SECRETS OF SIROC Chapter Eight: We All Have Our Secrets
Jacqueline tossed in her bed. She couldn't get comfortable and therefore could not sleep. Her mind nagged at her, endlessly replaying the dramatic scene that had unfolded in front of her and the sight of the woman in the rain. She had questions and concerns, mostly stemming from the feeling that she knew who this woman was or at least should know. Not being able to place what was so familiar about Sancia frustrated Jacqueline.
Sancia Marcellus. At least Jacqueline had a face to put with the name that haunted her friend's dreams, forcing him to shed tears at the thought of her. She had a beautiful face too. Not even Sancia's disheveled state took away from beauty, her gentle features. It was the eyes that disturbed Jacqueline. She had seen those eyes before. She was certain of it, but where?
Jacqueline growled in frustration, smacked the bed with clenched fists and sat up. She had no hope of finding sleep this night. She fumbled in the dark for the flint next to her bed, finding it after groping at nothing for a few seconds, and lit the candle at her bedside. She climbed out from under her covers, shivering as her bare feet touched the cold floor. Her chest was unbound, covered only in a white linen shirt, and her hair was free, framing her face with perfect little curls and ringlets. She wore pants and a shirt to bed nightly, afraid to dress down too far even behind the locked door of her room.
She walked over to the small desk that set against the opposite wall from her bed and picked up a bundle that sat there. She stared at the square package that was wrapped in blue cloth, tied by string. It had been sitting on her desk since yesterday afternoon and she had completely forgotten to give it to Siroc. She had decided days before that when she got paid she would pick him up a few things for his lab, some new notebooks and several packages of herbs to restock the collection he had lost. It wasn't much, but it was something. She didn't like to see him so out of sorts and neither did the others. Ramon and d'Artagnan had some things for him as well, but after being in the laboratory that evening, they apparently hadn't given him their surprise. She set it back down on her desk as she smiled. Since she couldn't sleep, she would leave it for him now.
After taking a few minutes to bind her chest, tuck in her shirt and tie her hair, Jacqueline retrieved the parcel and crept quietly into the hallway in her stocking feet. The silence was eerie. It was rare that she moved about the garrison at this time of night. She traced the wall with her finger tips, having forgotten her candle in her room, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, making her way to Siroc's laboratory.
As she approached the door, she could see the light flickering into the passageway. Jacqueline paused, hesitant to intrude if Siroc was not alone. Jacqueline shrugged off the thought. It is the middle of the night and he isn't stupid enough to have her in the laboratory at this hour, she thought as she forced herself forward.
She pushed the door completely open with her free hand. Not one of the lamps was lit, she noted. The soft light that danced into the hallway was coming from the fireplace. Jacqueline sighed quietly and continued slowly into the large room. She peered from behind the newly resurrected shelves that blocked the view of the door from the fire. She had half expected to see her friend asleep at the table, but the room appeared to be empty. She tested each step, trying not to squeak the floor boards, and made her way to the table, setting the bundle down.
As she set the package down, she looked toward the fire and saw something she hadn't expected. Siroc sat on the hearth, his back against several bags of Jacqueline could only guess what. His legs were stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles and an open book in his lap. His right arm draped across his stomach with his left elbow resting on his wrist and his face resting on the knuckles of his left hand. Jacqueline couldn't tell if he was asleep but he appeared to be staring at the flames, oblivious to her presence.
Jacqueline stood watching for a moment. She didn't want to disturb her friend's thoughts, but if he was asleep, she didn't want to leave him like that either. She knew worrying about such things was a feminine concern, but, at the same time, even Duval had addressed a proper night's sleep with the cadets a time or two. Besides, Siroc would be far more comfortable in his bed. "Siroc," she said quietly as she moved toward him, deepening her voice as she customarily did. Siroc didn't say a word, but lowered his arm so that both were now crossed in front of him. His eyes never left the fire, but he was clearly awake. "It's late. You should get some sleep," she said, squatting down next to him.
He still did not look at her. But she could see part of his expressionless, slightly flushed face in the poor light. "What are you doing up?" he asked, his voice soft.
Jacqueline shifted her weight and let herself sit on the stone next to him. "I couldn't sleep so I thought I'd leave something for you. I meant to give it to you earlier but well…" She let her words trail off, shrugging, tilting her head slightly to one side, and flashing him a 'knowing' smile.
He closed his eyes and moved his head slightly away from the fire and down, sighing and holding his position for a moment. He bit his lip and lifted his head slowly, opening his eyes as his head came up. Jacqueline stifled a gasp as his eyes met hers. He looked tired and pained at the same time. But his expression was not what inspired the sudden intake of air. The nagging question that had plagued her all night finally had an answer.
"What's wrong?" Siroc asked, noting his friend's expression and finding it slightly confusing. He had been sitting in front of the fire since Sancia had left, thinking. The joy that had filled his heart had quickly faded to emptiness, a dark plague that ate at his soul. He wanted to help his sister, save her, protect her as he had always done. All of his ideas, inventions and he couldn't think of a single plan to free Sancia. Jacques' interruption was actually pleasantly welcomed. As much as he wanted to be alone, he needed something to distract him from his overwhelming thoughts.
"Nothing, I just realized something," she answered, faltering slightly as she tried to select her words. Siroc turned his head back toward the fire and Jacqueline was sure he was avoiding her gaze. "How long has it been since you last saw Sancia?" she asked, not wanting to yet reveal that she knew who she was to him.
He took an audible, deep breath and his face contorted slightly. "Four years, eleven months, fourteen days. Give or take a few hours," he said bitterly. He hated every day without Sancia and it seemed much longer than that to him. The years they had spent apart were the years that changed a child to an adult and he had missed everything that had made her the woman she was now, good and bad. He wondered if the feeling was the same for her.
