Bye, Bye, Beautiful.

Lancius drifted around the hotel’s courtyard. To his eyes, he was on a beach, dry and sandy, everything the chilly, dull gray of a morning when the sun is still an hour or two from rising. His ears heard soldiers, and shouts that aren't there, dim and in the distance. Kneeling for a moment in the cool sand, he rubbed his temples; his head hurt, but it was better to be weak away from the eyes of his men.

"... Lancius, are you alright?" In the present, Myrtle had come across the stumbling Centurion.

He rose swiftly to his feet, hiding his surprise admirably, but still not well enough. Blinking once upon  seeing Myrtle in the slightly altered garb of a senator, he shakily greeted his company.

"Myrtle...?"

"Lancius, go back to bed. You're still healing." She shifted a bit on her feet as she said this; he’s going to kill himself. She could see the wounds on his torso from the Daevite knife; they looked awful.

But he shook his head staunchly. "I can not. I must lead my men to establish a...a..." He paused for a moment, and Myrtle saw the Centurion's perception of the past and the present flicker in his eyes.

"...a beach-head at Troy. I explained this to you..."

"... You need your rest, though. You haven't left yet, still a bit of time before..."

"No. There's too much to do beforehand. And I will not have an entire operation delayed for the sake of my rest."

"Don't... damn it Lancius. You're going to kill yourself."

"I will return. I always do." He trailed off, rubbing his forehead. "I will have time enough for rest after this, if that will allay your concerns. There...is something I would speak to you on, afterwards as well." Lancius hadn't realized it, but he was swaying on his feet.

"... Sit, Lancuis. Sit." Myrtle said, in a careful, even tone. "... What do you need to talk to me about?"

Lancius exhaled. "Very well. There is time enough for a short repose. But only if you join me." Divesting himself of what he believed is the cape of a dress uniform, Lancius laid his long coat on the not at all sandy grass of the hotel courtyard. "I would ask that you join me in sitting, before I answer you."

She hesitated. She knew that this could go poorly. But... the Ripper's mind had left, and the Centurion would probably not hurt her. She quietly sat down with him.

"What is it?" She asked; knowing full well what he's going to say. She would feel guilty if she didn't let him confess.

As he sat beside her, far enough to seem polite, he began to speak.

"It has been some years since the senate approved me to become a Centurion. In light of your position among the government, I had understood your reluctance...but I will not be tied to the military after this. I will be retired, and be my own man, free of obligations to anyone but myself.”

There was a pause; Myrtle felt a pit in her stomach.

"And my family, if I were to begin one with someone."

A purposeful silence fell over the pair as he said these words. After what felt like an eternity passed, she took a deep breath, and stood up before Lance, looking down at him.

"Lancius, I want you to look at me." Myrtle said, as Lance pushed himself to his feet, blinking, looking directly into her eyes.

"There is not an order in the world I could follow with more happiness."

"… I'm sorry." A bare moment of hesitation; Myrtle swished her hair to the right, slid to the left, and brought her left foot back into a 360 degree turn. The Centurion’s expression changed rapidly; happiness, confusion, and then calm and pensive; the expression of a man who believed himself to be alone.

Myrtle shifted her feet together, relaxing her arms a bit, slipping her glasses off. A soft, slightly mournful expression crossed her face, and she seemed to exude a kindness. To any observer, she did not feel as if she was Myrtle any more.

Right then, Lancius had felt alone and empty, resting on the beach, the warm salt air on his face, the sand under his palms. But he heard a voice on the wind; he turned to seek the source of the sound, and he saw a small, kind looking commoner girl, indistinct, yet beautiful. She stood far away, the sea mists obscured her form and features; all Lancius knew was that this is the most beautiful woman in the world, and he must return one day and find her. He was in love with her; she’s out there, waiting for him.

Then, she was gone in flash of blue, a flash of cold; Lancius found himself in the desolate hotel courtyard.

Alone.

Lancius gazed ahead, a quiet blankness etched on his features. It seemed somehow strained, compared to his usual expression. Silently, he teetered back to his room, which he saw as a tent; all of the sudden morose enough to admit that there will be nothing lost from a few minutes rest.

Myrtle quietly made her way back to her room, stepping inside and locking the door. She threw her sunglasses at the wall and slid down to the floor, crying quietly to herself. Please, Lancius, she thought. Find her.