Never again…. never. Never ever ever again! John hated the giant bugs, the snakes the humidity and the fact that he had somehow ended up the governor of the slavery and cruelty capital of the British Empire. No More.
William was a wreck, Isobel was dead… this entire misadventure had been a disaster. The new governor would be here in just over 2 weeks and then he and his poor son could finally get the HELL out of here….
Seeing Jamie Fraser show up here, out of the blue, after so long… with the wife he'd claimed was gone forever for the last 20 years! John hadn't been able to sit still since then. Atrocities left and right, nothing he could do… praying for the day his son would arrive, knowing at least that Isobel would have a calming effect on him despite being… he always wished that he felt more for her, and then it made him resent her for her role in how much he hated himself… But then his son showed up alone, sobbing, with no mother at all. She had died on the way, buried at sea, and he had been alone... his frightened little boy, thinking it was somehow his fault.
John felt a whole new level of self-loathing… and his desperation to be everything to William, to fix it… he had to get off this godforsaken island. They needed to start over. Yet their next destination was likely to be no better… no matter where he went, John would always be the man who preferred men and hadn't loved his wife… his dead wife.
Brianna believed having one epiphany can change your life. It was a philosophy she came up with on Pan Air Flight 667 from Boston to Kingston as she read over the old school notes about how awful transatlantic sea crossings were in the 18th century… In fact, even listening to Gayle's parents talk about their cruise on the QE2 last year sounded godawful but, she had politely oohed and ahh-ed all the same. Sailing? Loved it… but that is NOT was this was…
When she had gotten Roger's call to tell her that not only had Mama successfully found Jamie but they'd ended up in North Carolina, she had been so relieved that she nearly collapsed in a puddle. But she also felt like a whole new fire had been lit inside her; she simply HAD to know more, to know absolutely everything! He had called a few more times, wanting to reconnect, but she never returned the effort. He had proven himself to have too much of a cruel edge to ever have her trust again. It had surprised her, when it happened, but she knew Mama would tell her to never put up with a man making her feel 'less', telling her she was a whore… She was NOT less and she was NOT… that word. Having said that, Mama put up with 20 years of that and worse from Frank, he was not actually her father… But, she appreciated the research tip and had thanked him for it.
The day she found the obituary in the dregs of the archives of the New York Public Library's Colonial Heritage Collection, she felt her blood go cold… then burn hot enough to nauseate her. She had to warn them… she had to! She could fix this! The date… was smudged? She tried every which way to find information another way on the date of a fire at Fraser's Ridge or the deaths, but no dice. She resigned herself that she just had to go as soon as she could. She only had a few months to shutter her entire life and haul ass to Scotland…
She was walking down the steps of the library, about to pass the famed lions, when she had it: her epiphany, later to be memorialized en route to Jamaica over peanuts and ginger ale.
Surely, she thought, if there is one magical time-travel-capable stone circle… there could certainly be others as well. Why would there only be one anyway? It made MORE sense, really, for there to be many, spread all over the world, right?!
Maybe? She would certainly appreciate it if there were, anyway…
She crossed her fingers, ran back inside and had an extremely stunted and bizarre conversation with a librarian… but to great success.
After three intensive days, extending her stay on Alfonso's couch and repeatedly turning down his roommates' date invitations, she found 3 possibilities that had a LOT of lore attached - disappearances as well as appearances, all without explanation… and all on THIS side of the Atlantic Ocean:
Middle of Nowhere Blue Ridge Mts Abandawe Beach, Jamaica Okrakoke Island, South Carolina
When she danced into Alfonso's apartment that night she squealed with delight and surprise. "Uncle Joe! What are you doing here?! Where's Aunt Gail?"
"We are both here to harass our two best kiddos while they are in the same spot! We're gonna take you to dinner."
Alfonso was Gail and Joe's only son and two years younger than Brianna; both growing up as only children of med students-turned-surgeons, they felt like brother and sister. He was finishing up at NYU just as she was finishing her Masters at MIT.
"Awww… you gonna show off our diplomas to the whole place? We don't get them for a few weeks. They come in the mail, apparently."
"Oh, hush, just showing off YOU. What are you researching, anyway? You graduated two weeks ago! Shouldn't you be at the beach? Or Bloomingdales like a certain wife I won't mention, like… mine?" He grinned, sitting her down in a big flop onto the ridiculous sofa.
