FlightlessBird

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The young man’s response was both acerbic and a bit amusing - if Joaquin was in a light-hearted mood.  But the freeze put a literal damper on his usual enthusiasm, and so the old monk just frowned back.

“While that might be true, it’s wise we at least try to keep track of each other during these unpredictable happenings.  Tomas is no - oh!”  Joaquin spoke over the young man’s griping, just as the poor thing slipped in the unsteady snow and fell.  Joaquin tried to catch him, but really that just made Joaquin slip as well, and he fell face-down in the snow next to the other man.

“Tabarnak de calisse!”  he swore, then looked up to the sky.  “Lo siento, Madre…” he apologized to no one.  Joaquin raised himself up to his knees, and gazed down at the young man.  “Oh my dear. Are you alright?  Treacherous, terrible substance, this snow.  I know snow is as much God’s creation as the sun, or any other weather but–”  

Instead of helping James sit up, Joaquin leaned to right the crate and start loading the bottles back into it.  “ – but this is simply intolerable.  Look what it’s doing to us.  Making good, hard-working men like yourself, slip and nearly cause accident!  Are you sure you’re alright, hijo?”

✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶ James was hardly paying attention to what the older man was saying when he slip and fell. Something about unprecedented times. Fair enough though he doubted the snow would do much harm. Beyond the frostbite the poor crops were experiencing. Though he was the last person to talk considering he’d just slipped and fallen in the snow. Always the over-thinker he considered what might have happened if he had slipped and landed on a rock. Would Iyaz help him? Or was it better to just bleed out and save himself the embarrassment, save himself from owing Iyaz a favor? Bleeding out for sure.

James’ eyes were shut tight as he tried to cope with the pain. No rock to the head but it still wasn’t a pleasant feeling. Rapid fire Spanish filled his ears and he wondered for a brief second if he really had hit his head-- only to open his eyes and see the other man looking to the sky and apologizing. James started to sit up, feeling a bit wobbly. “God... God created a lot of bullshit,” he pointed out. “If we’re going to curse the snow... Well, I can just think of a long list of other things we might need to discuss with the old man upstairs.” It was odd to talk about God considering the circumstances. Them being on hell island or in purgatory or whatever this place really was. 

James finally managed to sit up fully, holding the back of his head. He turned and saw the man fixing the crate and bottles. “I....” James started. This man was odd. Overly kind but it didn’t feel fake or forced. “I’m fine thank you. I’ve had much, much worse falls,” he chuckled to himself aware that the joke was really only funny to him. Still, he sat in the snow, not yet attempting to stand. “You’re a hard working man yourself. Cleaning up my accident. Asking where Tomas is.

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Becca’s mouth opened about to respond to James sarcasm first before he did mention attunement – albeit, pronounced incorrectly. Her lips curled upward in quiet amusement, but she gave a kind confirming nod instead. “Right. Attunement, is what some people call it. Other people just say magic. It’s connected to the elements.” She didn’t know how much people before her had said, after all. “I handle water, for instance. It can help day to day, or…not so much.” Becca crossed her arms, biting the inside of her cheek as she tried to think of how to say it not too shockingly, “I mean – gains and weaknesses. Like water-attuned people have to be really careful about keeping hydrated and heatstroke. Earth-attuned islanders…well, they’re known for sinking easily.” She sugarcoated drowning. “I guess they’re sturdier and weightier.” Becca shrugged. “That might be part of what happened to you.”

She laughed when James attempted to compromise her praises, “Yeah, if you want. But the currents certainly helped. It just took…a little persuasion.” Becca pointed back out to the ocean just behind them, still lapping and spraying behind them.

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James blinked when Becca called it attunement which made a lot more sense than the term Emre had taught him. Bastard. Probably did it intentionally. “Well, I’m not calling it magic,” he told her firmly. “Attunement,” he muttered to himself. It was still hard, near impossible to accept. Katie once insisted on doing his zodiac chart and the thing drove him mad. Why the hell would Venus being in pisces matter or better yet, what did that even mean? But it was much harder to argue attunements weren’t real. Hell, Emre had almost killed him with his own attunement. Meanwhile, Becca had saved him. 

“Same as Emre,” James interjected, the man already on his mind. Well then clearly attunements weren’t about personalities. He didn’t really know Becca but he struggled to see how she could share any traits with the mad-lad-Emre. Fucking gob. He blinked when she explained earth-attuned people being heavier, prone to sinking in water. He looked down, his wavering reflection in the waves. “I drowned I think, getting here...” It wasn’t as if he remembered it. Falling, that he remembered, to the point sometimes when he closed his eyes he could still see the sky above lined by the ragged cliff edges. But surely he hit the water and drowned at some point. Or-- washed up here he supposed. 

