Private A Return

[George Vitalis]

HYPERSPACE
Reima Vitalis

It had taken some time for them to gather up the time and needs for the trip. Sadly they weren't kids anymore with no responsibilities. They couldn't just drop everything there was, jump in a ship and see where Hyperspace would take them. That loss was felt even more keenly by George. Sometimes he felt like that time in the Netherworld had robbed him of those quintessential experiences. He didn't get to see some of the most formative years of his younger sister, he didn't get to fool around and enjoy himself either, instead he was being tugged between the two worlds.

One, where his mother needed him and above her, the nation itself. Another where he was doing his best to make up for lost time. Partying (within reason), having girlfriends (even more reason), going out and explore (in a reasonable fashion).

Sometimes he just wanted to jump in that ship and fly away. Other times George felt the responsibility on his shoulders, the way his mother relied on him, and he couldn't help but feel proud that he didn't crack under the pressure. It was a tough balance, but he was happy to have his sister for it now. The droid was humming away quietly in the cockpit, they'd be leaving hyperspace soon enough and arrive in the Galidraan system.

He was searching around for Reima and found her in the mess hall of their luxury freighter.

"There you are, I have been looking all over." George teased as he plopped himself down in one of the chairs. "Have you been back to Galidraan, since... you know?"

 

[Reima Vitalis]

George would find his sister in the galley, buttering some toast, a kettle for tea bubbling but not quite whistling on the nearby hob. "Here I am," she agreed in a distracted voice as she finished off one of the pieces of toast. "Making toast and tea. You want?"

When the kettle went, she took it off the hob and poured the boiling liquid into the efficient little square teapot that she had already placed on an efficient little tray next to two teacups, the plate bearing a stack of toast, and efficient little square jugs for milk and sugar. She dropped a teabag into the teapot -- one concession to modern life on a starship -- and placed the lid back on, then carried the whole works over to where George sat.

"No," she said. "I used to go to Foxfield on leave, before you... came back." Reima nudged the teapot, as if she could will the tea to brew faster. "Auntie Petra was usually good fun, but then Grandmama died and she moved to the city. It was too dangerous in those days, so I stopped coming. By then the New Imperials had all but died off, but their particularly rabid anti-Vitalis sentiments stayed as strong as ever among those who held the reigns in Calavar. Of course, Auntie Petra was a special case because she was part of the resistance."

She frowned and reached for a slice of toast, a faraway look in her eyes. Breaking off a corner for a nibble. "I can't believe it's been three years since she died. Where does the time go? While we're -- home, I guess -- we ought to stop by the crypt to pay our respects to them. To Uncle Thad and Father as well." She ate the toast corner and settled back into her chair to let the tea steep, arms folding around her slender middle. "What about you? I would think you'd go back to check on things at Foxfield every so often, no?"

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Reima Vitalis

"Reima's famous toast and tea combo? How could I decline?" George teased her lightly and stretched a little on the chair. It wasn't as comfortable as the pilot one or some of the more opulent chairs they had at home, but it would do in a pinch otherwise. He listened as he nibbled on one of the pieces of toasts offered up by his sister.

It was difficult to really... understand.

The fact that Petra was gone, grandmother was gone. So much had happened while he was stuck in the Netherworld. It would hurt, if his heart didn't already feel scabbed over a thousand times.

Maybe it was for the best.

Mother would say that as nobility they had to have a heart of iron. They couldn't let these things get them down. After all, the famous Iron Lady had had her share of heartache and suffering, she didn't let that drag her down. Natasi was the best of them. Strongest, fierce. Reima and him were reflections of that, put together they matched, but separate? George wasn't sure they'd ever reach her heights.

"I... have not been as often as I'd like. The memories. I feel sometimes like I am a stranger in my own home. I don't know if that makes a lot of sense." He offered a grimace that doubled as a smile.

"But, yes, I'd like to pay respects. Thanks again... for accompanying me. It means a lot, I am not sure I'd be able to be there alone."

 

[Reima Vitalis]

"It's nothing," she said, but when her eyes met his she smiled uncomfortably. "It's not nothing."