She loved Joe as much as she had loved her father… sometimes, she felt guilty because in truth she loved him a lot more. He never made her feel badly, never guilted her, never did anything but support and love her with no strings. He never used her like a trick pony or showed her off for her looks in a creepy way the way Frank did… He also supported her mother for being brave in all the amazing ways she had been… Frank had never once done that - Mama's bravery had made him furious.
"Umm… Thinking about taking a trip." She lied, sort of. "I've narrowed it down to two spots- both a little loony but cool. Abandawe Beach, in Jamaica or an island off South Carolina… supposed to be nice." She was so bad at this. So… so bad at this.
"Oh… hey I know that place."
WHOA, had she heard him right?
"You do? The beach in Jamaica?"
"Yeah yeah yeah! Your mom… I remember now! A friend a mine, archeologist, recovered a skeleton near there and needed a consult. Your mom got the heeby jeebies so bad, boy oh boy! But she knew right away what the cause of death was, it was kinda spooky…"
"That is spooky…" Okay, so Jamaica it is then… Brianna got a shiver down her back and plastered a smile on her face. She had to pretend she was fine and go have tiramisu! This part of her family that meant everything to her, that was all she had after Mama left… maybe this was the last time they had dinner together? If something went wrong… she might never get back...
"Yeah yeah, Lady Jane always had a knack though. Alfi! Hurry up, your Papa has a rumbly in his tumbly, boy!"
Brianna giggled; Uncle Joe was a 50 yr old 6'4" black heart surgeon who just shouted a quote from Pooh Bear to his 21 year old son. She loved him so much.
"Did you go to the march with Alfi?" he asked her, knowing it was another reason she was in New York. Her heroes had both been assassinated, but she was all in on civil rights; he was proud of her, but wondered if she knew how careful a gal like her needed to be at a black panther march… But he knew why she went, and it wasn't the Panthers; she'd been a wreck that summer… never quite gotten over it fully.
She nodded. "He would've changed this country, Joe. I feel like that man didn't shoot one person, he shot one, maybe two generations of progress too."
He ran a hand over her hair. Kennedy's assassination had hit her particularly hard, like everyone who believed in civil rights who was already on their knees from King's shooting just 2 months earlier it had felt like the knockout punch… After crying through most of the summer of '68, she and Alfi had started going to every march and meeting they could get to on school breaks and never really stopped.
"I know, honey. It was a one-two heavyweight punch for all of us. Just gotta keep on marching, keep on going."
"You think they're gonna ever…?"
"If I don't answer, I don't have to be right, do I?" He looked so sad for a minute… Brianna marveled at her Uncle Joe. He was the exception, the success story, but he had overcome odds so big no one could ever understand them but him… and they never stopped coming. He never stopped getting pulled over or questioned as a doctor, simply for being black.
"Oh! Guess who I met. Guess!" His smile was back, knowing he was about to impress her.
"Ringo!"
"Damn girl, no!" She giggled at his horrified face.
"Okay… should I guess again, or tell me and not risk being horrified by who I come up with?"
"Thurgood Marshall."
"NO WAY!"
"WAY."
He was always like that. He could speak like a kid but not speak down to them… be their friend AND not lose his authority as a dad. Maybe that is why Frank had hated him… that and a hundred other reasons.
"Tell me!"
"Echocardiogram."
"Liar."
"You're right, I met him at a party. He's a pretty cool cat… parted the room like he was Moses or some shit… he had a presence, you know? Like Dr. King, but more… choosy about using it. King was a preacher, Marshall is a litigator. He is a predator with an argument… I saw him destroy some asshole talking about how kids are better off with their own kind in schools so no need to mess with the law or some BS and he just sliiiides right up, real casual like, scotch and water in hand, his wife has this knowing little smirk - she knows whats goin' down - and in two minutes he had this man gaping like a trout out of water who don't know a damn thing son, no no NO... and then he's just sliiiiiding back over to the buffet like oo-oo-ooh, is this gouda?"
Brianna was dying, giggling and watching his do the voices, act it all out and do all the parts.
Finally Alfonso walked in, no longer a sweaty stinky mess from playing basketball. "Aha! The prodigal and cleanly son has arrived!"
"Yeah yeah… where's Mama? Shoes again?"
