"It's so many miles and so long since I left you, don't even know what I'll find when I get to you. But suddenly now, I know where I belong: it's many hundred miles and it won't be long." –Feist and Ben Gibbard, "Train Song"
-o-
It was freezing cold on the Aquila during the return trip that lasted from December through February. Sometimes it snowed, and anyone who wasn't actively keeping the ship afloat huddled in the galley around weak gas lanterns. The washed-out world of winter grays did nothing for the crew's mood. Furie roamed the deck, unaffected by the biting winds, and proved hard to train into loyalty. Once, he ripped a poor bloke's trousers right off because there was a bit of dried meat in his back pocket. Needless to say, Furie was confined to the galley for the rest of the journey.
Jacqueline was kept warm by the fur that lined some of her robes, and she stayed bundled in her room as often as possible. The three months back to the Colonies felt like the second-longest three months of her life, right next to her first stowaway voyage.
A couple weeks before arrival, she was sitting in her cabin, her knees to her chest, and her cloak pulled around her. The puffy fur around the hood sat around her face like a cushioned halo. Furie was curled up beside her, chewing on a piece of rawhide.
"You'll like Connor, Furie." Jacqueline's breath made a plume of fog in the air. "He's very kind to animals, and people. Most everyone, in fact. You be nice to him back, now, you hear?"
"Does that beastie only understand French?" Thomas knocked on her open door and stepped in with a bottle of rum in hand.
"So far as I can tell, yes. What's that?"
"Thought ye'd like a bit of a pick-me-up." The lookout handed the bottle over.
"Shouldn't you be in the nest? We pay you for something, don't we?" Jacqueline took a nip from the bottle and handed it back. She shivered at the fire it sent down her throat to warm her freezing fingers. "Ooh! That's good. Are you glad to be going home?"
"Aye! Met myself a bonnie lass back in New York." He patted his chest proudly and rolled his eyes. "Not a snowball's chance in Hell she's waited fer me. But that Connor," He snorted and took another drink. "Lass, he'd wait fer ya 'till the bloody Lord Saviour Himself came down from Heaven."
They both crossed themselves at the blasphemy. "At this point, I'm sure it's because I'm the only woman he knows." Jacqueline gestured for the rum.
"Don' sell yerself short like that. The boy's head over heels fer ya. Ye remember that time we all went fer a swim, long time ago, and ya jumped in with naught but yer smallclothes on?"
Jacqueline laughed. "And he refused to even look at me! Poor Connor."
"To Connor!" Thomas lifted the bottle. "May he always remain naïve and in love."
They drank to that. Jacqueline remembered something, and from her pocket pulled the large, golden ring. Furie sniffed it over her shoulder. "I should take care of this."
"Whassit?" Thomas peered at it. "Curious lil' oddity, huh?"
"More powerful than curious. It needs to be disposed of so it may never fall into the wrong hands." She stood and walked out of her room, through the galley and up to the windy deck.
Snow flecked across her face like miniscule shards of glass. The wind howled, lamenting at the Aquila. A few sailors shuffled here and there, moving as much as possible to keep warm, leaving smoky trails of breath behind them. Jacqueline hurried to the cannons, not eager to stay above deck long. With a strip of leather, she tied the ring firmly around a small shot used for swivel cannons. Heaving the heavy iron up, she lurched to the edge and flung it over. The ring sank like a stone, dragged to the bottom of the Atlantic.
"What was so important ya needed t' drop it into Davy Jones' locker?" Thomas shivered behind her, teeth chattering.
"Something evil," She breathed into her hands. "And I hope to never see it again."
-o-
Connor was loitering in New York. Without the Aquila, travel by sea was slower, as he had to wait until another ship was available to the Homestead or else travel by land. It also gave him a break from the frontier, which only brought up very fresh memories of Washington and Haytham.
Eventually, he decided enough was enough. There were things to be done elsewhere, and it was time he took his leave. Leads on Lee's locations were trickling in and pinpointing him, which refocused Connor's determination.
