The Journey Begins: A Magi Fanfiction

Not the Right Redhead

Rick remembers the pain that filled his body when the truck slammed into them. He remembers the look of terror on the other driver's face when they locked eyes and realized what was about to happen. He remembers the warmth of blood filling his mouth and the cold that seeped into every part of his being. He remembers looking towards his daughter, eyes clouded with growing black spots, and seeing the odd golden light that began to surround her. Before this moment he thought he had hallucinated it in his dying moments. Apparently, he had not.

It had been a few hours since he awoke in the strange world, he found himself in. Despite the excruciating pain he remembers feeling, he woke up completely healed. He thought for sure he had awoken in heaven, but he was fairly positive you wouldn't get a headache in heaven. Nor hungry or dehydrated. So, not in heaven, not dead, but certainly not in Georgia either.

It was a river that he awoke beside, not particularly big, but not small enough to be considered a stream or creek. The horizon was marked with the tops of mountains and in the distance, he could see forests in one direction and vast plains to another. At the very edges of his visions reach he could swear he saw a monolithic tower of some type.

Under his breath, he muttered every curse he knew. Considering that he spoke three fluently, and was passable in two others, only broadened his available vernacular. Yes, the history professor could speak English, Italian, and Mandarin Chinese fluently and knew some Latin and Irish Gaelic. For what he couldn't speak, he made up for in his ability to read and translate (Arabic, Hebrew, and funnily enough, he was a leading expert in cuneiform).

Honestly, calling him just a history professor wasn't doing the man justice. He was widely considered as an expert in ancient Roman history, as well as other ancient civilizations such as Babylonia and Greece. It was part of what he and Kyle bonded over, their love of culture, language, and the mysteries of history.

Now, Enrico "Rick" O'Hare had always been a fairly easy-going person. He would only truly get angry or upset when it came to his loved ones. Right now, Rick was furious and quite honestly terrified. Where was he? Where was his daughter? Was she okay? Is she alone? Hungry? Scared? Was she coping?

"Okay, Rick, take your own advice, and slow your breathing," he mumbled to himself. "Assess your surroundings. What's familiar? What's foreign? Are there any immediate threats?"

Rick grew up camping with his father. His Irish immigrant father was a huge survival nut. He taught Rick how to make shelters in all kinds of terrain, how to start fires in different ways, how to make a bow and arrows from scratch, flintknapping, etc. Everything someone would need to survive without modern technology in the wilderness. He had always wanted to teach Kyle the same, but Janice had been staunchly against it. Fuck you, Janice.

Jesus Christ. Twenty-two years. Together for twenty-four. If she had just told him from the start, he could have moved past it... But keeping him in the dark like that? Calling his wonderful, amazing, and kind daughter (because she will always be his daughter, no matter who the sperm donor was) a mistake? That he will never forgive. Hell, if they ever make it home, he's divorcing her.

During his pondering, Rick had been slowly making his way along the riverbank he awoke next to. Over the gurgling of the water, he could swear he heard what sounded like marching. No, that was definitely marching. People! Civilization!

Rick quickly made his way towards the sounds of the marching. In the back of his mind, he was cautious. Who knew who these people were? Who knew if they were friendly or dangerous? His overwhelming need to find his daughter outweighed all those worries though. This man would gladly face an army if it meant it helped him towards his goal. Kyle did call him a slytherpuff, after all.