The Fateful Heart 2

James tensed again, but this time, he took a moment to breathe deep, concentrate on washing his chest, and think about other things. Being a hero. He almost wanted to laugh.

"Nowadays, I'm not so sure," he said. "I think I realized the people who are truly heroic never really get recognized for what they do, and the adulation I had for people in power was misplaced. I wanted recognition. I wanted the adoration, but I didn't consider the cost..."

He paused again and sighed.

"I was naïve."

Evaline almost had to ask James to repeat himself.

Did she hear that right? He wanted the recognition, the adoration, the fame? It seemed out of character for him, but she knew that this was old history. People do change. Still, she wondered how big that change was for him, and what caused it.

"I don't think it's naïve," she said, gently rubbing his back with the washcloth in a slow, methodical, and organized manner.

She thought about continuing with soft words of affirmation, but did that really even help in the grand scheme of things? Wouldn't having an open, honest discussion with a friend be more helpful?

She thought back to what he said from the first days they met: he was a traitor because he stopped the king's plans.

"I think we all have different definitions of heroism," she continued, focusing on her hand traveling up and down his back. "Mine, for instance, is serving justice and doing the right thing, whatever the cost. The consequences were steep for you, but you still did the right thing. The public may not know the true story, but it doesn't make you any less of a hero."

You're a hero to me, she wanted to say, but then realized how cheesy that sounded.

James found himself agreeing with her definition too, but he didn't quite know how to respond when she turned it into a compliment. He started scrubbing his armpit.

He wanted to explain it more. Why he'd joined the army, why he wanted recognition in the first place. He was afraid he'd made it sound like he wanted it for the fame and the glory, but at the time, he felt like it was necessary. Like, if he didn't accomplish that, then everything would fall out from under him.

He'd felt like he'd had to prove that he wasn't a waste of space, and convinced himself that the only way to do so was to be as "successful" as possible.

But if he wanted to explain that in detail, he'd have to bring up Carter again, and he didn't want to at the moment. His mind was already barely trudging out of one hell and he didn't want to walk into another.

"If anyone outside of the palace knew the true story," he said slowly. "Things would be very different, that's for sure."

Evaline soaked the washcloth in the water and drunk it several times before wringing the water back on James's back to wash away the dirt, grime, and layer of soap suds.

"A good different, I assume," she said.

Because he wouldn't be an outlaw. He wouldn't need to run. He wouldn't have met Butch. And most of all, he'd get the hero status he wanted.

James was quiet for a moment.

"...Maybe," he said, gazing out into the room in thought. He should've been looking at where he was scrubbing though. The washcloth he was holding caught onto a flap of skin around the knife wound from the thief, and James grit his teeth and hissed. His whole body stiffened up and he slowly pulled his hand away, looking down at it.

A string of curses ran through his head when he saw that it had reopened, and was bleeding again.

Gods. Okay. He couldn't get blood everywhere.

He pressed his palm against the wound.

"I'm bleeding again," he said through his teeth.

Evaline finished washing away the soap off James's back and was about to redo the process to scrub away any last stubborn bits of grime that cling to his skin, but then he announced that he was bleeding.

"Ah," she said, deciding that may as well be done now. He was likely referencing the fresh wound with the thieves. They had been in the water for a while, so maybe any scabbing could have easily been scraped off when he tried to clean it.

She did her best to not cause any more panic than necessary.

"Make sure you apply pressure on it with the washcloth. Are you just done scrubbing? I think it might be time for you to dry anyways."

She went over to the edge, splashing out of the tub. "Let me get you a towel," she continued, walking over to the nearby cabinet and pulling out a fluffy towel. It was strange, knowing that this was the first bath towel she had seen in Nye. At this point, she was getting used to airdrying after a wash.

She left messy wet footsteps on the floor behind her, but then came walking back, offering it out to him.

James pressed his lips together and grabbed the washcloth, pressing it against the bleeding wound. He was wary of leaving evidence. A bloody washcloth... well, there were only so many things that could explain that.

He focused on applying pressure as Evaline got out and only looked up to the towel stretched out to him. With one hand, he took it and slung it over his shoulders. He couldn't exactly wrap it around himself one-handedly while half in the water. Actually, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to manage it at all.