“You don’t have to minimize what you did,” he told her. “Even if the waves were in your favor, my body was not.” He looked down at his hand, flexing his fingers. Hiking and climbing was one of his favorite things, a way to forget the stress and pressure of his job and family. Somehow clinging to the side of a mountain was less stressful than family dinners. “So... what else does it mean to be earth attuned. If you know that is...”

Please forget me, you were right dear, I am cold and self-involved, And though I'll miss you, recent lover I am weak and therefore fold

Get distracted by my music, Think of nothing else but art I'll write my loneliness in poems, If I can just think how to start

"I'm sorry comes to mind. Then again that doesn't have much gravitas, does it? Nor do I think Lillian would find it especially moving. I don't know if there are words. Or if I could ever say it in a timely manner. Instead, maybe I would just thank her. She stood by me during the toughest times and loved me for who I was-- at least for a time."

"Elias... I'd just tell him he's a good man. It's not his fault what happened. I was the one who should have had his head on straight and he... he just needed someone. Somehow, for some reason, I was that person. A rubbish choice if you ask me but that's why I do think Elias is a good, wonderful man. He saw something good in me. He once told me something similar about Lark... that Lark saw something in him and chose him of all people."

"I suppose that's all just love in the end. Choosing someone, flaws and all. That doesn't mean I ever expected it to happen to me. Or that I ever appreciated it as much as I should. Even if I did-- I do, love Lillian and... and Elias matters to me. He matters a lot."

“Ahhh, but you always think everything’s messing with you royally. Or that every one wants to mess with you royally.” Not swearing was an affectation of Teak’s; in the closest of company (i.e. his brother Jamie or Grandfather) he would let a few loose, but to everyone else, Teak embodied the idea of the American too caught up in childish Puritanism to even say ‘shit’ instead of ‘sugar’. It drove people crazy. It was frickin’ hilarious.

Hugging people who didn’t like being hugged was another good time in the making, and from how James’ body went stiff and pained in Teak’s embrace, he had achieved it. Especially when James followed up Teak’s off-colour comment with an objection, and Teak shrugged and said blithely, “I dunno, man. Lillian always seemed to me like a destination holiday. Where just arriving there was boast-worthy enough. Between you and me?” Teak leaned in, waggling his groomed eyebrows, “I think she liked that, too.”

But James, spoilsport that he was, sighed in something like defeat as he bemoaned the particular flavour of reunions he’d had so far on the island. “I’m not angry at you either,” Teak said, as if that had ever been in question or was even his to feel. “It doesn’t have to be awkward. I mean, Lil’s not here, is she? So there’s no reason for it. All that’s between us now is memories of her.”

A statement which, of all things, made Teak feel sort of a wrenching in his gut. He hadn’t thought about Lil in ages – although there had been a time when she was all he could think about. Teak’s visits to London had been mostly about Jamie and business, but in a way, that was exactly why he and Lillian had crashed together; Teak was not a person accustomed to living in his emotions. Seeing his beloved little brother enlivened his feelings, made him more raw and open, and Lil could smell rawness like a goddamn shark.

“You’re not happy to see Lark?” Teak asked instead.

“Because they do want to mess with me,” James replied with a frown, his tone indignant like a child’s. Teak was always such a golden boy. Attractive, well mannered, charismatic-- essentially what every father wanted for his heir apparent. Well, except his own father. Arthur Crain could never stand someone so carefree, so touchy. After all, this was far from the first hug James had received from the man. All of them memorable by virtue of being extremely annoying. Still, James had never disliked Teak per-say. They were different people but it wasn’t like all rich people were the same. Especially comparing the old money of England to the old money of the states. 

No, James didn’t very much mind Teak or think of him in any strong way. Before he and Lillian hooked up that was. It had been years ago when James was still in university. The pair had been arguing about his mother of all things when they decided they needed a break, timing out perfectly to when Lillian was going back home for a month. James hated every moment of it which was probably the point. The break making him appreciate Lillian; spirited but not bubbly, smart but not brash, but most of all she understood him. Listened to him. God when had anyone in his life just listened. When she returned to London James told her he loved her, he missed her, that he would fix things.

She told him she’d slept up with Teak god-damn Middleton of all people. Her furrowed his brows at the description of his wife as some destination holiday. What the hell did that make him then? A local? And Teak the tourist? James didn’t like that at all but he just sighed. “Lillian probably would be flattered by that comment. Flattered but not impressed,” he made the distinction. “Not like she ever needed anyone to tell he she was wonderful. She knew,” a hint of a smirk pulled at James lips as he spoke of his wife. 

“No, she’s not,” he informed Teak. “Thank God.” Lillian could probably handle the island better than either man but what had she ever done to deserve living on an island like this? James knew his sins. Despite everyone insisting this wasn’t hell, and in a literal sense James agreed with them, it certainly wasn’t a random creation. It couldn’t be. How else would he and others keep running into people so key to their past? Piper had mentioned something about the island bringing people together, like loose threads tucked into some tapestry. Teak was perhaps a loose thread in the tapestry of James’ life. Or maybe more a bramble stuck to the wool. 

