The Fateful Heart

Evaline had to pause her work when James straightened his leg a little, almost like he was trying to kick. She glanced back at his face, and a shot of sympathy went through her. He looked so pained. And she had a feeling this was only a surface of it.

She quickly wrapped the first layer of the wound, just enough so that the green salve would stay in place. She'd have to wrap another bandage layer on it, but for now...

With the remaining bandage draped over his leg, she reached over and put her hand on top of his to signify that she was here.

"I'm not trying to hurt you," she said softly with a little squeeze of his hand. "I'll explain all this later. Just give me five minutes. Okay?"

She let go, not waiting for a response, going back to work to finish wrapping the wound while her mind raced on what she could do afterwards to make this as comfortable as possible.

James hated that his reflexes were slowed and he didn't know why. He opened his eyes again, but everything looked blurry. He didn't know what was going on. How had Butch caught up and he hadn't heard? How had he not been woken up?

The fire was going, and suddenly James found himself questioning if he could even remember it going out. He could've sworn it had already died.

He finally was able to make out the hands in front of him. The one pulling away from his. The squeeze had been like a faint sensation compared to everything else, but he didn't recognize it.

Oliver didn't... do that.

Evaline.

It was her voice speaking. Her face started coming into focus. First, her dark hair. Her long braid, falling over her shoulder. Her slender hands, holding a roll of... bandages. She was the one holding his leg. It was her.

For a brief second, the rapid beating of his heart stopped as one question traveled through his mind.

Why?

And then it picked up again, pounding.

The vision of her started to blur again, and he felt his head starting to spin. His leg had hurt when he'd gone to sleep, but not this much.

"What..." he whispered. He squinted his eyes, trying to will them to focus. His head still felt like lead. Like if he tilted to the side, he would topple over in an instant.

"Eve..."

After a few wraps around his leg, Evaline paused to look back up at James, noticing how he seemed to fade in and out. He called her Eve. She... didn't know how to feel about that, although she did say it was fine all those weeks ago.

She shook the thoughts away, hurrying up to finish the job by wrapping the bandage to the very end of the first layer, and then securing it tightly. "There. I'm done," she said, picking his leg up to gently set back on the ground.

She then crawled back towards James, sitting next to him. She noticed that dawn was creeping on the horizon, and although the fire was still burning, it will die within the hour unless she fed it again.

Evaline looked down at his hand again, deciding to quietly place her fingertips on top of his. She wasn't sure what he was thinking, but she suspected that was thinking he was trapped in a nightmare, and she wanted to let him know that they were okay.

"You need some time to wake up," she said, eyes glued on his own eyes flashing in and out of consciousness. "Rest for a few minutes. I'll explain everything. Just know... we're okay."

I'll explain everything.

Something had to be explained?

Just know... we're okay.

James felt her fingertips brush up against his. Normally, he might've pulled his hand away, but the touch was grounding. It helped distract from his newly-wrapped leg, and the burning. It helped distract from the sludge swirling around in his brain like waves of drowsiness.

He felt his head nod forward and it jerked back up, hitting the wall behind him. He didn't know how much time had passed before that happened. He couldn't even remember his eyes closing again. He took in a sharp breath and opened his eyes again, seeing that the fire was still alive. It couldn't have been that long.

He turned his head to the side, to see Evaline beside him. He still felt her touch at his fingertips.

Why did nothing feel quite real?

He looked at her with half-lidded eyes that didn't want to stay open, and he curled his fingers and thumb around hers. She felt like she was actually here. He wasn't dreaming. The pain, certainly, wasn't a dream.

"Butch," he managed to say, feeling like his voice was so loud in his head, but so quiet outside it. "Reed. Are they...?"

Evaline was pleasantly surprised to see James tighten his grip around her hand.

"No," she said softly, sliding her hand so that her palm would be over his. She wrapped her fingers around his palm, her thumb rubbing his as a means of support.

"It's just me. We're safe. Nothing to worry about."

She continued to watch him struggle in this state, like he wanted to talk and get away and think clearly, but couldn't. She hoped she never had to see him again like this, especially if the circumstances were not as lucky.

