AN: There are a few French sentences in this chapter, just giving you all fair warning. I tried to make it obvious what exactly they were talking about, but, if you are curious as to what exactly they're saying, translations are at the bottom. Also, don't worry, there won't be French all through this story, I just wanted to make the beginning feel as real as possible. Okay, I'm done. Happy Trails.
Unquestionably Alice
In Which Our Heroine Washes Up On A Beach And Causes General Confusion
It was damp and miserable duty to be stationed at Île d'Oléron in the beginnings of spring. Barely forty degrees outside, the wind was howling so fiercely that Edmund could barely stand upright and he had long since lost his hat. He was not looking forward to informing the Captain of that. He huddled back against the dank stone, reluctant to begin his routine walk around of the wall. Vaguely, he wished that Fort Bayard was still in use. At least then they wouldn't have to worry about any military secrets getting leaked and he could find a good warm place to curl up in. If the rain wasn't pounding into the sea, causing great plumes of ocean to burst into the air, then he could've seen the Island Fort from where he was standing. He struggled vainly to see into the night for a few minutes, delaying his inspection as long as he could.
His watch beeped, signaling the beginning of a new hour and he sighed before pushing himself off the wall and out from the slight overhang of the ceiling. He mourned his lost shelter but quickly realized it would be of no more use, seeing as the wind had increased it's ferocity and the rain was now coming down nearly horizontally.
A string of curses flew from his usually genteel mouth and he wrapped the standard plastic raincoat Captain had handed out around him. Though, it felt as if it had already outlasted it's use.
The wind tore past him, it's fingers working under the coat and sending torrents of rain into every crevice it could find. Edmund stomped through the rising water, peering over the stone wall for anything out of the ordinary. He did this every night and so far, he had seen nothing. Nothing except the ebbing sea and the stars. And now, Mother Nature's fury. And his temper was skyrocketing; challenging the awesome storm around him.
He spun on his heel, thoroughly pissed off he had guard duty tonight and thoroughly pissed off that he never experienced anything exciting- even though he had joined the military precisely for that reason. His eyes shifted to the sea, scowling, just a thick stream of lightning poured out of the sky. He stumbled and squinted against the stinging bullets of rain. He had been certain he had-
Another streak of lightning. Yes! Yes, he had seen something surging with the waves.
Or more accurately, a someone.
He hurried down the stone walkway and took the worn steps two at a time, his radio shielded underneath his hood,
"Le Capitaine?" He shouted over the rain.
"Oui privé?"
Edmund was now sprinting as fast as he could in the dank sand. He tried to keep his eyes trained on the body. The waves gave a mighty heave and the body was dragged underneath. Forgetting the Captain waiting on the other line, forgetting the raging storm all about him, he threw the radio from him and threw himself into the ocean.
If the figure had been any further out from the shore, Edmund surely would have been dragged into the thrashing sea as well. Luckily for him, the body was hardly thirty feet from shore and he was the best swimmer in his class. His arms wrapped around the torso and he struggled through the seething water to shore. The ocean seemed reluctant to let her prisoner go.
Edmund crawled onto shore, dragging the body with him. He scrabbled for the radio while simultaneousely searching for a pulse. The Captain's aggrivated voice rose from the speaker.
"Privé?"
"Privé!"
He felt his heart sink a little when he could feel no pulse. And then a determined gleam passed in his eyes.
"Capitaine! Il y avait un corps dans l'océan! Elle ne respire pas, j'ai besoin d'un médecin!" He dropped the walkie and began CPR on the lifeless woman.
"Un... Deux... Trois... Quatre..."
He hoped the medic would arrive soon. He wasn't exactly the best at CPR.
"Dix-sept... Nineteem... Dix-huit..."
Edmund nearly lost count when he realized that she could've been awash in the sea for days and that CPR might be fruitless. His efforts redoubled.
"Vingt à huit... Vingt à neuf... Trente!"
He bent and administered a steady, measured breath into her lungs. He stopped, waited, and exhaled again.
Over the raging storm, he could hear the frentic shouts of his backup. Edmund began his minstrations again.
The medic slid to a stop, spraying sand all over Edmund and the woman. Edmund was too focused to care. He breathed again, one... two...
He hesitated.
She coughed; Water rushing from between her lips. Her brows knit together in discomfort, but she did not wake. She, instead, began to shiver uncontrollably.
"L'hypothermie. Aidez-moi à l'emmener à la base." The medic yelled. Of course, Edmund thought, she's been in freezing water for more than ten minutes, and that was enough to give hypothermia to anyone. He hoisted her into his arms and followed the medic out of the storm and into the well lit, warm base.
The medic rushed both of them into the examination room and wrapped them both in heated towels. He began to rub the girl's arms vigorously, trying to coax blood back into them. Edmund absentmindedly rubbed his own arms, his attention focused on the girl he had just saved.
