely weighted down just yet."

With an easy movement, Triela unzipped the bag she had and pulled out a very small pistol. It was clearly designed for easy concealment more than it was for power.

"For emergencies," she explained as she held it out to him.

Algren reached to take the gun, a thoughtful expression on his face as he looked the weapon over.

"You won't miss it?"

He was Samurai, yes, and he preferred his sword to a gun whenever he had the option. But at the same time, the gift was greatly appreciated.

"I can always get another one," Triela pointed out. Then she held out the bag, which was full of ammunition. "Since I don't know if you'll be able to get any back where you're from." Actually, she was pretty sure he couldn't, but... best be polite.

He was quite positive that he couldn't, but if she was going to be polite about it, then so could he. He cracked a wry smile as he accepted the bag.

"Thank you, Triela."

Ammunition for any firearm would be difficult to come across in the mountains of Japan, after all. Particularly in 1877.

History had never been Triela's strong point, but even she'd picked up on that much.

"You're welcome."

Be safe," she added after a moment.

"You as well," he replied, nodding and then reverently tucking the gun away.

There were so many things that he could add. Maybe that he could write, to be certain that she was still finding her own way around this place. Or perhaps his recommendations on other teachers who could potentially supervise the gun club in his absence. Little bits of advice on making it through life as it presented itself. Anything.

Instead, he simply offered her a smile. "Don't lose sight of the friends you've made, here. They'll see you through."

Triela snorted softly. "You sound like a fortune cookie."

Not that she wouldn't remember his advice. Algren tended to give good advice, after all.

"I am from the past," Algren pointed out, and now he was grinning in spite of himself. "Maybe it's the cookies that sound like me."

Well, it was a good thought, wasn't it?

Triela's snort graduated to a quiet laugh. "Maybe that's how it is," she allowed with a smile.

The Causeway, Tuesday Afternoon

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