"The woman has a sick-ness and it doesn't fall under my medical specialty, son, and we do not speak ill of the mentally in-fiiiiirm. She should be here any minute… Here she is!" Joe cackled and clapped his hand, loving that he had timed his joke perfectly to rile her like he liked... he might as well be pulling her pigtail it pleased him just as much.
"Aunt Gail!" Brianna sprung up and into the arms of her second mother. This woman is the only reason she was in one piece without Claire… and why Claire was finally convinced she could go.
"I brought prezzies! Joseph, don't think I didn't hear that...mmmmhhmmmmm... Sweet girl, go put this on, it's your size and we are going out in styyyle with our kiddos tonight!"
Brianna smiled and rolled her eyes in the appropriately exaggerated way, kissing her on the cheek and disappearing into the bathroom. She wondered, putting on the rather gorgeous designer dress that fit perfectly and she loved, whether this would be the only time she'd get to wear it. She threw on some perfunctory mascara - saved her having to just get shooed back in to do it - and fished the matching shoes out of the bag. Gail had splurged…
"You splurged!"
"Yup!"
"You should not have splurged!"
"Bull! Lemme see!" Gail loved this game way too much, Bree grumbled to herself.
"I feel silly!"
"No you don't, you feel pretty and that makes you feel weird because you ARE weird!" Alfonso shouted, grinning.
"Shut up, nerd!"
"YOU'RE a nerd!"
"Children, you look like adults now… call each other adult insults, at least, huh?" Joe smiled at his wife's snorted giggle.
"We are going to Giovani's… without you… in 3…2…1…"
"Fine."
Brianna scowled and stalked out the apartment without making eye contact with anyone. She looked like… ugh.
Gail smirked, trotting after her. Brianna was a wonderful girl with brains and had never leaned into her looks and yet she kept dated jerks like her father. She was going to stop that right now, Gail decided. The girl was supermodel pretty and genius-smart and uncomfortable admitting to either one. If she got comfortable with both she could run the world.
Joe coughed a lot to cover his need to laugh at his son's fascination with the ceiling of the elevator… a fascination Brianna shared, apparently.
Dinner was amazing and full of laughter. New York was hit or miss with staring when an upper class black family dined in a mostly white neighborhood or establishment, or the party dining was mixed… but mostly hit. Boston was more sharply segregated still. Brianna assumed the staring was about race and was uncomfortable, staunchly ignoring it. Joe and Gail knew it wasn't. It was not them being stared at.
In the last few years Brianna had grown up and she hadn't even noticed - yet the rest of the world around her noticed constantly. It seemed to make her uncomfortable… and could be dangerous, now that Joe considered it more carefully. Gail caught his eye across the table, tilting her head toward Brianna. He nodded with a half smile; that woman read his mind too easily sometimes… good thing he had as big a crush on her now as he did at 16.
After dinner, cannolis half-eaten and doggy-bags on the table, Gail let out the world's fakest yawn. "Gee, Alfi, I am just exhausted. Would you take me back to the hotel? Now?" She smiled in a way that no tired person would, kissed Brianna on the cheek, and said her goodnights. Her bewildered son, terrified of his mother's one-eyebrow-lift look, followed silently behind her.
"Umm. What was that?"
"Bree, you and me gots to talk."
"What? What's wrong?"
"You know I love you as much as if you were my own." It was a statement because they both knew it and had always known it.
"I do, but you're freakin me out a bit."
"You saw a little staring at the table tonight and got a little hostile."
"Well yeah! It's bullshit!"
"Baby girl, they weren't staring at us."
"What are you talking about?"
Joe raised a son… maybe Gail could have helped with this?
"Do you date much, honey?"
"Eww, what? No… not really. Why?"
"Humor an old man who loves you and assume I have a point that we will get to eventually?"
"Okaaaay. No… I dated one guy, Roger, you remember him… he was… cruel, as it turned out. That's how every guy turns out. I… it's like no matter how many of my friends say 'this guy is SO NICE' or 'he goes to my church' whatever… men are… not like you, Uncle Joe. Not anymore. I've had… bad experiences. So I just gave up."
He sighed, trying to swallow a LOT of feelings.
"Bree… this is gonna sound pretty ridiculous because I don't think there is a not-ridiculous way to say this. You are… Gail should be here helping me. I'm not doing very well."
"You are really, really freaking me out!"