Of course, she had to explain everything to him. Marsha, being able to do fire magic and speak the same language, drugging him to keep herself safe, her concern and kindness, the magic medicine. The part Evaline was not looking forward to the most in retelling involved his inevitable question of "how many wounds did you go through," but perhaps he wouldn't even bring it up. Perhaps this was a sensitive subject for him.

She looked back down at their locked hands and then gave him a little squeeze.

"Try to get some rest. I'll explain everything when you wake up. Okay?"

James was trying so hard to fight it. He felt like he was fading in and out. One moment he was aware that Eve was there, and the next, her words were like a faint hum.

They were safe. He needed to get some rest.

Why? He felt the light of the slow-rising sun. He knew something was wrong. They were safe, but something still wasn’t right.

He tried moving again. His eyelids slid shut as he focused his energy on trying to lift his legs, but then there was that same blinding pain again. He squeezed Evaline’s hand. Hard.

And then he realized he was holding her hand. Or she was holding his. He couldn’t remember.

He felt his head rolling to the side, and his breath caught in his throat as the burning swallowed up his senses.

“Mm,” he grunted, relenting his death grip on her hand. His hand relaxed as sleep - or something else - pulled him back out of consciousness, and his body went limp.

Evaline grimaced as James strongly squeezed her hand like his life depended on making sure he held on, but she waited it out and didn't retract her grip. Eventually he loosened up and seemed to accept the drowsiness, limping to the side again.

Evaline breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back, watching as the sun slowly began to creep up from the horizon, waking the day up. She could let go of him, but...

She didn't really want to.

James may be able to appreciate her identifying the infected wound on his leg and applying medicine on it, but he was not going to appreciate her going through his other wounds to find the problem area. Even if she didn't tell him, he was bound to find out. No, he will find out, if he didn't already. How else would she be able to explain him being shirtless and having freshly wrapped bandages?

He wasn't going to like it because he didn't want her to know how he became injured. It was classic James to keep such pain to himself like this and instead worry about every tiny injury someone else may have, even if it was trivial.

But she knew now, and it made her appreciate him more. He was more than just a man escaping the consequences of treason; he was a man on the run escaping perpetual suffering for an act of integrity.

At least, that was what she could assume from the little he had shared. There was still a lot she didn't know about him, and a lot he didn't know about her. She had to wonder if they would see each other the same way if they did know everything about each other.

Evaline rubbed her thumb on his again, thinking through her thoughts as she brought her knees to her chest, staring ahead again. There was a lot to think about.

But for now, the most important thought was making sure she would do everything in her power to prevent James from being tortured again.

James was restless for a while, somewhere in a state between sleep and consciousness. Every once in a while he would remember the warmth of the sun, or the touch of Evaline’s hand, or the wall of dirt against his back, but the pain was always present. Pulsing, but present. When the bleariness finally started to fade like a slow-receding wave into the ocean, James finally had a moment of clarity.

He opened his eyes, and he felt like he could finally see. Vision, unobstructed by whatever was wrapped around his mind.

And he felt terrible.

The first thing he noticed was his shirt was gone. The second thing he noticed was his bandages felt clean and changed. The third thing he noticed was Evaline beside him, holding his hand.

A terrifying wave of panic hit him and he pulled his hand away, looking around their campsite. The fire was dead. The sun was up. Elliot seemed fine. But he was not where he’d fallen asleep, and... and...

He looked down at himself as it sunk in.

Evaline had done this. Taken his bandages off. While he was asleep? How had he not woken up? She... that meant she’s seen everything.

He stared at Evaline. He felt like he wasn’t there anymore. He was watching himself react from a distance. His expression, blank and hardened. His body shutting down. And he couldn’t do anything about it.

“What happened?” he asked lowly. And urgently. Like a demand.

Evaline stayed there for some time, knees and arm to her chest, with her free hand still locked around James's hands. She felt herself clamming up, but she still didn't let go. She was hoping her touch would make him feel better, but oddly, his calloused rough skin was a comforting to her, too.

That was, until he woke up in a panicked state and whipped his hand away.

She could understand how afraid and violated he must feel right now, but he wasn't exactly in a state for her to explain everything before. Even though she had mentally prepared for this, she dreaded for this moment to come, and she still felt like she wasn't ready.

