The Fateful Heart

Evaline carefully folded the paper back to its original creases and stuffed it back into her pocket. Somehow, it felt different to put it in her pocket without crumpling it up in anger first.

She looked back at James. He looked really distressed. She didn't blame him. In fact, he was handling this better than she did. A part of her was glad that he didn't experience her nervous breakdown.

"Look, I—"

She stopped, realizing that the situation wasn't about her anymore. It was now about the two of them. Right? She had no idea what this really meant in terms of how she could go back to Earth; did they both have to equally open up? And at the same time? She tabled the thought for now, returning her attention back to James before sighing.

She couldn't recycle his old words because she hadn't suggested they abandon the note back then. She'll have to think of words of her own. Luckily for him, she just had to say her thoughts out loud before she threw the note in the fire.

"We can. Sure, we can do that. Like you said, it's just a dumb piece of paper. We don't have to follow its orders."

She paused, sheepishly smiling at him in case he decided to peek his face out from his fingers.

"We can do this together. Slowly. On our own terms. How does that sound?"

James slid his hands up his face and into his hair, holding the top of his head as he stared down at the ground for a moment.

He still didn't like it, and he didn't want to listen to a few words that magically appeared on a piece of paper. But ignoring them, at the end of the day, would have more severe consequences for Evaline than him.

At least she didn't seem to be in a hurry. They could agree to take time.

But how much time?

James felt tired, and his mind was growing cloudy again, but this time, with a weighty weariness that was calling him back to the ground. He shifted, pulling his hands away from his face, and then he turned to lie back down, adjusting his blanket once again, and settling by the fire.

He didn't want to think about this anymore. He just wanted to sleep.

As he laid on the ground, facing the sky, he tried to think of a reply that didn't sound as pitifully resigned as he felt. He wished he could respond to Evaline with confidence, but really, he just felt defeated.

"Yes," he said quietly. "Let's do that."

He glanced at her, barely catching a glimpse of her fleeting smile. He tore his eyes away and rolled onto his side, putting his arms under his neck for support.

"I'm going to try to get some sleep."

He closed his eyes.

More than ever, he hoped that sleep would come quickly, so he could rest, just for a moment.

Something didn't sit well with Evaline. James agreed, but he still looked upset and defeated. Did she say something wrong? She had never been good with words of comfort.

She knew that this wasn't going to be easy to do, especially since he was roped into this for no real reason. This was supposed to be her journey to get back to Earth, and although part of her was secretly relieved that James was now involved too, she knew he didn't ask for any of this. And she felt bad. He volunteered to take her in, share his resources, and even keep her safe while she slowly opened up so she could go back to Earth. Why did he have to open his heart too? It wasn't like he was trying to return to a different world.

"Okay," she said softly, watching him lay down to sleep.

James was better than her at a lot of things. Nature, survival skills... comforting others.

She'll give him the space he needs for now. One step at a time.

She sighed, leaning on her hands behind her, tilting her head up to look at the stars. She'll wake him up in a few hours if he doesn't wake up, but she wasn't too tired yet.

She didn't want to spend any time thinking about the future anymore.

She wanted to think of the "what if's."

James laid still for a very long time, trying to quiet his mind. Trying to not think about Eve. About the note. About people who might be lurking in the forest. About the stupid game. Everything.

Finally, the headache in his head relented just enough for sleep to take over. For a minute, the pain and worries of life were forgotten, and he was simply asleep.

And then he was back in the forest.

James was on the ground, but he was not in his body. He was looking down from the eyes of a man much taller, and a man much stronger, and he had no control over what he was doing. He was simply at mercy of the body who's eyes he was looking through.

James looked down at his face. Blood was splattered down his forehead, and the cut on his temple reopened, oozing a deep red. His eyes were hazy and unfocused, and his face looked so empty like he was beyond expressing pain, and hollow. He watched as Butch's foot came pounding down on his chest, and he watched as his own face contorted, and his eyes started to roll back into his head.

Voices started to come in like they were being spoken through water - warbling, deep, and far away.

"Stop fighting!"

He saw himself gasp, but the pressure on his chest increased.

Butch said something to Reed. There was a noise. In the back of his mind, he knew it was Evaline.

"Don't even think about moving."

The boot lifted and came down harder.

He was watching himself die.

The scene jumped, and he felt the cold steel of the end of a gun pressed against his head, and an arm tight around his neck. He was watching Butch, now, from further away, and he was underneath him. He saw his fingers twitch.

“What do you think, Butch?” Reed yelled beside his ear. “You think anyone will miss this one?”

Then he jumped again. From one pair of eyes to his own.

In what seemed like slow motion, he felt all of the compounding pain of life leaving him and the last of his consciousness fading.

