"Jack?"
Emilia nearly bolted from where she sat, but the weight of the Daring- her former- the American- JACK, resting on her lap, kept her put. She stared into the darkness of the lab, absently stroking his head; more for her own comfort than his. Why was he here, ten thousand miles from home, back to the island he had vowed never to set foot on again? What had happened to him, Emilia wondered, noting again the scars and white sideburns. Certainly Jack was a bit older than she was, but this hardly looked like signs of natural aging. Her mind ran through possible conclusions, shivering at each one.
Restless, Emilia carefully moved from under Jack, straining to lever him onto the cot that had been his home, from what she could understand, for the past year. She removed his boots and suspenders, and ran upstairs for a heavier blanket. He was alive, but with his current blood loss and obvious poor nutrition, the cold of the lab could undo the hard work she had just done. And damned it all, she wasn't going to let Jack Stiles die, definitely not until she had some answers.
But it was pointless to simply wait here, torturing herself over what could have brought the American spy back to Palau Palau. Emilia busied herself with directing the dock workers coming with the few crates of personal gear she brought from England, and undoing six years of neglect around the house. Surprisingly, nearly everything was still in its place- nothing broken, nothing stolen- by native or French thieves. She wondered absently if Jack had a hand in it.
It was during this sweep of the house, a broken window latch in the second floor bathroom caught her eye. Scratches in the paint on the shudders and a small spot of blood on the inner windowsill confirmed her suspicions; this was where Jack entered the house. The foliage on this side of the house was dense, and the second floor meant his break-in was less likely to be noticed. It still didn't answer the question of why, though. She sighed, and began the descent back down to the lab.
It was another several hours before her patient opened his eyes. Tired herself, Emilia almost missed the slow fluttering of his eyelids against the light of the lanterns. She couldn't miss the action that followed if she tried, though, for he shot up at once, staring at his bedside visitor with a look akin to a frightened animal. Before the English spy could even try and stop him, her former partner attempted to escape from his sickbed, scrambling out of her grasp. He collapsed back down quickly, however, as his injured arm gave out below him, allowing her to firmly grasp his shoulders and force him to look at her. "Jack, Jack! It's Emilia! I'm not going to hurt you, I promise! Calm down!"
Slowly, the feral fear that infected the injured spy dissipated with ragged breaths. Gulping for air, he stared at her, as if to determine if she was friend or foe. "Did you tell them? About me?" His voice was raw and scratchy- she wondered if he had even spoken to a soul since reaching the island.
"Jack, no one knows you're here except me. God, Jack, what's happen to you?" Emilia lessened her grip, gently cupping the poor man's cheek. "What in God's name happened to you?"
Jack breathed, as if to speak, and looked away. "I..., ah...I..." He looked at her, and it was if a dam broke inside him. She held him, rocking the poor broken man gently as he choked on his own tears.
It was only later that she realized, her own face damp with tears of sympathy, this was the first time she had seen him cry.
It was almost night when Jack finally had worn himself out, allowing Emilia to wash his face with a hot towel and make him a cup of chamomile tea. Settling in to a chair next to a small brazier she brought from upstairs, she waited quietly for him to start.
"They called me a traitor."
"Who did, Jack?"
"They did. The government, the politicians- hell, some of the people I thought were my friends did! I spend my whole life giving my all for my country and they don't even give a damn! Show how much loyalty is worth to people nowadays...."
"I'm sorry, Jack, if my country hadn't insisted..."
"It's not your fault, Em. They just needed an excuse. If they really thought me a traitor, they would have arrested me as soon as I got off the boat home. It wasn't until everything went back to hell in 1810, they went after me....God damned War Hawks...They needed a scapegoat. So good old Jack, he worked with the British! They wanted me to admit to telling the British our trade routes, to rally the people against the embargo."
"Oh, Jack, I'm sorry... I have to admit my government accused me of the same thing..."
Jack scowled and looked away. "They didn't even accuse me- they TOLD me to admit it. I refused, of course. I didn't spend six years in the middle of nowhere to go blabbering off over tea! I may be a coward, an idiot, and a fool...."
"...But you're loyal to a fault. I wasn't your partner for six years for nothing, Jack." Emilia smiled softly at the long standing joke between them.
Jack smiled, then winced at the memories. "Em, I wish you could have told them that... They tried to make me, then got it into they're heads they were right, and I really was a double agent. They threw me in prison...then they tried to get information about my dealings...I told them what I knew already...but they kept going, and going...t-they, oh god, Em, they..."