His panic seemed to bring out her panic, and she quickly got up on her feet and put her hands out in front of her. Although she didn't realize it at the time, she was treating him like she would treat Elliot if he was in a panicked frenzy.

"Whoa there, it's okay, it's okay, I can explain," she said quickly, taking a few steps back.

She knew what she was wanted to say, but the nervous spur-of-the-moment decision caused her to blank on how exactly she wanted to say it, and so she did what she could do best when anxious: say all of it.

"A goblin sneaked up on us at the middle of the night. Her name is Marsha. But she wasn't bad! She was good. Well, except she drugged you. See, over there on the ground, that's the feathered needle. She used that to put you to sleep, so I couldn't wake you up. But she only did that because you had a weapon. I don't know what weapon you have, and I didn't even know you sleep with a weapon, but I guess it makes sense given your circumstance. Still, she must have detected it somehow, and thought that if she had approached you, she would be attacked. And she was probably right, knowing you. It was probably a good thing she did that, too, because she helped you. I thought goblins were violent, like you said, but she seemed to care. I think she was part of the goblin crowd who attacked Butch. I think she was there and remembered you. She told me she smelled an infection on you and so she gave me this magic healing medicine in a vial and told me to put it on the wound and leave it for three days. She left after that, and I figured you were not going to trust a goblin who drugged you, but she told me you could die. Die. I couldn't just do nothing! So I tried to help you, but then I realized I had forgotten to ask which wound she was talking about, so I kind of had to check all of them. I don't care how you look! I mean, I do, but I mean! Not in that way, especially if this is life or death. And I tried to be fast enough so I wouldn't wake you, but I had gone through the injuries on your chest, and none of them looked infected. Don't worry, I didn't take any more clothes off, I just rolled up your pants and looked under your knee, and then I saw what Marsha was referencing. Your leg was infected. It was badly infected. I put the medicine on it, but you were waking up, and you looked so pained, so I tried to keep you comfortable, and that was why we were..."

With every sentence she said, her face was becoming more and more pink and her hands more and more frantic as they waved around. By the end of her trailed off sentence, she bit her lip, furrowed her brows, and looked at James with a stern expression despite her face having gone hot.

"Why didn't you tell me you were hurt that bad?!"

James sat still as the words began running out of Evaline's mouth. He stared at her, trying to keep up with each passing development in her story, but frankly, he wasn't sure that all of it sunk in.

A goblin showed up while he was asleep, drugged him, gave her medicine for his leg, and left. And then she spent the remaining time he was out searching his body for the infected wound before she applied said medicine to his leg.

The only fact she said that he could confirm himself was that his leg had been infected. He'd caught it a few days prior, and had given his best attempts to clean it and keep it from getting worse, but he could vaguely remember - between the pain of burning ingestion from the pepper, and the burning of his leg - that it had started to feel worse.

He'd hoped he could sleep it off.

He hadn't, though. He'd been drugged, which would explain why he hadn't woken up for any of this - Evaline changes his bandages should have woken him, but he couldn't deny what he was looking at. His shirt was gone, and his bandages were clean and changed.

So he had been drugged.

But the goblin? Why the goblin? He had to believe it. Evaline seemed sincere. But... she put medicine that she got from a stranger in his wound, and it was too late to know if it was really going to help him or hurt him. The deed had been done. They'd have to wait it out.

All of those logical thoughts sped through his brain at the same rate as the rising panic that she had seen everything came like a loud scream, threatening to drown everything else out.

He realized he stopped listening for a moment and returned just as she trailed off. His heart was racing again, and he just wished the anxiety would go away. He watched as her face turned pink, and he wished he'd heard what she said because even despite not knowing, he felt his cheeks beginning to burn too.

He stared at her, not sure how to respond to any of this.

He needed a moment. A day. A year to think and process, but he knew he didn't have that.

"I..." he started.

Did she mean the infection?

Did she mean everything?

His eyes dropped to the ground.

"I didn't... I didn't want you to know."

Evaline stared at him, lips tightly pursed as she let out a poisonous glare at him that seemed to result from a mixture of hurt and anger. It was hard to read what she was feeling right now, but somehow, it looked to be a combination of embarrassment, empathy, sadness, fury, and rage.