"Girls as beautiful as you… need to know they are. And it seems like you don't."
"Huh?"
"It sounds like… and boy I wish I had known this earlier sweetie, men have tried to take advantage already?"
"Yeah… but I never let them, or… I got out of it. I had to walk home from Lexington at 2am in January last year… another time I had to pull a parking break at a red light and bang on the window. I never went on another date after that."
Joe felt a tear slip down his cheek and it was pure anger. "Oh baby… I woulda come get you. I will ALWAYS COME GET YOU."
"I'm sorry Uncle Joe."
"What? Oh, Brianna, don't you ever apologize, that is number one! You are strong to have done that, you are a bad ass chick! Say that back, right now, say that back!"
"I am a bad…ass chick."
"We can work on that. But honey, listen to me. I bring it up, and it looks like I was right to. People stare at beautiful girls. And you, whether you wanna be or not, are one of those. You also happen to be one of the brilliant ones. Neither of these two things is easy to be, no matter what people think. Men will try to say your brain does not matter when it makes them feel stupid, and they will look at how pretty you are and assume things… with no evidence or reason.
They will try to take things from you. Even if it is just a bit of your dignity by staring too long. But, it could also be a matter of personal safety. So baby girl you gotta stop playin' ostrich. You gotta own it, cuz if you own it, you get to take some of that power back… keeps you safe, keeps you YOU. You getting me?"
"Aunt Gail is a bad ass chick… I just feel like… no matter how many degrees I collect it won't matter. All anyone will see is me in this dress and assume I get paid to wear it. Not… Aerospace engineer, not HER… she's just some whore, if I'm lucky, some model. But I've heard 'whore' way more times."
"Oh baby girl… so many shitty people in the world. They don't look at me and see a surgeon, do they?"
Oh. "They SHOULD."
"Damn right, but there are way too many who never will. Just like the ones who will never see you for what you really are - and you and me both gotta keep remembering the same lessons… Don't listen to them, and don't let yourself be alone with them. Ain't much different between someone lynching, and someone raping.
You have to be aware, Brianna, of who is looking at you… at all times. Tonight… you weren't and it was okay because we were at dinner. But if you were walking alone… do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Yes."
"I love you, sweet girl. Your Mama… she was my best friend, and you are the daughter of my heart. You CALL ME… you don't walk home from god knows where, promise me?"
"I promise. I wanted to but… I was so humiliated. But I promise."
"You ever think about going back?"
"Back where?"
"To your Mama, and Jamie."
Brianna stared at Joe, eyes like saucers. He… HE KNEW?!
"Ha! You didn't know I knew… I didn't realize that. Hey! That's the research! You lying little sneak!"
She was back to doing her trout impression, eyes landing on the rest of Gail's wine and gulping it down, watching him guffawing next to her.
"Damn… so you are! Why now?"
She took a deep breath. "To save her from being killed in a house fire."
He ordered two espressos and she told him everything, more grateful than ever for the father of her heart.
Thinking back on it, Brianna wasn't sure how she would be pulling this off without Uncle Joe and Aunt Gail… She owned a townhouse, had a car, had mail… like her mother, everything was put into trusts and with Gail and Joe on all accounts for absolutely everything. They made contingency lists up the wazoo and she packed the most bizarre luggage she could have ever imagined.
-Uncle Joe made her a very real-looking hospital badge - Dr Randall but with her photos and not her mother's, it was GENIUS! She informed customs she was going to be administering medical aid to orphans, hence her enormous horde of syringes, penicillin and aspirin as well as a set of surgical knives and clamps.
-She wrote out her own cookbook with the recipes of every dish she and her mother liked and would find useful yet knew she wouldn't have a clue how to make from her head.
-One notebook was filled with various scientific and engineering plans that she could use to make life easier for everyone…
-the formula to make matches
-formulas for various explosives
-improving the range and accuracy of rifles
-various farming principles that hadn't been discovered yet
-recipes for medicines and poisons - and the antidotes for each poison
-On top of the science of advanced weaponry she also made some notes about tactical warfare… she really could cut the time the revolution took in half if anyone cared to listen for 5 minutes.
-recipes for paints and fabric dye
-sewing patterns, a few dozen zippers, a few hundred strong safety pins, and the machinery plans for sewing machines… maybe she could make something similar for her mother?