The last thing he saw was darkness.

Not a face. Not a person. He didn't even hear a noise.

Just pain. Then nothingness.

James's eyes shot open, and he shot up, gasping.

His head started to spin, and his vision was blurry with tears, and he couldn't breathe. He felt cold, and his shirt was sticking to him, drenched with sweat. The fire beside him felt scalding, and he was trembling.

He set down an arm to prop himself up while he wiped his hand across his face to dry his tears.

It took him a second to remember Evaline was there, and he wasn't alone.

Shit.

He'd been doing okay so far. Waking from terrors and brushing them off and rolling over. But there was no way to hide this. He didn't know how to.

His mind and his vision were bleary, but he couldn't help but wonder: was this his fault?

The note, and his denial. Was this because of that?

James swallowed, trying to keep his rattling breath from sounding so, so loud.

Evaline found herself sifting through each thought one-by-one, all the while gazing up at the stars, trying to memorize their placements. She hadn't seen the stars quite like this before, and although she didn't have the opportunity to stargaze like this on Earth, she wanted to memorize the placement of stars in Nye so that she could, maybe one day, compare them to Earth's.

It was nice to get some peaceful solitude after an intense night.

Some time passed, but she didn't move or look away, still deep in thought.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a shuffling in James's direction.

She tilted her head back down and looked over at him, expecting the noise to be him moving in his sleep, like he usually did. But when she looked over, he was trembling and shaking, propping himself up.

And he was... crying, with panicked breaths.

Immediately Evaline was alerted as she sat up straight, even almost frantically approaching up to him to make sure he wasn't attacked or anything.

But then she remembered, of course, there was no attack. She was awake the whole time.

He must have had a nightmare.

"Are you okay?" she asked, worry steeped into her voice. She didn't quite get up or move, but she shifted her position so that she could stand up quickly and move if she needed to.

Seeing James like this reminded her of Butch, and it made her skin crawl knowing that he may be close again.

It took too many seconds for James to register that he'd been asked a question, and by the time he did, he wasn't sure what it was. Context and tone told him enough of what he needed to know to deduce that it was something expressing concern. He just wished he could pull himself together soon enough to dissuade those concerns - or better yet, not be reacting at all. Then he could roll over and forget it.

But he kept feeling it. Every time he pinched his eyes shut, he felt it again.

Death.

Butch, towering over him, stealing away his final breath.

James leaned forward and pulled his knees up to his chest, wishing he could stop shaking like a fall leaf, barely hanging on as the wind blew over, and over. He turned his face away from Evaline and ducked his head between his knees, trying to hide, though he knew it didn't work that way. She would still be able to see him, even if he couldn't see her.

His chest was rattling, and James tried to focus on breathing as he hugged himself tightly. But the more he fought it, the more he felt like he was losing control.

Tears pressed against the back of his eyes again, and he only managed to hold them back for a second before they burst through, streaming down his face.

It was like all of his fears decided to come true at once.

He died, and he failed to save Evaline in the process.

He had already forgotten that Evaline was watching.

Evaline wasn't prepared for what happened next.

James shut down. He buried his head between his knees like he was trying to hide his face from her. His chest heaved up and down, and Evaline was familiar with its movements enough to realize that he may be having a panic attack.

For a split second, she froze. She was bad at words of comfort because she never actually comforted anybody, and suddenly she felt selfish for wanting support and comfort without being able to send it back.

She bit down any thoughts and worries, deciding to quickly rush over to him. She got down on her knees next to him, hesitantly wrapping her arm around his back.

She thought about what to say. What did he say to her all those days ago, before Butch showed up? She couldn't remember right away. But she did remember some of the words he told her, not even an hour ago in her head.

"It's okay," she said, finding her thumb doing the same up-and-down rubbing motion that she now oddly found comforting. "I'm here now."

James felt like he couldn't breathe. No matter how many breaths he tried to take, it wasn't enough. It felt like Butch was still there, choking him out, and he couldn't get away.

James felt an arm touch his back, and he felt like he shrunk into himself. It was just like the dream again. He wasn't here anymore. He was far, far, away. Somewhere where the dead went after they died, or where lost souls went when they were somewhere in-between. It didn't matter that he couldn't breathe anymore, or that his heart was beating like the sound of racing hooves across the forest floor.

He was drifting, distant, and though he could physically feel Evaline next to him, he couldn't quite feel her presence, nor his own.

He closed his eyes.

She told him it was okay, but it wasn't.

She was there, but she didn't have to be.

He was supposed to be the one who was comforting. Not her. He was supposed to be able to figure this out on his own, not burden her with the terrors of his mind. Why couldn't he calm down faster? It was all his fault. He was being too emotional. He just needed to get over it. It was only a dream. It wasn't real. It wasn't real.

