(A/N: This is a scene that could happen, at some point in time, at some point in space, during Jacky's lifespan. Which, depending on the final books, could be a very short time indeed.)

A Scene That Could Be

I don't remember much about the first time I saw Rooster Charlie. But it was probably a day with lots of sun and perhaps some birds and a good bar fight going on nearby—he loved to jump into those. When I think about it, which I usually don't on account of my heart always sinks when I do, that's how I picture that day. I never pictured it any other way. I'm never going to.

So today, when it actually is a sunny day and there are some birds (some being not a lot and not a little) and a good bar fight is brewing right next to where I'm standing—well, it catches me off guard, is all. One minute I'm walking down the road trying to pay attention while darling Jaimy and darling Clarissa argue about something small. The minute after that, I'm standing completely still and they pass me.

They must not have meant to do it. Or Jaimy didn't at least, because he comes back a minute later with this worried look on his face I don't even notice at first. I'm too busy looking at the tavern in front us. There are voices coming out it, yells, and I swear one of those voices sounds about Charlie's age. The age Charlie was.

"Jacky?" There's a hand on my arm, and when I look over I realize Jaimy's fingers are cold on my skin. His bottom lip is frowning just a little bit, and he tries to see what I was looking at. But he don't see it, no, only I do, and maybe Charlie too, if he's watching from Heaven.

I shake my head. My hairs flops around me a bit and then settles almost over my eyes; any other time I'd be pretty happy to see that it's growing back. "I was just thinking, was all. I'm fine."

"When you get to thinking, Jacky Faber..." Jaimy takes my hand and laughs, but it doesn't register with me that he said anything funny. I laugh though, kind of late, just to make him feel better. When we catch up with Clarissa, who's finally stopped, all three of us get to walking again.

When I get to thinking, it does not bode well for my enemies. I knew that was what Jaimy was going to say because I've heard other people say it, and that line is probably sitting around in one of Amy's books anyway. Thinking about those books gets me off of thinking about Charlie, so I do it. It doesn't make me feel any better, but I do it.

I try to start up a conversation. "So Clarissa, have you heard anything from Mistress Pimm? How's the school doing, and all that? Are the girls finally learning how to handle weapons in case there's another big adventure?"

"Oh yes," she says. "Mistress Pimm has started a class just for the art of disemboweling a grown man. I find it quite fascinating, but the servants perpetually feel the need to complain about cleaning the blood from the floors. She requires all her students to refer to her as Miranda now as well."

It takes me a moment to realize she is joking. And also that Mistress Pimm has a first name.

Clarissa shakes her head, Jaimy pats my shoulder, and I'm caught on what to do because laughing doesn't seem quite right. The moments are few and far between when no words can come out of my mouth. I've heard that said about me too.

Clarissa gives me a long look, then narrows her eyes at Jaimy. "James, Jacky is probably just suffering from this horrid January Boston heat. She's having a spell. I think we should all rest in the shade—find us somewhere to have a drink, won't you?"

There is a pause where I know they're giving each other the hard eye, and then Jaimy comes in front of me. He asks if I'll be all right, or something to that extent, and I think I nod and somehow I don't fall over when he lets go of my shoulders. A moment later I see he's disappeared into a tavern nearby, probably to check around it and make sure it's safe for us fragile women. That gives me a little snort. A very little one.

Clarissa grabs my arm and yanks it, to my surprise, in the opposite direction. "Come on." Her voice is clipped. I look down and see dust rising up around her ankles, and think to myself that she really is a force to be reckoned with if even the dirt is running away from her. "He'll come back soon, so there's not much time to talk."

We stop just behind another building, not far away, but I know it's out of sight. "Talk about what?"

Clarissa places a very long-nailed and bony finger to the middle of my forehead. I think I almost go cross-eyed trying to look at it. "I'm not quite as slow as your James Fletcher. Ten minutes ago you were quieter than usual, but fine, and then you stop walking, and now you're quieter than usual and obviously not fine." She pushes me back with that finger.

I lean against a wall and put on my Weary Old Lady look, which I find is generally opposite the Look. "I'm just a bit tired, as all. Once we get back to the inn I'll find myself in better spirits, I'm sure of it. Especially if I can wrangle a free bottle of opium from the owner--"

"This has nothing to do with opium or with you being tired, Jacky Faber." Clarissa perched herself on the edge of a large barrel of what looked to be ale, but what was more likely dirty water with a little bit of alcohol in it. This wasn't a very high-class tavern, after all, and the one Jaimy had gone into probably wasn't any better.

"You're not going to answer me?" Clarissa asked.

I'd forgotten about her. "No, I was just thinking." I tapped my heels together and debated whether or not to tell her about Charlie. It wasn't any big secret really, and in fact it was nothing. So I took a deep breath and then I said, "All right, well when I was kind of small, I was part of this gang, and there was this boy with really red hair and he was like a brother to me and--"

Clarissa held up a hand. "Rooster Charlie. Isn't he?"

I stared at her.

She gave a small laugh, high-pitched, that sent a ripple through all the hairs on my head. "What?" she said. "You think I didn't read your book?"