"Why?" she said through her teeth, but it still sounded choked. "You should have told me. I had no idea you were going through that. Why? Why do you keep putting yourself over others? I don't understand!"

Her words were getting more and more exasperated, and it was clear that it this point, she didn't hold back her thoughts. Whatever gentle and calm feelings she had for him when he was under the drug's influence seemed to disappear like dust in the wind.

"You need to tell me these things, James!" she yelled with glossy locked eyes, her glare softening. "You could have died. And I don't know what I would have done if that happened!"

She was upset. Rightfully so. He didn't think his explanation would matter, and he didn't know if she wanted to hear it. He glanced up at her for a moment, but he couldn't meet her eyes, and they dropped back into his lap.

This would be easier if he wasn't in so much pain.

"I only spotted the infection yesterday," he said quietly. "I thought... I thought it was going to be okay."

That wasn't entirely true. He wasn't stupid. He was just helpless to know how to fix it. He'd been trying for so long to keep it clean so it could heal, and he didn't know what he did wrong. He really thought he had been doing the best he could do with what he had, but maybe that wasn't enough.

He didn't know what else to say.

"I'm sorry."

For a few moments, Evaline kept her unwavering mix-of-emotions stare at him before she closed her eyes and shook her head. She was used to this escalating to a full-blown argument. James apologizing to her when she was the one who had gone through his private injuries while he was asleep made her realize that she had flipped the victim card in the argument.

It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault.

But at the same time, it felt like it was. Because if he had truly died from the infection, there was nothing she could do about it. She wouldn't be able to save him. She couldn't go back that far. She wouldn't be able to save him, and she'd blame herself for not catching it sooner.

Evaline dropped her head, taking a deep breath in and out to calm her nerves.

"It's not your fault," she said in a quieter controlled voice this time. "But I want you to know that it's not okay. It's not okay if you had died like that."

She took another deep breath before meeting his eyes again with a softer look.

"I hope you can understand why I did what I did. It was easier this way. I'm sorry if you're in pain, but... I couldn't risk you dying."

James couldn’t quite figure out what he was feeling. He just knew that from the start, since he’d been aware of his vulnerable state, and what had happened, that he felt very, very far away.

It was hard to convince his emotions how this was different. Evaline wasn’t trying to hurt him. She only wanted to help. She was worried. She cared. But that didn’t change the fact that the moment he finally came to he didn’t feel safe anymore.

Evaline had to know. She just wasn’t saying it. She was focused on his leg, and the infection - and those were logically the most pressing concerns - but all James could think about was how she’d gone through everything. Wound, by wound. She wasn’t an idiot. She would know that he wasn’t just hurt feom running away.

He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to talk about it. And she had valid points, and she kept talking, and he heard her but he didn’t.

She couldn’t risk him dying because he was her only contact. He was the only person she knew. He was associated with the note. He was her guide. He was keeping her safe. Helping her to survive. The key to her getting home.

“I understand,” he said lowly.

He was meeting her eyes, but his body felt vacant.

He didn’t want to die. Not really.

There were just some things in life he’d never been prepared for.

He dropped his gaze again, looking at his hands in his lap. He didn’t want to look up at Evaline. He wanted to hide. He wanted to be invisible.

“I hope the medicine works,” he said, his voice hollow. “It’s a good thing the goblin came when she did.”

The tenseness between the two of them seemed to shift. Evaline couldn't quite put her finger on it; she had never been very good at predicting how others felt. But right now, she could tell James was recoiling. He should be mad at her, and she would be mad that he was mad, but she'd eventually come to terms with it.

But outside of his waking question, he wasn't mad. He barely even seemed to react.

Did she say something wrong? Or was this how James normally was? She didn't know. Last time she peeved him was when he found out about the first note, but she explained everything, and conversation seemed to flow as expected. This was different. She just didn't really know why.

She took another deep breath in and out, letting the heat in her cheeks fade away. It was time to think in a clearer head this time. She had to be more careful about what to say and how to say it.

Problem was, she didn't know what else to say.

Evaline nodded at his comments and looked down at his freshly wrapped leg and then back up at him, trying to read his expression. She couldn't, like always.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

It was a general question with many implications, but she still had to ask.