-Brianna also had, since a class field trip to Plymouth in the 4th grade, been obsessed with the absurdity of butter churns… there was, so very obviously, a better way… so she brought technical drawings to prove it. It just bugged her sooo much!
She kept remembering small things, like a horde of safety razors and toothbrushes, toothpowder and a few ballpoint pens...
Brianna also played the game with herself where if she would never be able to come back… what could she not live without, futuristic item or no? She couldn't take records, so she basked in her favorites dozens of times over and over. She had hated piano lessons with a white hot passion growing up but now… she thanked her parents and God and her evil teacher Mrs. Simons.
Brianna found sheet music to the songs that she knew, in her heart of hearts, that if she got stuck… she could not live without… she had many favorites memorized, but newer things that she couldn't bring records for? Sheet music and her own voice would have to do if she was lucky enough to find a piano and lack of people nearby.
-She snuck in her toe shoes, a new pair of danskin tights and leotard, each rolled up tight and tucked into a shoe; the shoes we stacked toe-to-heel and hidden inside some wool leg warmers.
-Brianna did not debate for a second before writing an extremely detailed who's who and timeline of events of the entirety of the war and the pertinent details after and past 1812. She made sure to have blackmail on everyone.
She also knew one thing for sure. If she got the chance… she was going to try to change one thing in particular… so she gathered a lot of current information too. All her paperwork- everything she wrote down and all the documents she gathered - she put into a leather folio that had a combination lock.
The only two paper items in her carry-on satchel were her smaller sketchbook and her journal.
Gail had helped her comb through antique coin dealers and even taken her to a film studio costume shop where she helped her have a few things made special. It made sense, she said, to spend her parents money… she was leaving it all behind for no reason, otherwise! Brianna realized that she was…absolutely correct…
That was why she had also splurged on a spa day with Gail to thank her and taken Uncle Joe to a baseball game with seats that were… insane. When she told her roommate she was going away for a while and to enjoy all of her closet, they had gotten drunk on tequila and tried everything on for some reason. Uncle Joe knew to keep paying her half of the rent through the end of the lease and then… there was a contingency for everything.
She went to the dentist and the gynecologist and got a physical… she literally did EVERYTHING. She even took a photo of Uncle Joe, Alfi and Gail, laminated it and put it in her folio. She brought too many photos, she knew that.. but at least she had hidden them in the linings of her leather bags, coats, throughout things.
The things she was bringing that she shouldn't, for the most part, were small. Easy to hide, or explain.
Except… the books. She had done something… not good… but so what? If she was going to be stuck there then… she deserved to… have some of her comforts. So she had also spent a ridiculous amount of money at a private bookbinder to re-bind some of her favorite books hidden as… other books.
Hopefully no one would ever try to read her bible because it was actually The Hobbit. Or her other bible… which was Pooh Corner and half the Little House series… or the other, which had the rest of it… By accepting the abridged version (ugh… blasphemy) and stretching the size to nearly that of a newspaper, she also had Little Women, Slaughterhouse Five and a few others…
Her mother would kill her, but… also be dying to borrow them, so, it would be fine. She was bringing her a stethoscope as a bribe.
She had a 'ladies guide' to the period… it would be difficult enough to give up certain things but she also had to remember not to swear like a sailor, too? And… who cares if she knew how to fucking arrange flowers?! And embroidery was BORING. She slammed the book shut within three minutes of opening it every single time… the part about husbands was particularly nauseating. It reminded her of that conversation with Uncle Joe… she wondered how different it would be here… where she was literally chattel.
She had given herself a few days reservation at the hotel to get up her nerve and to swim… her favorite thing and something she may not be able to enjoy again. She was a water baby and spent every vacation growing up in the water until her parents absolutely made her get out. Vacations were always when they actually felt like a family… the only times.
She knew she had to get there before the governorship switched hands… so she couldn't keep stalling.
Her last bit of research that made her sure… really sure, that Jamaica was the place she should pick was the name of the Governor. She had seen it… somewhere. Somewhere… Lord John Grey. It tickled the back of her neck, like a Nancy Drew Clue. She decided to dig deeper into the good Governor… try to figure out why the name sounded familiar, or at least… gave her tummy a funny feeling.
