Author's Note: As always, read and review.
Chapter 49: Jailed
"Can I see your foot?" Micky asked a while after his friends left to go do what they needed to do. Before waiting for a response, he took Piper's foot and set it in his lap. He gently took off her shoe and sock to inspect her ankle. He cringed inwardly when he saw just how swollen it was.
"It doesn't hurt when I don't stand on it," Piper said.
"Well, then we'll be sure to keep you off it for a while," Micky said. "It really should be iced, but I don't think that it will be all that easy to find ice around here."
"I think it'll be fine," Piper smiled. "I've sprained my ankle before. They usually only take a couple of days at the most to heal. Most minor ones even faster than that."
"This doesn't exactly look minor, though," Micky said.
"I'll be fine," Piper said. "I really do love how concerned you are and how much you care about me. You're sweet."
"If you say so," Micky laughed. "Most people call me annoying and hyper."
"Well, you're that, too," Piper smiled leaning over to kiss him.
"You know, this could be fun," Micky said moving to lean against the wall the bed was against so he could pull her close to him.
"What could?" Piper asked resting her head against his chest.
"This whole time travel thing," Micky answered. "You know I used to have dreams about doing that as a kid. It's one thing to read about history in books, but it's another to actually see it. I used to dream about going back in time to see everything I was ever interested in."
"Were you interested in the revolutionary war?" Piper asked.
"Oh yeah," Micky answered. "It's very interesting." They talked for hours about the Revolutionary war and several other periods of history that was of particular interest to Micky until they heard a commotion in the distance by the bar. Micky jumped up to see what was going on, but hesitated not wanting to leave Piper alone in case the Devil was up to something.
"Go," Piper said. "I'll be fine. I have my power; he doesn't."
"Are you sure you'll be ok?" Micky asked.
"Yes, go!" Piper said. Micky pulled open the door and ran to the bar to see what was going on. When he got there, he was shocked to see Mike standing there looking pale and petrified as a ghost with blood on his forehead. He was talking to Anne who was looking a little disheveled and her clothes were even ripped.
"What happened!?" Micky exclaimed.
"They took Davy," Mike answered.
"What!?" Micky demanded. "Who took him!? Why?!"
"Some guys," Mike answered.
"They were part of the militia," Anne said. "Some of the only survivors from this town."
"They found out he was British and said they were going to take him to the magistrate," Mike continued.
"How did they find out?" Micky asked glancing worriedly at Anne. "I thought he was going to stay quiet?"
"He tried," Mike sighed, "but this drunk jerk tried to assault Anne and when Davy and I tried to intervene, he threw a bar stool at me. Davy got worried and it kinda slipped out."
"Why would they take him to the magistrate?" Micky asked. "Do they really hate the British that much?"
"I guess," Mike answered. "According to Anne most of the people lost loved ones to the British, so now they see them all as dangerous. They're going to try him as a traitor or an enemy of the state or whatever. If he's found guilty, they'll kill him."
"What!?" Micky exclaimed. "They can't do that!"
"I know," Mike said. "I tried to stop them, but they shoved a gun in my face. Anne says we can't just go busting in there."
"You have to wait for the trial," Anne said. "You have to prove he's innocent."
"But he's not," Mike pointed out. "He really was born in England, not that we can prove that anyway."
"Not innocent of being British, but innocent of being an enemy of the state," Anne said.
"How do we do that?" Mike asked.
"Wait, are you going to help us?" Micky asked. He could have sworn that he picked up on some very anti-British vibes earlier. "Don't you hate the British too? You lost your son to them too."
"Yes, and if you'd have asked me an hour ago, I would have told you the British all deserve to rot," she answered. "But your friend just stood up for me without even really knowing me. I realized that it's not right to hate someone based purely on where they come from. Those soldiers had loved ones just like us. Davy didn't kill my son, so why should I hold anything against him?"
"Thank you," Mike said. "Davy really is a good man with a kind heart."
"I've no doubt about that," Anne smiled. "From what I just saw...he was so worried about you and he was so ready to put himself in harm's way to defend me. That's all I needed to see to know that he is a good man."
"How do we prove that to the magistrate?" Micky asked.
"I'm not quite sure," Anne answered. "Normally I'd say you just testify to his character, but no one in this town knows you and no one will listen to you."
"And we can't just break him out?" Micky tried.
"No," Mike said. "We can't do anything like that. We can't change anything."
"I think we're already a little past that, Mike," Micky said. "His arrest will go on the record. It's gonna leave a mark."