He stepped over to the edge of the pool and found what felt like a step he could use as leverage for getting out.

"If you could... look away, for a moment."

"Of course," Evaline said with a slight nod, and then turned to walk back towards the towels. She grabbed one out and started drying herself, ruffling through her sopping wet hair first. She was clean enough, and it was probably time that they both dried off so that they'd be clothed and ready to go when their time was up.

"Just let me know," she said to James.

"Will do," James said stiffly. He then hurdled over the side of the pool quickly, keeping his hand over his ribs, but awkwardly. The towel almost fell off his shoulders, but he caught it with his other hand and grabbed it under his elbow and the other end with one hand. Keeping one end pinned with his elbow against his stomach, he painstakingly managed to wrap it around his waist.

He didn't trust it to stay, though, so he held it near the fold, and walked over to the bench where all of his clothes were piled up, and sat on the end that was clear. He kept his eyes down, even though he knew Evaline didn't really care. But he did, so he didn't look up.

"If I had to guess," he thought out loud. "We probably have 20 to fifteen minutes left."

Evaline almost glanced over at James when he sat on the bench, but stopped herself when she remembered that James didn't give her an okay. When she got absorbed most of the liquid on her hair, she wrapped the towel around her body. For James's sake.

She was glad he told her the time estimate. It helped her recalibrate her internal clock that was all jumbled up after the memory.

"Seems like plenty of time to dry then," she said, looking down and sitting on the bench opposite of him and on the other end to maximize space between them.

"And hopefully enough time to stop the bleeding," he said, leaning his head back on the bathhouse wall.

He had to focus, putting both hands over the rag, which now was feeling wet with something thicker than water.

He wondered if he could just... toss it. But where?

He glanced over at Evaline but pulled his eyes away. He wasn't sure if he needed to ask for help drying himself off, but 15 minutes in a steamy room likely wouldn't give him enough time to dry if he didn't pat himself down. It was just that - well - his hands were occupied.

He closed his eyes for a moment and growled softly, deep in his throat.

It wasn't awkward if he didn't make it awkward. He just had to ask.

"Maybe not now," he said. "But... soonish, I might need help drying. And rebandaging. It would make things faster."

And easier. Less painful. He hoped those things were implied. He still found himself tripping over telling the details. It was stupidly hard enough just to ask for help.

Evaline slouched forward, her forearm propped on her knees. James asked for her help, and she was glad for it. She wanted to help.

She tried to imagine helping dry him off, and maybe it was because they were sitting across each other without their clothes, but she imagined it being more intimate than washing his back.

Or would have been intimate, anyways, if she didn't think about all the scars he had. The bleeding, the scabbing, the burn, the scars...

"I'd be happy to help," she said, face still lowered. "And I'm glad you're letting me know. It's really no big deal for me to help."

James nodded slowly and let a bout of silence follow as he stared out into the steamy room. Most of the candles were still flickering, except for two that Evaline knocked over the edge. Fortunately, they didn't look broken. Just a little jostled.

His mind started drifting, wondering how Kurt and Liana might explain the little mess they were leaving. He didn't get very far into hypotheticals before he started to feel his face burn. If it wouldn't have been alarming for Evaline, he would've slapped himself in the head. Instead, he simply shook it rapidly, just for a moment. Little drops of water flicked off his hair onto his shoulders.

"I look forward to another full meal later," he said, changing the topic. "They've all been very generous."

Evaline decided to not linger at the thoughts in front of her: about how the memory kept replaying in her mind, and how she had washed James's back, and how he sat in front of him with just a towel, and how his wounds will still open, and how he asked for her help, and how she'll help him dry off and rebandage him later...

She was glad he said something completely unrelated.

"I do too," she said. "It's strange to see such kindness out here." Or anywhere, really. "But I'm glad they found us. I don't know how..."

She trailed off, deciding to not finish her thought. How long would they have lasted in their state last night?

"We got lucky," she finished instead.

"Lucky, yes," he agreed.

He closed his eyes again and sighed.

"I don't know if I felt like myself back in that cave."