She hit pay dirt when his CV read: 'Ardsmuir Prison' - poor guy kept getting shit posts… wonder why… But, that meant he knew Jamie. Whether that was good or bad, Brianna couldn't say. Either way, it seemed like a sign. She would go with Jamaica, take a few days for herself, then seek his help with the best way to North Carolina. Hopefully, as inmates go, Jamie Fraser had been… fuck it, she had no clue. She hoped this was the right decision…
After a few days of stewing at her hotel, Brianna went out into downtown Kingston after dark and in street clothes, no makeup, looking as unattractive and discreet as possible; she found her last purchase so, so much easier than she had anticipated it was slightly unnerving. It was not an uncomfortable item for her to use in general, though a revolver was not her style. This was sheer necessity and her gun of choice simply wasn't practical… Rifles don't fit in waistbands or under skirts, after all. The amount of ammunition she purchased should have alarmed the store owner but… didn't.
She had the education and spec sheets to make more… but it was a pain in the ass. This was just easier, heavier, but easier. She bought a few knives, as well. One that was swiss-army style, with every attachment one could imagine, an enormous one that reminded her of the US Marine k-bar that Gayle's scary boyfriend showed her, and a small dagger with a strangely wide hilt that made her feel like a sassy lady-pirate. She took her arsenal and various holsters and strappings back, rearranged her clothing slightly, and packed up.
She didn't bother checking out of her hotel. She put on trousers, boots and a man's white linen shirt - she'd officially gone back in time. She had a skirt ready to put on over it all when she had to and not a minute before. Brianna pinned her hair into a fat side braid, picked up her satchel and pack and headed down the path toward the beach.
She had eyed the cave path before.
Studied the map.
Felt the hairs on her arm prickle when she got close.
She knew she was in the right spot.
Every thing she needed was in the leather satchel she wore cross-body; the larger leather bag could be carried that way too, though far less comfortably, or like a backpack or one-handed, like you would a suitcase. She called it her 'Mary Poppins' bag since she had hidden so much in the lining and made so many false compartments. After all was said and done, despite it seeming like she was bringing a lot… she wasn't, not really.
The heaviest things were the abridged kids books and the bullets, now spread out over many, many small pockets to distribute their weight and muffle the sound of clinking; she had been smart about planning her mixing and matching, so had few pieces of clothing overall, too. She was wearing her boots and dagger and packed her gun and knives. Medical supplies were light… she could handle this without a porter. She could do this on her own.
The cave was just plain spooky… Brianna laughed out loud, thinking whoever had decided how spooky it should be had simply outdone themselves. Buzzing, buzzing bees.
Then not bees at all. The dogs of war tearing the world apart… the pool was sooo blue. So pretty. So very pretty blue. This must be it, must be the portal, she just needed to… remember… where she was going… and…so blue and pretty…
Brianna had a blinding headache and wanted to punch someone. Anyone. She felt nauseated. Did it work? It better have worked because…
She retched what felt like every meal she had ever eaten. When she finally felt she could lift her head she realized that it was quiet. The pool was quiet. She was soaking wet… was that sweat or pool water? And the cave was… less creepy?
BUT OH MY GOD THAT'S A DEAD WOMAN.
Uncle Joe had said something about… OH DEAR JESUS. MAGOTS….
Brianna picked up her bag and ran out of the cave. She had never put together… why would she? How? Nope. No…. Not even thinking about that. Gonna be sick again…
She was on a familiar beach that was… different.
She had her things.
She was alive.
Okay... This was FUCKING BANANAS.
Now she had to figure out a way to… meet the Governor… somehow. She would just... walk a little. Get some air.
William was asleep, finally. John felt as though he might never be… He felt dead inside. Not grieving your wife had to be some sort of new low, even for him. She was such a sweet, good woman, yet he… hadn't loved her. She had deserved better. John felt determined to just… be a good father. William was all that mattered now.
Not loving Isobel… feeling shackled to the bottom of a deep dark stormy sea alone thanks to Jamie Fucking Fraser forever… no matter what, no matter if his wife shows back up… He'd never be happy like other people. He'd never be normal. His relationships with other men, that used to be fun and sexy and joyous now just felt like self loathing of some kind… how many nights was he going to walk this fucking beach and think about this?
John had paced the mile stretch behind the Governor's mansion every night for months, unable to sleep. Watching the sea, hating himself… that was it. He had never, not once, seen another person. So who the fuck was that?