When James washed up on the island he was at least thankful it was warm, tropical and beautiful. The sort of place people payed good money to visit on holiday. Now, trudging through the snow in his now very worn hiking boots, he recognized that the island really did just exist to fuck with him. Fuck with the whole island to be frank-- but it did feel rather a kick in the face to be immediately hit with a snow storm a month after arriving. A snow storm. On a tropical island. “Is this ironic?” he asked aloud despite believing he was alone. “Cold hearted, robot-boy Crain, now stuck in an icy wonderland? Brilliant. Shakespearean even.”

It was then he noticed he wasn’t quite alone, the visage of a woman with dark skin and curly sitting on a log nearby. The two just looked at each other for a long moment. James had had similar stare offs with old men in bars around the world, the vacant look of someone floating along like a cork in wine. James made a sound in the back of his throat, a bit of a chuckle a bit of a scoff, when he noticed a bottle in the woman’s hand. “Found some brandy? Ale to warm the stomach?” He teased, figuring the woman was sipping juice and wishing it were alcohol. 

James rubbed his hands together for warmth. “I was never much one for drinking. Nor anything of the sort-- hated not being in control. But damn, that would help pass the time wouldn’t it? Help with this bloody cold too.” At this point he was surely a lightweight, having not had a pint or a sip of wine in over a month. Not that he was ever known for holding his drink. Lillian loved getting him “drunk” at Christmas-- that was to let him have about four strong drinks and laugh at his slurred words and red face. Since it was always just the two of them he let her have her fun and see him in a state. But no one else had seen him that way. Well-- there was that time Katie and Lark convinced him to smoke weed but that was peer pressure at it’s finest. 

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Ok, maybe that was a weird question. Amelia didn’t really know what you asked farmers. Before the island almost all of her food had arrived pre-packaged, pre-cooked and frozen. (It was cheap and it took months to go out of date, the staple of fathers who usually forgot to go grocery shopping and students who couldn’t be bothered.) But what else was she supposed to say? Maybe she was supposed to comment on the weather, or just ignore him completely but she didn’t want him thinking she didn’t know he was here or that she was rude or something.

But plentiful sounded like as good a response as any, so she just nodded and dropped the avocado into her bag. “Glad I managed to snag one, then.” Damn if avocados went that fast maybe she would have to risk swinging by on a morning every now and then. “I’m not huge on crowds rushing around.” Amelia explained away with a shrug and wave of her hand. It was mostly true; the crowds milling about in clubs or parks were different, less threataning, but the stampedes of people all rushing for some limited resource… The idea spooked her a tad. 

“It’s not odd. I… Well, I used to live out in the jungle so I gathered food for myself.” Tomas had stopped by with a few of their supplies every now and again and she debated telling him as much just to proove… Well, she wasn’t sure what. “But with everything that just happened…” Amelia trailed off with a sigh, staring down at fruit that suddenly looked less appealing. “I didn’t want to be out there anymore, so I have to get used to getting my supplies a different way.” 

“Crowds I understand...” James said trying to make conversation. The early morning scramble for food was perhaps the closest he ever felt to being back at home. No one was ever cruel or attempted to hurt one another. It wasn’t boxing day sales. But there was urgency, and just the hint in the air that every man was for himself. A return to form, to selfishness. Of course it faded not five minutes into the ‘rush’ when he often saw people trading or casually discussing what they planned to do with the food they’d acquired. No one even commented on the amount of food each person took, as if people held zero judgement or had any suspicions that someone might be hoarding. James wasn’t quite so relaxed for that. Yet.

“The jungle? By yourself?” It didn’t seem the sort of thing anyone would lie about but what sort of madwoman would she have to be to step into the jungle, with it’s darkness and eerie aura and think, ah yes-- I’ll settle here. Though that would explain her awkwardness gathering food now. Hearing the way her voice trailed when she mentioned everything he was inclined even more to believe she had lived in the jungle. Had being the key word. “Well uh...” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I just arrived a week or two ago... so I’ve also been getting used to gathering supplies.” Hell, before the island he didn’t even go grocery shopping for himself. 

“Did you ever hunt pigs?” James asked rather suddenly, recalling his own first escapade in the jungle. 

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“All these years you’d think you’d have gotten better at giving them, or at least making it less obvious when you’re being cloying.” In truth there was nothing especially suspicious about how James started their conversation. Iyaz would have assumed the worst of the man even if he was completely genuine and gentlemanly. “And you should know. I don’t give special treatment for compliments.” There was something smugly satisfying about James wanting to give him compliments even if it was to suck up to him. Especially if it was to suck up to him–he had a degree and experience–why shouldn’t James want to get on his good side.