"Davy Jones is a very common name," Mike reasoned. "It should be fine. But breaking him out would cause a disturbance. People would hunt him down, and that's sure to change what they're supposed to be doing."
"What are you two talking about?" Anne asked.
"We just really don't want to leave a footprint here," Mike said trying to cover up their slip. "We'd rather not interfere with anything and pretend like we never even set foot in this town."
"Well, I don't see how you're going to do that now," Anne answered.
"I know," Mike said. "Best not to make it worse though. Micky, is Piper still in the room?"
"Yeah," Micky answered. "Her ankle is pretty swollen. She needs to be off it as much as possible. Has Peter come back yet?"
"No," Mike answered. "I'm going to go find him. You talk to Piper. See if the two of you can't come up with an idea to save Davy. Anne, we appreciate the help, but we don't want to drag you into this. You have to live here when this is all over."
"I don't know how much more I can do to help anyway," Anne said. "I can speak to the magistrate in the morning and tell him what happened, but I don't even know if he'll listen to me."
"Thank you," Mike said. "We will figure something out."
"We always do," Micky said walking over to Mike to whisper quietly to him. "Be careful. He's still out there somewhere."
"I know," Mike answered. "But he can't kill any of us if he expects to get home."
"Doesn't mean he won't try and hurt you for the fun of it," Micky countered. "For all we know, he could have had a hand in this."
"True," Mike said. "But let's hope not." Micky walked back to the room. When he got in, he told Piper what had happened.
"I could try and come up with a spell to persuade the magistrate," Piper offered.
"No," Micky answered. "It's too risky. I don't want you using your magic here. I don't want to risk starting the Salem witch trials early with you. Otherwise I'd say just freeze the room and we'll bust him out. The only option we really have is to try and convince him that Davy's good."
"How do we do that?" Piper asked. "If they can just haul someone away from a tavern because he sounds British, I doubt very well they're going to listen to strangers."
"What other option do we have than to try," Micky sighed knowing full well it probably wouldn't work.
"You can't do this to me!" Davy exclaimed as the two men dragged him down a hallway in what looked like a very old cell.
"Shut it, Redcoat!" one of the men said. "Ya'lll ain't nottin' but murderous pigswine!"
"I didn't do anything!" Davy protested as they threw him unceremoniously into a cell. He landed on the floor very hard and felt pain shoot through his arm. He looked down and realized his elbow had landed on a rock on the floor.
"You lyin' scum!" the first man yelled. "Your kind killed half my family!"
"My 'kind'!?" Davy roared getting angry. "If it were for us, you never would have found this happy little island! Your ancestors and my ancestors are from the same place!"
"Then you and your little king turned your backs on us," the second man said. "And slaughtered hundreds of innocent boys and men."
"You guys did your fair share of killing, too!" Davy protested and immediately realized he shouldn't have said that. He was trying to get out of here, not make things worse. But his anger just kept getting the better of him.
"We did what we had to!" the second man yelled holding back the first who seemed far more to want to kill Davy right there before he was to see any magistrate. "You Brits pushed your little mercenaries through a town not far from here and we sent our families to defend. The horrors we saw when we got there paled in comparison to what those Hessians did to our men. You haven't seen misery until you've seen a boy with his throat slit simply for hanging a flag in support of the militia."
"Hessians?" Davy asked.
"Shut up," the first man grumbled.
"The mercenaries your King hired to kill our rebellion and take no mercy on us and our families," the second man said. "Which meant slaughter anyone and everyone who supported the uprising. Soldiers, women and children. Everyone. You are a filthy murderous people and you deserve to rot in hell like one."
"But I had nothing to do with that," Davy muttered now saddened by this information about the war. That was something he didn't read about in his history books.
"Maybe not, but that don't mean you won't try and avenge your fallen brothers!" the first guy rambled.
"I won't do anything like that," Davy pled. "My brothers are here! They're American!"
"Shut up!" the first man boomed again and banged against the bars of the cell for emphasis.
"Just let the magistrate sort it out," the less irate man said as he pulled the other one away from the cell. Davy was left alone in the cell and he immediately started looking for a way out. The bars were made of solid steel and didn't budge when he pulled and shook them. The walls were a sturdy brick that didn't even chip when he kicked it. The wall did more damage to his foot than he did to the wall. After about half an hour of trying various ways to escape, he gave up and sank onto the tiny little straw mattress on the floor of the room. He couldn't get out; he'd have to hope that Mike and the others thought something up. Why did he have to go and open his mouth? He promised Mike and the others he'd be quiet, but he couldn't even manage that.