I have returned from the dead! Maybe with this chapter finally out of the way, it'll be a little easier to write the next ones hopefully. Thank you to those who've kept up with this story despite my procrastination. To be honest, I want to go back and revise the older chapters, but I have a phobia of reading my old work, so hopefully you guys can deal with crappy writing then and now :)
Reviews, favorites, follows, and constructive criticism are welcome! Thanks again!
- xxFireAndIce
Three days.
The whole plan was probably a little extreme, Juliette admitted to herself. Every since she'd escaped the guard, she'd been in hiding. She even returned to the Sanctuary to have Jasper dye her hair to dirty blonde so no one could recognize her. Three days, she had said, would be long enough for the guards to become less aggressive in their hunt for her while keeping the Resistance from declaring she was dead or arrested. Her small camp outside of Millfields had shielded her from the chatty nobles who would no doubt report her if caught and from balverines that had a tendency to wander into the area. The entire time, she'd been worried about everyone. Had Logan found them? Would they see through her disguise?
Only one way to find out.
When the sun had finally risen from behind the trees, Juliette extinguished the campfire, pulled on her jacket, and began to head back to Bowerstone.
The journey back was uneventful. Gypsy and merchant caravans passed her on occasion, none of them offering her a ride. Thankfully, the disguise worked and no one observed her too closely. Once, another large gypsy caravan, overflowing with at least three families, passed by her. Two children, a boy nearing his teens, and younger girl, played beside it as it rolled along. They teased each other, not in a mean way, but lovingly. Brother and sister. Juliette felt a pang of envy at the two.
An hour passed. By the time she reached the city gates, dark grey clouds were drifting in. Juliette held her breath as she approached the guards posted outside. He looked her over swiftly before nodding. Once she was in the square, she finally let it out.
All that's left is to remind everyone I'm still alive. She told herself.
Juliette silently made her way through the markets, ignoring shouts from merchants vying for her attention and adapting to the stench of smoke from the factories. When she reached Industrial, she glanced up to see a poster hanging from one of Reaver's factories.
Wanted, it said in elegant bold letters. She couldn't help but giggle at the horrible imitation of her. Her exposed skin was covered in tattoos, her facial features were off, she wore no trace of makeup, and adorned the infamous ensemble of a highwayman. It amused her to think that that is what they assumed she was without bothering to pay attention.
Or. . . maybe Logan is trying to protect me? A little voice in the back of her head suggested. Immediately, she denied it. If he was, it was a stupid way of acting on it. Pulling a gun out on her, even if he wasn't going to shoot her and ordering guards after her wasn't exactly the best way to show brotherly concern.
She remembered a time before Logan was king. Before he didn't worry about taxes and revolts, but instead on learning, listening to their father's stories and dreaming about being a Hero. Where he wanted to adventure around and outside of Albion rather than be tied down with a throne and crown. She missed the boy who comforted her when their parents died and cared about her emotions.
It doesn't matter now, she scolded herself. Whatever Logan used to be is dead now. Power corrupts; all that's left of him is an icy shell.
Finally, she reached the entrance into the sewers. Juliette glanced around quickly for prying eyes before slipping into the bowels.
As she neared the base, Juliette readied her pistol. With one quick movement, she swung around the corner, cocking the gun at a waiting Kidd who gasped in surprise.
"We don't have to go through this again, do we?" She asked him.
Kidd lowered his rifle as he recognized Juliette, his gaping mouth turning into a smirk.
"Hmm. Clever." was all he said before he turned around and motioned to the other rebels to sheathe their weapons.
"Appreciated."
Juliette continued on to Page's map room. The metal door was wide open, and inside she saw Walter sitting at one of the desks, nursing his tankard, and Page reviewing papers scattered along the mountains and oceans of the map. She rapped her knuckles on the stone wall, drawing their attention. Both gaped at her before Walter sprung from his chair.
"Ha ha!" he laughed jovially and stomped over to her. "What did I tell you, Page? She'd find her way out even if it meant amputating an arm and leg!" Walter pulled Juliette into a crushing embrace.
"I admit I'm impressed," was all Page replied with, focusing her attention back on the documents.
Juliette let out a small, choked chuckle as Walter finally released her. Observing the room, she noticed someone was missing.
"Where's Ben?" she asked the two.
Walter's smile ceased and turned into a troubled frown. Page awkwardly shuffled her papers around in an attempt to look busy.
"What?" Juliette demanded.
"Well. . ." Walter began. He coughed as he tried to find a place to begin. "After you disappeared, Logan sent out a bulletin. Ben knows Swift is dead."
The memory of trying to save Swift's life resurfaced in Juliette's mind; her attempt to kill his executioner that had come a second too late, Logan's cold glare, and the despair that had flooded her.
Dammit, she thought. Poor Ben. . .
"He's been holed up in the Riveter's Rest since then. Some of the boys tried to talk him out of his tree, but he won't budge. I don't know if he's just drinking his sorrows away or plotting Logan's death. Probably both." Walter continued.
Pity filled Juliette. This damned revolution seemed to be bringing more grief than victory. With nearly six months gone by, the deaths seemed to be piling up. First Elliot. . . then Jammy, now Swift. She couldn't even begin to wonder how many else Logan had caught, or who'd died because of their pledge to her.
"Let me go talk to him," she offered.
Walter cocked an eyebrow. "Are you sure he'll even listen?"
"I've seen enough suffering since we left. Enough to know what he's going through." Juliette replied with a heavy tone. Understanding gleamed in Walter's eyes, along with apology.
"It doesn't matter," Page finally said. "Your little show in the courtyard has delayed us. We need to continue on with the plan. Just leave him be."
Juliette frowned and glanced over at Page. "Ben's as much a part of this revolution as you and I are."