But it felt like it was.

Evaline didn't know what was going in his head, but she knew that now was not the time to ask.

What she didn't know was what to do next. James wasn't giving her a response. Did she ever give James a response when he comforted her? She couldn't remember.

She stayed there for some time, arm wrapped around his back as his back moved up and down for each heavy breath. After about a minute of silence, she readjusted her position, copying him by placing her knees to her chest, but sitting close to him.

She rewrapped her arm around his back, pulling him a little tighter than she was before and gently leaning her head on his shoulder.

It wasn't quite a hug, but rather a side-ways half-hug. Given his current posture, she wasn't sure if he wanted to even be touched. It suddenly dawned on her that perhaps James thought the same thing when she was laying down facing away from him, and he pulled her in for a hug anyways.

She stayed there for a few minutes, staring at the fire, feeling his chest move with every breath. Eventually, his breathing slowed. She could hear him crying.

With her free hand, Evaline gently touched his knee, trying to signal without words that she was still here, listening, in a way, but without words.

She had no idea if this was normal or not with him. Whether it was or not, she'd stay here unless he pushed her away.

James was relieved when breathing started to feel normal again, even though that normal was quickly replaced with the irregular breaths of crying - which, though he tried to stifle it - it still came. He did, eventually, manage to stop the tears with some effort. As his tears finally stopped and his face felt the crusty stinging drying tears, his now almost normal breathing started to ground him.

That's when he registered the hug, and Evaline's head on his shoulder. He couldn't help that he immediately stiffened, tensing up into a ball.

He couldn't show weakness like this. She didn't need to know that it bothered him. That touch didn't register as safety anymore. That being held felt like being trapped.

He rubbed his eyes dry, knowing they would already be red from tears. With a final deep breath, he raised his head and gently pulled away from Evaline's touch. He felt a chill run down his spine as he brought his knee away.

He didn't want her to think he didn't appreciate her trying. He just wished she wasn't in this position in the first place, having to see him like this. He wished he'd woken up slowly, at a point where he could control it, and keep it from overflowing.

"Sorry," he finally croaked, knowing everyone hated to hear any crying person apologize, but doing it anyway. "Sorry." His voice was grating like shoes against gravel. Low, and hoarse. "It was just a dream. I'm sorry. Just a dream."

He wasn't sure if he was saying that more for her or himself.

James lightly pushed her away, and without thinking about it, Evaline let him. She lifted her head as he shifted position, pulling her hands and deciding to scoot a small distance away so she was no longer touching him.

She nested her arms on her knees and perched her head on top, still staring at the fire. She didn't dare glance back at James. Something told her that he hated showing weakness. If she were in his shoes, she'd appreciate not getting the extra attention.

"You don't need to apologize," she said gently. "We all have bad dreams sometimes."

James realized he wasn't shaking anymore, but his shirt was wet with sweat, and his bandages were starting to itch. Everything hurt again, and everything from before was flooding back.

The note. The game. Evaline, brushing him off. Him, doing the same to her only minutes later.

He sat up, swallowing back the remains of his tears and the knots in his throat.

"Yeah," he said, not looking at her directly, though he noticed from the corner of his eyes that she was giving him the same treatment.

"This one just... I didn't mean to startle you," he said, already assuming, not sure he wanted to voice what his dream was about.

"That's okay. I was up anyways," she said, trying to say the words as gently as possible, careful to not make any sudden movement that might startle him.

She paused, not sure if she should say the words she wanted to say next. She decided to just say it, figuring the worst he could say was no.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

The note immediately came to mind. The words pricked at him, under his skin.


Spite grew in his gut, and he wished he had the note so he could throw it into the fire again, even though he knew it wouldn't be destroyed.

But Evaline wasn't the note, nor the one who wrote it. She told him they could take their time, and she was being gentle, and patient.

James couldn't remember the last person who'd just... sat with him like that.

He actually couldn't think of anyone.

Besides one. But that wasn't the same.

He found himself feeling stuck like his mouth was glued shut. It took him longer than felt natural to answer.

"I don't know," he finally said.

He looked away, into the fire.

Evaline was in it.

"It was a bad dream."

He paused.

"A nightmare," he corrected.

Evaline thought about the note again. She didn't want to force any information out of him. She wasn't sure this was an appropriate time to even apply the note's logic right now. But maybe, if she opened up a little, so would he.

"I used to have a lot of nightmares," she said watching the embers of the fire rise up to the sky. "Sometimes it was hard to decipher them from reality."

She paused, trying to think of something else to comfort him.

"It helps if you tell yourself it's not real."