Jacqueline raised her eyebrows and her mouth fell open. She was shocked that he had given her an exact time and at the amount of time that had passed since he had seen Sancia. "I take it you two were close," she observed as she shifted, bringing her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. He only nodded his head yes. "My brother and I were very close. There was a time that I couldn't imagine not having him around," she paused, debating whether to play her hand. "So I can imagine how you feel not seeing—" she stopped once more trying to discern something from his expression "—your sister in so long." Jacqueline winced, then leaned back, not sure how he would take her comment.
Siroc frowned at the thought of Jacques knowing, but there was nothing he could do about it now. "Sancia told you?" he asked, his tone even. It would be like Sancia to say something even if she had avoided such commentary in front of d'Artagnan and Ramon. Perhaps she hasn't changed, he thought. But again, he knew that wasn't true. She was different. Just with their brief encounter, he could see how serious she had become and how afraid she was. The zest she had for life had been squashed and fear controlled her tongue. Her eyes reflected pain instead of vibrancy and joy. All the hopes and dreams they had when they were children had shriveled and died. And the guilt Siroc felt from the knowledge of what Vesey had done to her was like a knife piercing his heart. His eyes blinked as he continued to watch the slowly dying flames.
"No," Jacqueline answered. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to decide how to tell him and still remain manly. After all, most men didn't notice another man's eyes. "I noticed a resemblance. I just assumed."
"Oh," he acknowledged, holding his stoic expression. He wasn't surprised by Jacques words. Siroc spent every day observing the world around him and trying to figure out how things worked and why they were. Why should he be the only person that ever noted the details? Besides, he and Sancia looked as much alike as any siblings could.
"Will she being staying long?" Jacqueline asked after about a minute of silence. Siroc did not seem to mind the quiet, but Jacqueline had started to feel uncomfortable. She had watched his unchanging face, noting sadness in his eyes. Even in the dim light, she could see the dark rings, the slight worry lines in his brow. It was strange to see him like this. He was usually reserved, but this felt different to Jacqueline.
"No. I'm sure she'll be leaving after the auction," he said sadly. He didn't want her to go, but that was the truth of it. Siroc had no power against a man like Vesey. The only power he had ever managed was the strength to run and keep running until his feet had brought him to Paris. But he would trade everything for her. She should be free. She should have been safe and happy, not worn down by years of abuse and scarred by wounds that would never heal. What killed him the most was how much she had changed. The knife in his heart twisted at the thought that if he couldn't free her, the sister he loved would be unrecognizable in just a few short years. But what could he do? She would leave and be gone from his life as quickly as she had reentered it. He needed a plan.
"Ramon and d'Artagnan told you?" Jacqueline asked as she touched her cheek to her knees but kept her fluttering eyes on her friend. The warmth of the fire was making her sleepy.
"Sancia told me actually," he answered after another long pause. His attention moved from the fire to the book in his lap. The page was open to a sketch of two children, one of many such sketches. He stared at the faces. It seemed like a lifetime ago that his father had sat in a chair, sketching in his notebook, as he and Sancia sat with their heads together reading.
Jacqueline looked down as he did at the yellow tinged paper. She was a little surprised to see a drawing. Siroc kept most of his personal notebooks to himself, and from what Jacqueline had noticed, they were usually a combination of writing and drawings of animals or some mechanical device. This was the first time she had seen just a sketch of people.
Jacqueline looked back up as Siroc closed the book. He was still looking down, eyes tightly shut. "Can you do something for me, Jacques?" he said, biting his lip again. The impassive expression he had held throughout their conversation was now replaced by one of fear and need.
"Sure," she said, stifling a yawn with her right hand. His expression didn't go unnoticed however. As their eyes locked, a chill shot through her body and the hair stood up on the back of her neck. The look on his face was unsettling and completely uncharacteristic. It sparked in her a new wave of concern.
"Cover for me tomorrow morning. I 'need' to get out for a while," he said. Siroc was adamant about leaving. He had planned to just sneak out before dawn and face the consequences when he returned. He would do it one way or another but it would be easier if he had a friend covering for him and next to him sat a friend. Jacques had proven that in the short time they had known each other. They were friends, despite Siroc's inability to trust him with the details of his youth. He didn't trust anyone with his history.
"I'll do my best, but what would you like me to tell the captain, d'Artagnan and Ramon?"
"Anything you can think of. I don't care," he told her before adding one more thought. "Just 'don't' mention my sister," he insisted. His eyes narrowed slightly as he spoke as if the piercing look would somehow engrave his words into Jacques mind.
It was painfully obvious to Jacqueline that whatever had separated them still haunted Siroc. He was hiding something from them. It was the only reason Jacqueline could think of that he didn't want anyone to know about Sancia. But he wasn't the only one hiding things. A woman disguised as a man, who was she to pry? "We all have our secrets, Siroc," she said as reassurance. She watched for a moment, debating whether to ask and ultimately deciding she would. "Are you all right?" She reached out, grasping his shoulder, as she spoke.
"I'm fine," he said, trying to sound convincing but the words came out slightly choked. He shrugged her hand away.
Jacqueline didn't comment on her words or his reaction to her touch. She tried to accept his reassurance, even as weak as it was. She yawned again. "Well, I'm going to go back to bed. Get some sleep yourself. All right?" Siroc nodded his head yes, but did not move, as Jacqueline stood, brushing herself off. She watched him for a moment and took a deep breath, weighing heavily what to say. 'Good night' didn't seem appropriate as an exit line when she wanted so badly to hug him again. Something reassuring would have to do. "Things will work out, Siroc. They always do."
He didn't comment, although he seriously doubted Jacques' words.