"I don't see his drunken stupor being productive as of right now. Besides, I'd be more than happy to be rid of that itch."
Suddenly, Juliette's finger stabbed itself into Page's chest, and the angry woman stared deeply in Page's eyes.
"For Avo's sake! He's grieving, Page! How else would you react if Kidd or another one of the revolutionaries died under your watch?" She growled fiercely. "Ben might not have been the same leader as Major Swift, but obviously the major trusted Ben to lead the men in place of him for some reason. If you leave Ben out of this, I highly doubt the soldiers will follow you with the same respect they had for the two of them. I won't let you ruin our chances of success because of stupid childish grudges!"
Her heart raced with anger. Page's shocked eyes flashed with fire, and she opened her mouth to throw an argument back at Juliette when Walter suddenly placed a hand on her shoulder. Page looked at him, and Walter gave her a look that pleaded with her to trust the princess. Finally, Page took a step back.
"Fine, Juliette." Page said with a hostile tone. "Talk to him. I'll give you until tomorrow evening to convince him."
"Thank you, Page." Juliette muttered, spinning around towards the door.
"If he doesn't come around by then, we will leave without him." Page called after her, but Juliette was already out the door.
When Juliette walked into the pub, the sharp stench of bitter ale, vomit, and cheap perfume stung her nose. Sailors, factory workers, and lowlifes filled up the tables and booths, causing a labyrinth around them. In their drunken stupor, they called out raunchy remarks to her and the barmaids, who showed no objection to the comments. Juliette scanned the room, until finally her eye caught a mop of blonde hair in a lone booth in the corner. She weaved her way around, clumsily avoiding the dirty men and scattered chairs. Once she reached the table, she looked down at Ben.
His blonde hair was ruffled and dirty, and he wore the same clothes from Swift's execution, now stained with dirt, ale, and sweat. An abandoned tankard was wrapped in his hand.
"Ben?"
He didn't look up at her. Ben grumbled something incoherent and shoved the mug away.
"I already told you no. . ." he slurred. "Go ask one of the other sods, you wench. . ."
Juliette groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Ben, it's me." She tried again.
Finally, Ben looked at her. His stubble had grown more, she observed, and dark circles underlined his eyes. In his drunken state, he tried focusing on her, confused by her new appearance.
"Ju. . . Juliette?" He finally managed to say.
She nodded once and slid into the seat opposite of him. "Walter and Page told me you were here."
He didn't reply for a while, but eventually said, "I. . . thought you were dead or gone."
"No. There were. . . complications, and I had to stay hidden for a while, but I'm back now."
Ben twiddled his thumbs, "I still can't believe what you did. You tried to save Swift, and came damn close to death for it." His hand closed around the tankard's handle, and he lifted it toward his mouth. Juliette's hand shot up and grab it from him.
"Ben, you've been drinking that swill for three days. For the sake of the men, please stop."
Ben frowned and clenched his grip. "I lived in Bloodstone for years. This stuff's hardly as strong. Anyway, Swift's dead. The men don't need me to lead them. They have you."
His hard grasp pulled the mug back towards him, but Juliette's Hero strength manifested as she yanked it out of his hand, droplets of ale splattering her clothes.
"No, Ben." She argued in a firm but quiet voice. "You know the men better than I do. I don't know what makes them tick. I don't know how to command them on the battlefield. They need you. This revolution needs you."
"Bullshit!" His sudden outburst surprised her, and he stood up from the booth, heading outside. Juliette grumbled and followed swiftly, catching the door before it slammed shut. Outside the tavern, Ben leaned against the wall.
"I don't have the power to lead them. I wouldn't even be captain if the major himself hadn't recruited me. I can't lead hundreds of men, plan strategy, or even inspire them! I'm not like you." He admitted harshly.
And there it was.
He's. . . jealous? Juliette thought in shock.
"You don't really believe that, Ben." She said slowly, her fingers lightly touching his arm. Though it was meant as a consoling gesture, something felt. . . odd about it. As if it was offering the support of a friend, and. . . maybe more. It frightened her.
Ben noticed it too. He unfolded his arms and returned the gesture, cautiously and warmly. Apprehension filled Juliette.
"I can't be what you are. I don't want to be what you are." He murmured, leaning closer. Juliette's breath caught in her throat.
"All I want is you."
Ben's lips lingered near Juliette's mouth. Her heart was beginning to race.
"Ben. . ." She whispered, her hands coming up to his chest.
Her mind suddenly began chanting "No! No!". Juliette's hands began to push him away.
"Ben, no, please don't." She asked him, beginning to distance herself from him. Ben's face filled with confusion.
"I - Juliette -" He began.
"I'm sorry, I just. . ." Juliette stuttered, and suddenly she turned and fled. Her feet swiftened, and soon she was running towards the market. Little cold drops of rain splashed on her face, and soon a downpour came with them. For a while Juliette didn't know where she was going, until she finally stopped to catch her breath and found herself under the Bowerstone Bridge.
Dammit. Dammit! She scolded herself. She backed up into the wall and slid onto the gravel.
Why had she let this happen? How could she? He was drunk and she'd advanced on him, even if it hadn't been her intent! How could she be so stupid? I've probably screwed it all up, she thought. What am I going to say to him?
Even with all her mental self flagellation, something about what happened made Juliette wonder. Her heart had raced when he began to touch her, mostly out of apprehension. But it had for some other purpose too. She'd feared it, but at the same time. . . she'd wanted it.
But she couldn't. Even if she could, would she?
Juliette felt tears roll down her face. She looked across the river, towards the small garden. A translucent man stood there, his fine clothes bloody and his brown hair disheveled. His face was blank and he made no gesture to her, but slowly, he began to fade away.
I'm sorry, Elliot. . . Juliette apologized silently.