When he made his way through the city to port, however, he was greeted with a surprising sight. The familiar ghostly sails and small frame of the Aquila rocked gently next to the slick boards of the wharf. Without thinking much into it, he simply went aboard and searched out Faulkner. The old first mate was sitting on the stairs to the upper deck, taking nips from a flask and marking down dates and locations in a journal warped by years of water. He looked up as Connor approached and grinned.
"Ahoy, cap'n!" He greeted boisterously. "Glad to see ye still kickin'!"
"You as well. Are you returning to the Homestead soon?" Connor inquired.
''Aye, just 'bout ready to cast off again. Ye'll find yer effects in th' galley, cap'n." Faulkner saluted, a bit drunkenly, and sat heavily.
Connor turned away to step down the chipped, wobbly steps to the galley. He magnetised to his room on old habit, navigating between the nearly empty barrels. When he approached the door to his cabin, he let his hand rest on the worn wood. There were faint shuffling noises behind the door.
Entering cautiously, Connor scanned the room for the intruder. She straightened up from leaning against the window and looked at him. A wolf the height of her shoulder was pacing the left side of the room.
She looked different, somehow. Her hair was hacked short, uneven and choppily hanging around her chin, and her eyes…there was something sad and dark in her eyes that hadn't been there when she had left, like a demon had taken hold in her heart.
"Connor." Jacqueline greeted coolly.
"Jacqueline." He replied in kind, though with an unintended condescending edge. "You have returned, then. How was your trip?"
She stiffened at his tone, and her blank expression twitched into an irritated one. "Do not pretend that you're not angry with me, Ratonhnhaké:ton." Her accent, normally light, had become very strong. "I know you better than that."
"Do you? I was under the impression that you enjoyed abandoning responsibilities, but perhaps you know me better than that." Connor's voice raised slightly. They had been slowly approaching one another, and now stood within an arm's length of the other.
Jacqueline visibly bristled. "You abandoned me for your arse of a father. I wanted closure and I got it. You have no right to criticise me."
"You left without any word for two years." He accused. "What was I supposed to think?"
"You were supposed to think I was doing something without you for once." She poked a finger into his chest, glaring.
"That did not mean you had to leave the country with no warning or preparation!"
To Connor's surprise, Jacqueline swung her hand up to slap him. He caught her narrow wrist in one hand. She glared and tried with her other hand, which he also caught. Jacqueline held his gaze for a long second, her face contorted as she tried to remain angry.
"Why do you have to be so damn stubbourn?" She gritted out, wrenching her hands away.
As quickly as she pulled away, she pulled herself closer and kissed him, full on the mouth. He rested his hands on her waist, and they pressed together. The heat between them was frustrated but also relieved as they were glad to be back in the same place again. Jacqueline broke away for air and took a breath. She pecked his lips softly, once, and opened her mouth to say something.
Before she could, however, a huge blur of gray and white bounded in between them. It was the pacing wolf, forgotten of until now. His fur was whitish-gray with beige sprayed across his legs and his face splashed in black. He bristled at Connor and raised his front lip in a clear challenge for the attention of the only female present.
"Oh…this is Furie." Jacqueline said apologetically, ushering the animal back. "He was a…gift."
"That is quite an animal." Connor appraised, raising his eyebrows.
"I'm sure you two will get to know each other well. Right?" She seemed to ask the question to both of them. Furie seemed to glower at Connor, but acquiesced to Jacqueline and stalked away to lay in the corner of the cabin.
There was a pregnant pause, and Connor looked around. "Were you leaving for the Homestead?"
"Oh, yes." Jacqueline ran a hand through her hair. "Yes, I think it's time we went home."
"There is more I need to do. Charles Lee is nearly within my grasp. Once I make further preparations, I will return here to New York when he is scheduled to arrive and kill him."
Jacqueline nodded. "Not a moment to lose, then. Let's go."
-o-
-I'm sorry this took so long but I was just so conflicted about how I wanted this chapter to go…sorry! I hope it was worth the wait. ;~;
-Seriously you do not even know the amount of angst I put into this chapter on my end. It's not even that great and it's really short and I'm sorry but headaches and tiredness convinced me to finally put it up.
-Review for angry kisses!