I've been on vacation for the last two weeks (in Alaska no less), so I couldn't update for a while. That was in August/Early September. Now I'm neck deep in homework. I'm so sorry. I hope you like the next bit!

Thank you to my reviewers! I hope you like the next chapter.

A/N: I own nothing.

A/N II: I take that back. I own Jack. And the horses. And the plot. And that's about it.

Chapter 2 – Musings

Northumberland

Jack, muttering under her breath, shut up Hades in his stall, ignoring the horse's snorts and whinnies of complaint. Clearly, the race had not been enough exercise. Sitting on a charred crate, Jack propped her legs up against the barn door, and tried to think of more pleasant things than admitting defeat to that insufferable Quinn. Like tying him up and force-feeding him Hades' bit and bridle. She would have imagined more horrid things to give him, but the bit and bridle were the only useless things available at this moment. Everything else was needed and in short supply. Even food.

Absentmindedly, she fingered her silver ID bracelet, the only physical reminder of her family and old life. Jacqueline Rosamund Desidère, the inscription read. On the other side, With love, Mum and Papa. She thought back to the day, years ago, in 2000, when she had heard her hometown had gone up in flames, with no survivors. It had been while she was in Northumberland, visiting an aunt. Not wanting send a six year old to a pile of ashes that had once been her home and family, her aunt had raised her, hoping and praying the dragons would not come, living in fear every day. But come they did, and 15 years found Jack alone, hopeless, and desperate. That's when she found out about the castle, and the small community struggling for survival. She remembered dragging herself, broken arm, burns and all, into the castle, and pounding on the door with all the strength she could gather. That was three years ago. Now, at 24, Jack felt like an old woman. She barely recollected her family. All she could remember is her father's musical French accent when he spoke English, and her mother's red hair. Jack did have her mother's hair, in a sense, but while her mother's was so light it was almost blond, Jack's was the colour of autumn leaves, dark and bright.

Jack's thoughts turned back to Quinn. Condescending, unbearable, irritating Quinn who never failed to rub her the wrong way. Even though he was six years older than her, when he was provoking Jack he acted like an annoying younger brother. The most infuriating thing was that almost everyone else in the castle thought he was some sort of saint. She actually understood why; it wasn't hard to see what Quinn does for the community. Responsible for the lives of almost 300 people, having to be self-sufficient in every way, making difficult decisions, Quinn was almost a martyr in putting others first. The fact that he was half the age, or even less, of some of the people he led made him more serious and somber. She supposed that annoying her and having a drink with Creedy were his only outlets. But that didn't stop her from loathing him. All the other women didn't understand it. Whenever Jack stomped into the bunks or kitchen, gritting her teeth and seething about Quinn's latest escapades, the older women would just chuckle and exchange looks, or ignore her. Quinn was like a son to them, and like most mothers, blind to his flaws.

Realizing that her legs were falling asleep, she sighed and stood up, wincing as the blood started to flow. Not angry anymore, she stretched and headed off in the general direction of the castle, hoping to avoid Quinn for the rest of the day.

Abandoned warehouse, Southwest coast of Portugal

Alex stared at the flames crackling in the metal barrel, and looked up to see Van Zan walk over with two steaming mugs. After offering her one, he sat down and gazed into the fire silently, deep in thought. Alex, familiar with Van Zan's behaviours and habits, sat patiently, waiting for him to open up. She knew what the last eight years had done to him. Though he'd never been a charismatic and lively man, compared to his personality now, the man who'd handpicked her from flight school had been downright playful. Barely out of flight school himself, he'd been on the fast track up the ladder since there was such a shortage of commanders with skill. Each new country to aid, dragon to slay, and each man he'd lost had only made Van Zan retreat into himself even deeper. Even though Alex was the only one he confided in, per se, she had barely scratched the surface of his character.

She'd barely taken a sip when he spoke. Alex was surprised, but relieved. She knew that Van Zan took much longer to unclench his jaw, and it was a grueling process to pry him open.

"What happened out there?" Van Zan asked hesitantly. "Everything was going according to plan. So why did we lose Zeke and Sam?" Clenching his jaw, he looked at his powerful hands tightly gripping the dull metal mug. When Van Zan looked up into Alex's face, she was startled to discover the pent up guilt in his tragic blue eyes.

Acting braver than she felt, Alex reached with a shaking hand towards Van Zan's bare forearm, and gently traced a line of his large tattoo. She'd seen the majority of it before, stretching across both shoulders from each arm and crawling around his chest, and she knew that each curl, each line, each stroke represented Van Zan. It was his past, his present, and his future, looking, but not really disconnected from each other.

"It wasn't your fault Van Zan" Alex said, hoping that her heartbeat wasn't as loud to him as it was to her. "No one, especially you, had any idea that she was going to turn around and attack the truck. Zeke and Sam were good men. Men who knew what they were risking when they volunteered to come with us. It was their decision, and theirs only to make. You led them well, but the rest was up to them."

Not responding, Van Zan kept staring into the fire, his face unreadable, his beautiful blue eyes that made Alex's heart skip beats clouded, mysterious. After an eternity of staring into the fire, he stood up abruptly and left without a word, leaving behind a discouraged and hurt Alex.

Please Review. Please? Don't make me beg… wait. I'm already begging. Meh. Whatever. Please? Also, please tell me if my chapters are too short. I just usually stop when it feels right, but maybe I should do what some of the other authors do and put several mini-chapters together. Any feedback is welcome.