1738

-/-

Haytham didn't leave.

He never told her why, and Jenny never asked. He stayed even when she moved on, from England to Paris and then on to Asia, a continent she'd never visited and did not know at all. He told her everything that had happened to him since she left five years ago, and in return she told him… nothing at all.

Finally the day came when Haytham flat out asked her for more of the story. "You're not interested, are you?" Jenny asked. "Not really?"

"I want to know the whole thing," Haytham said. "It makes you sad, and I want to know why."

"Because…" Jenny let out a frustrated noise. "That's what happens when you lose someone important. Even remembering the good times can make you sad."

Haytham chewed on that for a while. Then he said, "I remember Desmond."

"I hope so," Jenny snorted. "He helped change your diapers the same as all the rest of us."

Haytham turned a funny shade of pink before going on. "I mean- it's weird to find out that he wasn't even from this time. I still don't know if I can believe it. I always thought he was so normal. I liked him."

"I liked him too," Jenny said quietly.

"Obviously," Haytham snorted.

-/-

1722

-/-

Jenny spent a week solid watching the horizon for ships. Her father laughed at her, teased that she was too young to have boys chasing her across the ocean (but there was a hint of iron in his voice). He never stopped her from watching and waiting, though, and sometimes even came to join her. Sometimes Jenny wondered who he was waiting for, but the one time she asked, Edward only smiled sadly and said the friends he was waiting for were ones he would never see again. "Not in this life, anyway."

So Jenny didn't ask again.

On her eighth day of waiting, she finally saw a ship (not a boat, as Edward kept telling her). It came into sight early in the morning, and Jenny barely even blinked until just past noon, when she finally decided the ship really was headed for the island. Sometime ships just passed them by without stopping, but this one was different. Jenny recognized the flag and knew it belonged to one of her father's friends- he'd been planning a trip from Europe to the Caribbean anyway, and offered to take Desmond along as long as he was headed in that direction.

Jenny very badly wanted to know what that business was- she normally wouldn't have cared, but Edward was so annoyingly secretive about the whole thing. It was really driving her crazy, and later, she promised herself, she would get the answer out of someone. Right now, she had other things on her mind.

She'd been on the island for over a year by now, and most of its wonders had become almost commonplace by now. Today they seemed all new, because all Jenny could think of was what to show Desmond first when she finally saw him again.

And finally, after what felt like hours and hours of waiting, he stepped off the ship. Jenny very nearly didn't recognize him. He was taller than she was, now (which annoyed her), and badly sunburnt all over (which pretty much made up for the growth spurt). He looked tired, and Jenny saw fresh calluses on his fingers, but when he saw her he smiled and it was just like it had always been. Better, really, because finally her mother and grandparents weren't looking over her shoulder and telling her to make better choices in her friends. There was only Edward, who Jenny had started to suspect was the reason behind all those hints about 'better friends'. He wasn't exactly the kind of man her grandparents would have liked.

Jenny, on the other hand, thought he was the most amazing person she had ever met.

"You sound happy," Desmond said, when Jenny had finished with her tour of the island.

"I am," Jenny said. "It's good here. Dad wants to go to England, but I want to stay. What do you think?"

"It's…" Desmond cocked his head a little, thinking hard. "Big," he says at least. "And hot, and sandy."

"I know," Jenny said, a little impatient. "But what do you think?"

Desmond shrugged. "It's okay."

Jenny made a noise of frustration, and a face. "You don't like it," she said.

"I like it better than Swansea," Desmond said. "It's lonely there."

"You always seemed to like it when I was there," Jenny said, and Desmond turned a weird, reddish color.

"Well, yea," he said. "You were there. Now you're here."

And Jenny had nothing at all to say to that.

-/-

2012

-/-

Lucy had started to get suspicious.

She kept cornering one or another of her colleagues, asking pointed questions about why exactly they kept closeting themselves in odd corners of the sanctuary and talking late into the night.

"It's none of your business," Desmond said, for the hundredth time.

"It just worries me when you keep secrets," Lucy said. "We're on the run, the templars have already found us once, and-"

"It's nothing important," Desmond said. Lied, really. It was just that the more Lucy pressed him for answers, the less he wanted to give them to her.

"It obviously is," Lucy argued. "Or you wouldn't spend so much time doing… whatever it is you're doing. Why can't you just tell me?"

She leaned in too close as she said it, and Desmond took a step back. She was flirting, or trying to- only he wasn't interested, and she was insistent, and maybe that was the real reason he didn't want to tell her anything. It was obnoxious, that was all, almost like she was trying too hard.

"Because there's nothing to tell," Desmond said, and pushed away from her. That night, when he met again with Shaun and Rebecca, Lucy watched them go with a worried frown on her face. Probably Desmond should have taken more notice of that, but at the time he barely even noticed. The night went on much the same as it normally did, and soon Desmond had stopped thinking of Lucy at all.

-/-

Christmas on the island was a loud, half insane event, nothing at all like Desmond had ever seen before. For one thing, it was warmer than he was used to- it felt weird to wake up on December 25th and see sand on the ground instead of snow. But also it seemed like Christmas to the people on the island was an excuse to get a little more drunk and rowdy than usual. There was dancing and music until late at night, and enough food for a feast.

Jenny went to bed somewhere around midnight, but Desmond still felt wired and full of energy, and stayed out late. He found an out of the way place, somewhere that he could still hear the music and the sound of laughter in the distance, but still be on his own. From time to time men and women passed by in pairs or larger groups, disappearing into the darkness of the island to be alone. None of them seemed to notice Desmond, until at last Jenny's father appeared from- apparently- nowhere, and sat down next to him.

"What are you doing out here?" Edward asked.

"Nothing," Desmond said, half ducking away from the man. It wasn't that he didn't like Edward- he was actually pretty cool, but he was also Jenny's dad. He seemed half convinced that Desmond liked Jenny, which was silly. She was his friend, but she was still a girl. Girls were gross.

For a few minutes Edward didn't say anything, and Desmond started to fidget a little. He wished he'd gone to bed already, but it was very obviously too late to back out now. Finally, he asked, "Did Jenny tell you we're leaving for England?"

"Yea," Desmond said. "She's pretty upset." Jenny was very upset- she'd spent at least a week ranting at Desmond about how little she wanted to go to England.

"I know," Edward said, with a quick smile- he always seemed to be smiling. "She told me. More than once."

"So... why are you going?" Desmond asked.

"Because she deserves better than this," Edward said, abruptly serious. "You'll understand someday, when you have children of your own."

"Ew," Desmond said. He wasn't having kids. No way.

"The point is, we're leaving for England," Edward said. "As soon as possible."

"Oh," Desmond said, softly.

"And I want you to come with us."

"You- what?" He shook his head, because there was no way that could be right. "Why?"

"Because of Jenny," Edward said. "All I want is a good life for her."

And Desmond couldn't pretend that he really understood. He didn't know why a life in England was better than a life on the island. He didn't get how he was supposed to help. But he wasn't going to complain, because he had followed her across one ocean already.

She was the only friend he had in the world, after all. The only one who knew he didn't exactly belong in this time and place. Losing her would have been like losing the last connection he had to his past. It wasn't a great past, but it was still his, and he didn't want to forget.