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THE SUNSET
(Day 2 - Evening)
Firelight flickers orange against the tumble of fallen trees and boulders that shelters their camp. Sitting watch with his improvised staff propped across his knees, Jack stares into the fading embers. They'll have to smother the flames before it gets dark, but Emma is curled as close to the warmth as she dares, fast asleep on the scrubby dry ground.
It's good to see her warm. Not worth the risk for much longer, though.
A twig snaps behind Jack. He lurches up to his knees, grabbing his staff and twisting around to face the oncoming threat.
"Easy! Easy," Merida whispers, and glances right and left before emerging from her cover behind a tree. "It's only me." She's got her bow in one hand and a dripping water bottle clipped to her belt.
Slowly, Jack settles back onto the ground. His heart is still pounding. "Warn me next time," he whispers back, feeling stupid. He can't keep jumping like this - they're allies. Either he trusts her not to stab them in the back, or he doesn't.
Merida rolls her eyes, for all the world as if she can hear his thoughts. "For pity's sake, Jack, ye knew I was comin' back. Here, it's full." Unclipping the bottle, she sits crosslegged next to him and holds it out. He takes it gratefully. The water tastes metallic, but it's fresh and icy cold; he gulps eagerly, then winces at the sudden headache, and Merida covers a smile. "Save a little for your sister, ye thirsty great glutton."
Jack wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and caps the bottle before handing it back. "I wouldn't forget," he says, and glances at Emma. "We should let her sleep, though. As much as we can."
It's no wonder she's exhausted. They've been on the move all day, and Emma has spent every moment gathering, listening, guarding. Dogging Merida's steps to watch how she stays alert, imitating the silent way she walks through the trees. A proud smile tugs at Jack's mouth. She's doing so well. She has a chance, he's sure of it.
There's an odd look on Merida's face, as she watches him watching his sister.
"Does she know?" she says, softly. "What ye're plannin'?"
"I...what?" Jack's eyes widen in surprise - and then he's covering with an awkward little laugh, holding up both hands as if to ward her off. "Hey, I don't -"
"Jack." Merida is frowning at him. "Ye can't go home with her. There's only one Victor."
He hesitates, mouth open as if to protest further...then falls silent, staring at his outstretched feet. The campfire pops and settles with a crunch of fragmenting wood. It'll burn out on its own at this rate.
She's still waiting, expectantly, for an answer.
Jack clears his throat. "I always took care of her, back home." He speaks more to his own hands than to the girl sitting next to him. "I couldn't just stop. Not when she needs me more than ever."
"Ye can't be there to protect her forever." Merida isn't meeting his eyes, either. "Not if ye want her to win this." Is she testing him? The implications hang unspoken in the air between them. One Victor. There are three of them in this clearing, bathed in the red light of the setting sun.
"I know." Jack licks his lips. "But...I'm going to do everything I can, for as long as I can." It's an honest answer, but he's not sure how she'll take it.
Merida sighs, a long sigh with a bit of a shudder in it, and then she does meet his eyes. To his surprise, she looks...satisfied. "I'd do the same," she admits, "if it were my own brothers."
She's got brothers of her own. Suddenly, he has to know.
"Listen," he starts to ask, "if I..." The words catch in his throat. "If I can't be there," he tries again, with a helpless gesture at his sister, and Merida saves him the trouble.
"I'd still do the same," she says, firmly. Her chin is up, and that look is in her eyes again; that same resolute determination. He remembers it from the cafeteria. It makes her look like a warrior, hard as marble, with the dying sunlight glowing in her red curls.
And then her features soften again. "Ye didn't think I'd skive off, if something happened to ye?" she says, slightly offended, and nudges him with her elbow. "This'll be a fair awful blow to yer ego, Jack Frost, but I'm not here because a bonny lad smiled at me."
"What, not even a little?" Jack can't help asking, raising an eyebrow at her. Merida lets out an undignified snort at that, and Jack frowns, slightly stung. "Right, fine, sorry I asked," he grumbles, crossing his arms. He does not have an ego. Does he?
Laughing outright now, Merida leans over and rests her shoulder against his with a companionable thump. "Ach, quit yer blether," she says. "She's lucky to have ye for a brother."
Jack blinks, startled, but doesn't pull away. Her weight against his feels...balanced. Reliable. Warm.
They sit quietly, and watch the last red streaks of sunset fade away.