"Shh, Jack. It's ok. I understand." Emilia placed a finger on his lips, and hid the shiver that ran up her spine. She understood now why his temples had gone white- not from age but what he had been through. They had tortured one of their own to try and start a war. Any respect she had for the American governing system vanished. Any fool could see Jack was willing to die for his country, and they repaid him like this!
He squeezed her hand reassuringly, a soft bitter smile on his lips. "I never did break, in the end. Jefferson still had a few favors left, and had me smuggled out to Florida. I could never go back to America, my home, my friends, my family. I didn't know what to do anymore...I just drifted from port to port. After a year a ship made a supply stop here. I remembered what it was like to care about something- to fight for a cause. So I snuck off, and found out you were in England again, and decided to stay. It helps, you know, to keep the numbness away, fighting for a cause again..."
"But why didn't you tell anyone? Most of our contacts are still here, they would have been glad to supply you with better accommodations, or some proper food! Hell, Jack, if I hadn't come back, you probably would have died! Why," Emilia stopped, realization hitting her, "That's what you wanted, wasn't it? Oh, Jack..."
He didn't respond, but she knew she was right. They both sat in silence, unsure how to proceed with such knowledge laid bare. Absently she traced the grooves and bumps of this scars. Changing the subject, she touched the scar tissue around his left eye. "This...isn't as old as most of the others. I'm surprised you can still see. What happened there?"
"A ship I was on got attacked by Chinese pirates. They tried to set fire to the sails with long torches. A sailor killed one of the torchbearers as I was underneath. It's a bit blurry when I'm tired, but it's ok."
Emilia smiled softly, then put on her best 'science' face. "Actually, I've been working with several eastern remedies lately, and I think I might be able to fix some of that damage, if you let me."
Jack smiled. Soon they were exchanging what else had happened in the six years since they last spoke, carefully treading around their own pains and the last bitter argument they had had. Jack was visibly relieved at the news that the war was nearly finished, and that Napoleon was on the retreat. For a short while, he almost seemed like his old self.
Finally, Jack drifted off, the blood loss and emotional turmoil taking its toll on his fragile grip of consciousness. Emilia pulled up the comforter she had brought from chest upstairs, watching as Jack shifted under the warmth. Tracing his jaw line before softly kissing his forehead, she began to formulate a plan to save her friend from the hell of self-exile.
Emilia nearly bolted from where she sat, but the weight of the Daring- her former- the American- JACK, resting on her lap, kept her put. She stared into the darkness of the lab, absently stroking his head; more for her own comfort than his. Why was he here, ten thousand miles from home, back to the island he had vowed never to set foot on again? What had happened to him, Emilia wondered, noting again the scars and white sideburns. Certainly Jack was a bit older than she was, but this hardly looked like signs of natural aging. Her mind ran through possible conclusions, shivering at each one.
Restless, Emilia carefully moved from under Jack, straining to lever him onto the cot that had been his home, from what she could understand, for the past year. She removed his boots and suspenders, and ran upstairs for a heavier blanket. He was alive, but with his current blood loss and obvious poor nutrition, the cold of the lab could undo the hard work she had just done. And damned it all, she wasn't going to let Jack Stiles die, definitely not until she had some answers.
But it was pointless to simply wait here, torturing herself over what could have brought the American spy back to Palau Palau. Emilia busied herself with directing the dock workers coming with the few crates of personal gear she brought from England, and undoing six years of neglect around the house. Surprisingly, nearly everything was still in its place- nothing broken, nothing stolen- by native or French thieves. She wondered absently if Jack had a hand in it.
It was during this sweep of the house, a broken window latch in the second floor bathroom caught her eye. Scratches in the paint on the shudders and a small spot of blood on the inner windowsill confirmed her suspicions; this was where Jack entered the house. The foliage on this side of the house was dense, and the second floor meant his break-in was less likely to be noticed. It still didn't answer the question of why, though. She sighed, and began the descent back down to the lab.
It was another several hours before her patient opened his eyes. Tired herself, Emilia almost missed the slow fluttering of his eyelids against the light of the lanterns. She couldn't miss the action that followed if she tried, though, for he shot up at once, staring at his bedside visitor with a look akin to a frightened animal. Before the English spy could even try and stop him, her former partner attempted to escape from his sickbed, scrambling out of her grasp. He collapsed back down quickly, however, as his injured arm gave out below him, allowing her to firmly grasp his shoulders and force him to look at her. "Jack, Jack! It's Emilia! I'm not going to hurt you, I promise! Calm down!"