Reima had always been uneasy at Herevan. She had spent a lot of time there, and at the neighboring estate of Foxfield Park, and she infinitely preferred the latter to the former. Herevan was firmly Natasi's domain, with portraits of grandparents she would never know glowering down from half the walls, great-grandparents even further removed looking terribly dignified. What struck her most was that there was nothing of her father there. No favorite armchair, no box of cigars, no shirts in wardrobes, nothing but his handsome face peering out of a platinum-framed printed photograph on her mother's desk. That was also where the only trace of Reima and George were, in the opposite frame of the hinged, two-paneled platinum frame. In one side, Natasi and Talbot, each with an enigmatic half-smile, in a portrait from their wedding. In the other, a very solemn-looking, sandy-haired toddler boy clutching a bundle of lace that was the newborn Reima Vitalis.

There was also very little of her grandmother and namesake, other than pictures. She had been painted alone as a young woman, with the namana orchards of Bakura behind her, from before her marriage; she had been painted as a newlywed, a blushing bride, and as a young mother proudly presenting her eldest, Mathes. Another painting, with Reima standing next to a taller Mathes, both looking down at a swaddled infant Natasi. There were only two more, one with both her children in their childhood and the last with her alone, her thirtieth birthday, weeks before her death.

Reima had come from away, from Bakura, with a fortune to rescue the Fortan holdings and especially Herevan Hold after a series of disastrous harvests. And for her trouble, she became completely subsumed by the Fortan name, the Fortan legacy, her final reward a place of honor in a frozen mausoleum lightyears from Bakura, never having learned of her part in the dynasty that has settled the vast tumult that was the Unknown Regions, turning a backwater like Dosuun into the capital of a galactic superpower. The mythology of Fortan didn't leave room for Reima Esperell.

Or Reima Vitalis.

"Chalk it up to guilt," she told her brother, surfacing from the ruminations with a subtle shake of her head. "It's my fault we have to buy the place back, after all. I hope you know it wasn't about the money, George," Reima said, suddenly quite stoic. "I didn't sell Herevan Hold because I wanted money. It was -- a different time. The powers that ran Galidraan were looking to exact vengeance on Fortans because of what mother did with the Sith Imperials. I'm sure her aunt ran roughshod over the place, which didn't help. She was always so eager to trade on the family name."

She swirled the teapot and peeked inside the lid, then -- apparently satsified with the strength of the brew -- poured out George's cup, then her own. "Not to mention it was terrifying to be there on my own. After you and mother simply vanished." She shuddered violently. "I hope you'll have the place checked out before you go into the attics again. It could still be dangerous."

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

He realized that Reima was lost in thought and far away in that moment. It reminded George of himself, when he slipped for a moment and his thoughts were back in the Netherworld. It would take someone to tug at his elbow or shake his shoulder to get him out of it. But George didn't dare to do it now, her expression wasn't pained... it was just thoughtful. And he certainly didn't like it, being reminded when his thoughts didn't align with the moment they were supposed to serve.

Reima wouldn't like it either.

She came back to him eventually and George blinked at what she said next.

"Of course not." He said sharply, firm in a way that might surprise them both. His expression immediately softened and there he reached out to pat her hand gently. "Of course not." A bit softer now. "You were all alone, without us, I can't imagine having an estate with even more ancient memories of family list would help you."

Would George have preferred if Reima Vitalis hadn't done it? Certainly, it would have made things easier now.

"And yes, you had to do what you needed to do to keep yourself safe. I understand that." His expression a bit pained. "Your big brother wasn't there to help you, protect you like he should." Then pain turned into a bit of an amused sheepish look. "And now I am not even your big brother anymore, I didn't even get to see you grow up further."

A soft sigh there, squeezing her hand.

"All that is to say, is that I don't blame you at all and I don't want you to carry around the fear that I might. I love you... I support you. And I am grateful you are here with me now." The ship shuddered and George blinked as he glanced over to the terminal. "Oh, looks like we are almost there. I am gonna go steady the reversal. We will be planet-side in about half an hour."

One last squeeze and then George let go and rose up.

"It will be like it was supposed to be, Rei. Two of us together, we weren't meant to be separate." Then he turned to take his leave towards the cockpit.

 

[Reima Vitalis]

"Lucky you," Reima quipped. "There were times -- years, really -- when you wouldn't have liked what you saw. I don't particularly like to think of it now," she said, voice matter of fact. Reima had been something of a wild child after her brother's disappearance. Some part of her convinced that he was dead and gone, and that the only way to see him again would be to die herself. What use, then, a long life of propriety? Live fast, die young, and boy had she taken that motto to heart. Men -- boys, mostly, but a rather daring fling with a professor of hers did stand out -- and speeder bike races, which had graduated into very fast and highly illegal podraces, which had turned to her former career as a fighter pilot.

