Chapter 33: Impasse

Jamie was leaning on the doorframe of the tiny cabin, the only other separate compartment below deck apart from the captain's cabin, made available for the only woman and the two young girls travelling on the three masted barque used to cross the Atlantic. Brianna was up on deck minding her sister while the blankets were being aired in the wind, one of Claire's daily requirements for all the passengers under her care, insisting on hygiene for the sake of keeping out disease. Herself however only took short breaks from her vigil over her patient, constantly worrying about keeping him hydrated, his wound from bleeding or his temperature down. Jamie doubted she knew he was there, it was as if her entire being was focussed on caring for that man. His forehead permanently creased as he tried to wrap his head around it, the Scot did not understand. He had gathered as much that his planned revenge on Randall had been rendered obsolete by the apparent fact that the person in question did not exist as such, allegedly, however, letting him away with his past misconduct did not sit well with the Scot either. There were some things that could not be forgotten or forgiven, no matter the amount of redemption that came after, but him taking such a direction would not go down well with Claire. Not to mention he himself had risked his own life to help Jack to freedom, something that felt right in the heat and urgency of the moment. Taking that life now seemed contrary. But once the Englishman was better, he would make him pay, one way or another, only he didn't know how just yet. Punish him he will.

"Do you have enough cocculus and ginger?" Claire surprised him by proving she did know he was there and was interested in checking he had his mix of travel sickness remedies, but she didn't turn. The relationship between them was still strained to say the least, though it was helping that Brianna's natural tendency for curiosity finally got the better of her and she had started asking Jamie questions about Scotland and her heritage, learning the odd bit of Gaelic here and there on the otherwise long and boring passage to the Americas.

"Aye," Jamie responded firmly, moved away from the door and took the ladders up to deck, feeling more comfortable watching them when they weren't aware. Randall had started moaning at any case and that he did not want to hear. God forbid he might feel sorry for the man.

"Jack, I'm here," Claire placed a palm on his cheek and turned his head in her direction gently, "I'm here, you're safe, you should recover," she empathised, "open your eyes Jack, do you want some water?" Not getting any response bar for him leaning into the touch, she placed her hand under his head to lift his lips to the water mug she had.

Jack drank obediently and clumsily but thirstily. She expected him to lose his thin grip on consciousness again with the relieved sigh he let out when she let him sink back down into the pillow, but his eyes fluttered instead and soon she found herself smiling into the dark orbs. "How are you feeling?"

The patient had to think about it. There had been like a haze over him for god knows how long, some fog he had been peeking out from on occasion and any time he did so, there had been the comfort of her arms, the reassuring lull of her voice. It felt like home, as if they would've never left Sussex. But that mush was probably not what Claire was looking for, and it was also rather long winded to say so for the moment so he settled for, "heavy."

"You will naturally be weak for a while because of the blood loss," Claire continued to smile at him benevolently and he considered the possibility of being in heaven. Maybe Griffith reached them and they all died. Cause her current facial expression did not match her betrayal at Ardsmuir. "Where.."

"On the Arabela, about half way across the ocean."

Jack nodded at that. From the lulling and monotone movements of the chamber it made sense and it also told him that about a week would've passed. "The children..." was his next thought and looked around wildly in the small room.

"Everyone is safe Jack," Claire put a hand on his good shoulder to pacify him, "you are safe here with me. You didn't have much of an infection, the rain and the salt in the water must've taken care of that, but you've lost a lot of blood there was no way of replacing, so I wasn't sure you would make it. I should've remembered how tough you are."

The Englishman took another shot at surveying his surroundings, calmer this time. Moving his head made him dizzy and nauseous though, to the extent of having to give in to a feeble moan. "Easy Jack," Claire's face appeared closer to him immediately and a cool and wet rag was placed on his forehead, her hand holding it there, "thank you for covering for us."

He shook his head, no matter how much that accentuated his headache, "you think I'd leave my children's fate up to a temperamental god?" He grunted displeased.

Claire drew back ashamed. How could she justify punishing this man for deeds committed nigh a decade ago when he was willing to offer the ultimate sacrifice for them? "How did you manage to shake off the effects of the tranquilliser by the way if we're at it?" She wanted to change the subject.

"Learnt from the best," Jack summarised, "you left some of your vials."

There was an appreciative twinkle in her eyes, but there were more urgent matters, "I'll help you sit up a little so you can eat something. I don't know if you remember, I've managed to get a few mouthfuls of soup past your lips every now and then, but you need to top it up with something more substantial."

Jack shook his head again, "what for."

"To get better of course!"

"Now she cares," he pursed his lips and rolled his yes, "and him coming after me. If the intended torture is seeing you together, then impressive, success."

"Of course there is a point! Jamie not leaving you there should give you a big clue that he is maybe beginning to understand who you really are now."

"Do you think I care about that, how he regards me."

"I don't know! But if you don't care about how people regard you than you must get better for the children!"

"The children you will take away from me sooner or later when you decide it's time to be together with your lawfully wedded husband you mean."

Claire sighed, "right now, I am not sure that will ever happen. He has not digested the idea of me and you together for whatever reason it was."

Jack gave her a harsh look, "he will forgive you, you know that, he knows that, I know that. You are his most precious thing in the world. The three of us in close proximity, it will never work, that is another thing we know for sure."

"I will not leave you," promised Claire, "I have abandoned you once already and yet you come through with shining colours without the support of being reminded of right and wrong. I am with you Jack, now please eat cocky-leaky soup. The last chicken has just been plucked for you."

Jack stared at her suspiciously for some time. It's not that he believed it will go down the way she's promised and he wasn't a sort of pitiable loser to let it happen either, but he was too tired to argue or even contemplate the matter much more. "I don't think I can eat Claire, my stomach hurts."

She winced in sympathy at his revelation, "it wouldn't be a surprise with all these various ordeals for your illness to worsen. Take a few mouthfuls and we'll see," she supported his head again so she could place some pillows under, "I will massage it for you after, that always helps, right?"

Her patient continued to fix her with his gaze, scrutinising her with the hope of looking under her facade, ignoring the headache focussing his attention also made worse. She was as nice to him as if nothing would've happened, as if they've never left his family home. The hold of the moment was hypnotising and he would be foolish if he wasn't going along with it and enjoyed it while it lasted. "Maybe the massage first, it already hurts bad."

Claire set the mug down she only just picked up and rolled his shirt up at the stomach instead, an act she had done hundreds of times before, literally, along with gently sliding her hand above his belly button and round, half to assess his current state and half to get a start on the massage. His moan was that of relief when he closed his eyes. Her fingers always meant salvation, redemption, if only temporarily.

Tbc