Chapter 2:
Wallowing in self-pity was not something he was accustomed to doing. The loss of a patient, the grating of a mistake could never fully be savored in its emotional rawness before another emergency was immediately thrown in his lap. It was a vicious cycle of hard-work, no reward, hard-work, no reward, but at least he had been the one in control. Now, as he stared unblinking at the dirt, he was numb to the world around him, save for the one feeling he had been able to keep at bay for the twenty long years since his father's lesson on choice. But even if he had not allowed himself that privilege, he had the strongest suspicion this was what it would have felt like.
"Great, Doc. Next time you decide to lead us on a tour of Hell's jungle by a murderous traitor, some concern for our consent would be nice."
At least one person wasn't afraid to still point fingers.
Rather than honor the comment with another retort, Jack's eyes barely moved from their constant stare at the flickering shadow of the guard stationed just outside their hut. Shifting his weight to ease the burning pressure in his knees, he winced at the cracking in his back and the sting of blood rushing towards his half-sleep legs. His arms were past the point of feeling from the odd angle that they were wrapped and secure around a wooden pole against his back. If he was feeling this stiff and sore after several hours of captivity, that guard must be frozen solid. Jack could swear he hadn't moved since taking up his sentry duty. Before he could consider the oddity of stationing one guard to two prisoners, the slow Southern drawl interrupted the silence once again.
"I sure hope you're all clammed up 'cuz your collegiate brain over there is thinkin' up some master escape plan and it ain't just that Puss In Boots got a hold of your tongue," Sawyer sneered. He waited for a second, watching the other man absorb the biting remark with all the patience of a saint—again, no response.
Interesting, he mused. Jacko seems to have learned the finer points of anger management. Well, let's see if he can keep his personal feelings out of this.
"She in on it? Or is she in the dark about this too?"
At last, Jack's head snapped up and Sawyer could only see what he'd describe as jealous confusion in his firelit hazel eyes. His forehead crunched into the three deep lines that seemed to be mandatory whenever she was brought up between them and Sawyer felt his own brow scrunch back.
"Yeah, I saw it Doc," he spat, voice low and menacing. "Wasn't hard to see you two spouting your dying confessions to each other…"
"I know what I'm doing," Jack snapped, feeling like the fuse to his temper was being tickled by a flickering lighter. "You just make sure you don't get her in any trouble by aggravating our friends."
There was an edge to his voice Sawyer hadn't heard before, one bordering on outright aggression. Sawyer's eyebrows raised in slight amused surprise. If he wasn't mistaken, good old hero just threatened him for the first time over Freckles.
Sawyer glanced over at the shadow on the ground that had Jack fixated so intently. He thought about returning the threat, but for once decided holding his tongue was better. After all, Zeke was probably listening to every word between the two.
Jack silently thanked whatever God there was that Sawyer didn't reply. He hadn't lied; he had a plan of some sort. That defiant thought didn't ease his discomfort any. He had been so sure they would be held prisoner together and it made him more nervous and edgy that Kate had been separated from them.
What did that mean? Was she being treated the same? Better? Worse? What if she had a reaction to the sedative? What if she was hurt? What if she was scared? Why couldn't he be there for her? What had he gotten them all in to?
His mind was spinning from everything and he could feel the stiffness settling itself in his back. But with bound hands and a lone guard outside, there was little Jack could do. Self-pity slipped mindlessly back into the hut as silence enveloped both captives until morning.