Lots of drinking along the way. A little drugs.

Live fast. Die young.

But it had never come off. Despite her best efforts, she had survived every encounter. Found a way to get into the Netherworld that didn't require her to sacrifice her life and dragged her brother out. And now she had a lifetime to remember and regret every bad decision, every ill-planned romance. She could cringe just thinking about it, and often did. "But... nevermind. Things to do." She forced a smile and drained her tea. "I'll tidy up in here while you get us squared away. You know me, I hate to fly anything slower than an X-Wing."

Reima stood up and watcher her brother go, then cleared away the tea and rinsed the pot and the crumbs. It was a few minutes before she joined George in the cockpit. Herevan loomed large in the viewport, rising from below like a sun, somehow. Decades of Fortan history dotted the terrain as much as lakes and trees. "By God, I am feeling melodramatic," she informed George cheerfully as she settled into the copilot's chair, draping her legs over one of the armrests, putting her back against the other. "I almost asked you do you suppose we will ever stop putting scars on this world? like a goddamned -- I don't even know what."

She glanced at the planet again, ever larger. "I meant to ask whether you'd been back," she said, nodding toward the viewscreen. "Just -- here. Not Herevan, necessarily."

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

"There were times -- years, really -- when you wouldn't have liked what you saw."

He paused at the doorstep and turned slightly.

"You saved my life, Rei-Rei. Nothing else you have done will ever erase it and you have my undying loyalty until the end of time."

Having declared a lifelong pact to Reima as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, he took his leave finally and left her to her devices. It didn't take a long time for the ship to settle in the right transit routes. Say whatever you want about Galidraan and the mess the Sith had left, but it was still an orderly planet that had its chit together.

For the most part anyway.

By the time they were approaching the space port proper Reima Vitalis joined him and he shifted slightly, so he could turn to her when she began to speak.

"I meant to ask whether you'd been back," she said, nodding toward the viewscreen. "Just -- here. Not Herevan, necessarily."

"No, I haven't." He said softly as he watched the docking bay come closer and closer. "Too many memories. Same stuff as you, I imagine. I get the weekly correspondence and give any orders that need giving, but that's about it." The ship started to slow and automated protocols took over, allowing George to take his hands off of the steering wheel.

"We are here anyway, after the auction, would you like to visit the other estate? I don't know if you have been there... recently or otherwise?"

Standing up and offering his hand to Reima, to help her up to her feet.

"Let's go and join the chaos, shall we? I imagine we are going to draw quite some eyes."

 

[Reima Vitalis]

"We should," Reima agreed with her brother's proposition that they visit Foxfield Park. She rose as the ship settled onto the landing pad. The village had never had one until after the First Order's death. Natasi had enjoyed the leisure of a train from Calavar -- the little luxuries in a sleeper car, the unique taste of a cocktail on rails -- and her own stealth corvette was small enough to land on the grounds of Herevan Hold in a pinch. But with the security demands of the little lordling and his little sister, something had had to give, and so the facility had been built outside of the outskirts, hopefully far enough to leave the place some peace and quiet, some historic charm.

"I'd hate for the Duchy to get the idea that the Young Lord is too big for his britches and moved on to bigger and better things," she said, half-teasing. "Besides which, I left a few good jewels there last time I came and I'd rather like them back for the Season."

She followed George to the entryway, where she donned her fur coat against the perpetual winter of Herevan County. Its unique position atop a cliff mesa made the county drafty and cool almost all the year through. Summers were usually overcast, and warmish but never with the heat and sun of Southport. Even Calavar had a little more sun and summer than Herevan ever did. Reima had always preferred the cheer of Southport, but there were important matters to discuss.

"You must promise not to let them throw produce at me," Reima said, another half-joke. She doubted whether it would come to that, but she knew she was on much of the county's list for selling up. George was still their Earl, still paid attention to the needs of the county, but it had been centuries with one Fortan or another in Herevan Hall, up until Reima Vitalis dashed all that history.

They descended the ramp. Even from here, she could see that the Hold was lit up like a Life Day tree, its towers and turrets showing over the tree bathed in golden light. "He's certainly showing it to advantage," she muttered to George as she took his arm. "Remember, in addition to the bearer bonds, I've got several hundred million in the bank locally, in case someone wants to get cheeky."