Now that he wasn't racing to save her life, he took the time to study the woman he had saved. She had long black hair, tangled and matted from the prying fingers of the sea. Her face was heart shaped, the features pixie like. A small spattering of freckles fell across the bridge of her nose, marring her otherwise pale complexion. Her bottom lip was fuller than the top, but with her features, it seemed more appealing than off-putting. And, even though she had been hauled from the ocean not ten minutes ago, she had an amiable curve to her lips.
She reminded him of someone he knew.
The medic's head snapped up and, in rapid French, requested that Edmund retrieve the Captain. Edmund nodded and stood, shivering slightly. He had, however, taken not one step before the door flew open and the Captain marched in.
Captain Fortier was formidable man. His eyes were shockingly green set against an attractive, cleanshaven face. His suit was crisp, each medal on his chest gleaming in the harsh light of the medical room. He stepped lightly into the room, his fierce eyes landing on each occupant. Edmund snapped into position, the towel sliding from his shoulders.
The Captain waved a hand vaguely in his direction and Edmund relaxed immediately. Edmund reached for the towel while the Captain walked to the side of the table. He spoke in low undertones to the medic and Edmund, though he was slightly ashamed of it, strained to hear their conversation. Fortier made a sudden movement and Edmund hastily leapt to his feet, towel in hand. But, the Captain did not turn to look at him. Instead, he observed the girl on the table with a calculating stare.
"Edmund."
"Oui, Captaine?"
"Avez-vous recherché la fille?" Edmund blinked slowly. Search the girl? Why would he need to search a nearly dead girl from the ocean?
"Non."
"Faites-le maintenant." Edmund dropped his towel and sprang forward. He glanced apprehensively at her calm face and began to gently frisk her. The medic, after a slight hesitation, hoisted the girl into a sitting position. Edmund nodded his thanks and worked his way down her spine, seaching for a holster. He felt that, ultimately, this was pointless. Why would a woman dumped into the sea be carrying?
His hand brushed against something hard tucked in the back of her jeans. Edmund stopped suddenly, knowing the feel and texture.
"Edmund?" Edmund swallowed and reluctantly pulled the gun from the waistband of her jeans. The room fell into an uneasy silence as Edmund stared in blatant shock at the gun.
The Captian took the the gun from Edmund and ran his hands over the handle, his face impassive. He turned the weapon over in his hands and let out a soft curse. Edmund started, and peered over his Captain's shoulder,
"La croix des révolutionnaires!" The medic gasped and the woman slipped from his arms. A metallic clink echoed around the room as the woman hit the table. All three men stared at the table where a pocketwatch had fallen open and face down. It was a most peculiar looking pocketwatch; strange red gold designs intwined together on a silver background. It's silver chain coiled around a section of the woman's coat, somehow still attached after its bout in the sea. And, on the back over, deeply gouged, were words. Edmund shifted closer and squinted at the gleaming metal.
"It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards."
The three of them looked at each, confusion apparent in each face. Captain Fortier scoffed and muttered under his breath for a moment before reaching out to the pocket watch. And as the very tip of his finger grazed the rough words, the woman's eyes opened.
She stared, wide eyed at them and then her gaze traveled down the Captain's arm to his fingers to the watch that had fallen out of the folds of her coat. Quicker than any of them expected, she snatched the watch from the Captain's fingers and scrambled off the table.
"NO!" Her voice echoed around the sterile room, a shrieking, agonizing sound. The Captain reached out slowly to her,
"Madame, s'il vous plaît calmer." His voice was gentle and soft, coaxing. Her terrified eyes slid from his outstretched hand to the pocketwatch and they grew wider. She started to shake her head from side to side.
"No. Aucun. Nein. Ne." She stated firmly, repeating those four no's over and over again.
Edmund was flabbergasted. How many languages had she just rattled off? It was hard enough to learn one. Captain Fortier was, likewise, shocked; however, he remained genteel.
"Madame. Je will not take ze watch from you." It was slightly broken English, but it seemed to sink in. Her chanting ceased to mutterings and she eyed each of them suspiciously. The Captain gestured to the table where the gun lay gleaming evilly in the white room.
"Madame? Ze gun? Does it belong to you?" She glanced at the mass of steel and shut her eyes tightly, her lips moving silently.
"Madame?"
Fortier sighed.
"Edmund, l'emmener dans une cellule." Edmund nodded slowly and reached for the girl's wrist. To his surprise, she did not resist his touch and followed him willingly out of the room, the watch clutched to her chest. He led her through the base and to the barred single cells. She drifted through the open door and into the small room with no prodding or coaxing. Her eyes still tightly shut, she felt her way across the cell and slid into the furthest corner and remained there for quite some time.
Translations are as follows:
Le Capitaine- Captain
Oui- Yes
Privé- Private
Aidez- Moi à l'emmener à la base- Hypothermia. Help me get her to the base.
Avez- Vous fille de recherche?- Did you search the girl?
Non- No
Faites- Le maintenant- Do it now.
La croix des révolutionnaires- The cross of the rebels
L'emmener à une cellule- Take her to a cell.