Slowly, the feral fear that infected the injured spy dissipated with ragged breaths. Gulping for air, he stared at her, as if to determine if she was friend or foe. "Did you tell them? About me?" His voice was raw and scratchy- she wondered if he had even spoken to a soul since reaching the island.
"Jack, no one knows you're here except me. God, Jack, what's happen to you?" Emilia lessened her grip, gently cupping the poor man's cheek. "What in God's name happened to you?"
Jack breathed, as if to speak, and looked away. "I..., ah...I..." He looked at her, and it was if a dam broke inside him. She held him, rocking the poor broken man gently as he choked on his own tears.
It was only later that she realized, her own face damp with tears of sympathy, this was the first time she had seen him cry.
It was almost night when Jack finally had worn himself out, allowing Emilia to wash his face with a hot towel and make him a cup of chamomile tea. Settling in to a chair next to a small brazier she brought from upstairs, she waited quietly for him to start.
"They called me a traitor."
"Who did, Jack?"
"They did. The government, the politicians- hell, some of the people I thought were my friends did! I spend my whole life giving my all for my country and they don't even give a damn! Show how much loyalty is worth to people nowadays...."
"I'm sorry, Jack, if my country hadn't insisted..."
"It's not your fault, Em. They just needed an excuse. If they really thought me a traitor, they would have arrested me as soon as I got off the boat home. It wasn't until everything went back to hell in 1810, they went after me....God damned War Hawks...They needed a scapegoat. So good old Jack, he worked with the British! They wanted me to admit to telling the British our trade routes, to rally the people against the embargo."
"Oh, Jack, I'm sorry... I have to admit my government accused me of the same thing..."
Jack scowled and looked away. "They didn't even accuse me- they TOLD me to admit it. I refused, of course. I didn't spend six years in the middle of nowhere to go blabbering off over tea! I may be a coward, an idiot, and a fool...."
"...But you're loyal to a fault. I wasn't your partner for six years for nothing, Jack." Emilia smiled softly at the long standing joke between them.
Jack smiled, then winced at the memories. "Em, I wish you could have told them that... They tried to make me, then got it into they're heads they were right, and I really was a double agent. They threw me in prison...then they tried to get information about my dealings...I told them what I knew already...but they kept going, and going...t-they, oh god, Em, they..."
"Shh, Jack. It's ok. I understand." Emilia placed a finger on his lips, and hid the shiver that ran up her spine. She understood now why his temples had gone white- not from age but what he had been through. They had tortured one of their own to try and start a war. Any respect she had for the American governing system vanished. Any fool could see Jack was willing to die for his country, and they repaid him like this!
He squeezed her hand reassuringly, a soft bitter smile on his lips. "I never did break, in the end. Jefferson still had a few favors left, and had me smuggled out to Florida. I could never go back to America, my home, my friends, my family. I didn't know what to do anymore...I just drifted from port to port. After a year a ship made a supply stop here. I remembered what it was like to care about something- to fight for a cause. So I snuck off, and found out you were in England again, and decided to stay. It helps, you know, to keep the numbness away, fighting for a cause again..."
"But why didn't you tell anyone? Most of our contacts are still here, they would have been glad to supply you with better accommodations, or some proper food! Hell, Jack, if I hadn't come back, you probably would have died! Why," Emilia stopped, realization hitting her, "That's what you wanted, wasn't it? Oh, Jack..."
He didn't respond, but she knew she was right. They both sat in silence, unsure how to proceed with such knowledge laid bare. Absently she traced the grooves and bumps of this scars. Changing the subject, she touched the scar tissue around his left eye. "This...isn't as old as most of the others. I'm surprised you can still see. What happened there?"
"A ship I was on got attacked by Chinese pirates. They tried to set fire to the sails with long torches. A sailor killed one of the torchbearers as I was underneath. It's a bit blurry when I'm tired, but it's ok."
Emilia smiled softly, then put on her best 'science' face. "Actually, I've been working with several eastern remedies lately, and I think I might be able to fix some of that damage, if you let me."
Jack smiled. Soon they were exchanging what else had happened in the six years since they last spoke, carefully treading around their own pains and the last bitter argument they had had. Jack was visibly relieved at the news that the war was nearly finished, and that Napoleon was on the retreat. For a short while, he almost seemed like his old self.
Finally, Jack drifted off, the blood loss and emotional turmoil taking its toll on his fragile grip of consciousness. Emilia pulled up the comforter she had brought from chest upstairs, watching as Jack shifted under the warmth. Tracing his jaw line before softly kissing his forehead, she began to formulate a plan to save her friend from the hell of self-exile.