Still, it was infuriating that James could sit here and be so calm about everything. He wasn’t even horrified by the sheer coincidence that the child he used to bully was here. One would have thought James barely remembered him at all; an awkward teen turned  resident island doctor holding James’ life in his hands. Or, at least at this moment a moderately nasty splinter which depending on the likelihood of infection might have the possibility of being life threatening. Iyaz rolled his eyes when he actually got closer to the wound. 

“It’s possible your body might work this out on it’s own, or even break it down.” He pulled a face, lips twitching to the side. “Or it might result in sepsis and you’ll lose your whole hand.” He shrugged, nonchalant at the thought of potentially amputating James’ limb. His expression pinched together again to consider the other man. 

“Oh, James, mate, no. You’re not a robot.” He grinned already too pleased with himself. “You’ve chosen to be a complete tool. A robot doesn’t have that choice.” His grin only widened, letting James natter on about how pretty or nice Lark was, something bird-like. He was busy bending over and searching about his tiny make-shift office for the tools he actually needed. “At least you’ve got some semblance of a healthy relationship. The pair of you.”  He replied in that half-listening not entirely relevant way. Drawing up to his full height when he finally found the needle he was looking for. 

“I expect you’re on it to be miserable as far as the island is concerned.” There was a meanness in his words not directed at James. Meridium had taken so much from him as of late. He eyed James up and down, finally seeing that there may be something useful to being cold and shut off. “Right.” He exhaled, eyes flicking out to the doorway. “There’s a pot of water outside. As helpful as my mud treatment is for my skin, I expect you don’t want the same for your finger.” He gestured to the outside, indicating without saying anything he expected James to give him room to walk through. “Forgiveness or none I’m not about to get a reputation for being sloppy.”

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“Authenticity is not my speciality,” James admitted cooly. Not like he had a reason to put up any other sort of front with Iyaz. It was almost freeing, speaking with a man who thought so little of him that he didn’t have to even try to conduct business, to be a gentleman. It was a mask that didn’t work on Iyaz-- so why bother with a mask at all. “Besides, who hasn’t given a complement with the expectation of something in return?” He tilted his head, “even so. I’m not wrong. You have skills. Blab all you want about other doctors having more but they call you a doctor here, not a butcher. So you must be doing something right. Though what I am not sure.”

When Iyaz offered up the two options for his wound, James pulled a purposefully neutral face. Both things sounded possible. Both things also sounded unpleasant. Why would he want his body to break down wood. His body had better things to do. “So... you’re not going to fix it then?” James asked finally. 

James rolled his eyes-- not sure if he was more annoyed by the comment itself or just how pleased Iyaz was with himself. It wasn’t like this was the first time someone had called him a tool. If anything it was one of the nicer comments he received. Perhaps Iyaz did have a point about choice... after all, James chose to present himself, like an actor presenting a role. And as an actor he never chose his rolls, that was decided by other forces-- his father, the board of directors, even his mother... But all those things were gone now. So what was he now? One of those nobs with a one-man show? Written, directed, and staring him... was that was most people’s lives were like?

James was taken aback when Iyaz said he and Lark had a healthy relationship. Or something resembling that. James wanted to call him an idiot, tell him he was wrong. But Iyaz wasn’t just talking out of his ass, he had a brother too. One that was also stuck with him on this hell island. James didn’t know if the brothers Akbar had a healthy relationship or what sort of relationship it was beyond brotherly. After all, James wanted nothing more than to be with Lark once he discovered his brother was here as well. It was instinct. Something beyond his control. Surely the Akbars cared for each other but what else? What else was there between James and Lark? 

At the mention of being miserable for the island’s sake, James nodded. “That’s the most right thing you’ve said this entire conversation.” James followed Iyaz’ gaze to the bucket of water outside. He looked back at Iyaz, respecting that he wasn’t about to ruin his reputation just because he disliked his patient. “Thank you, doctor,” James said with no malice or sarcasm. “I’ll uh... wash up... maybe see if soaking it helps with the whole breaking down thing...” Still holding his finger he walked to the bucket and dunked his finger inside, the water tepid from sitting out for who knows how long. James just crouched there, wondering why... Just... why?

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“Sure.” Becca nodded, because she did know what the man was referring to. Those unknown drop offs in the water that you could never properly see coming. And sure if it was deep enough he would be completely submerged but he was proclaiming to be a good swimmer so…

And then it clicked into place, the only answer that made any sense. Weighed down. No wonder she’d worked up such a sweat dragging him in. Rebecca looked the stranger over. He had to be new to the island, clueless to what gifts it brought or he would have never gone swimming in the first place. Not so far out. Right? “I…you experienced some weird stuff here yet? Besides this?” Rebecca motioned back out to sea - only hesitating in revealing her theory because the last time she jumped out with attunement information, it didn’t go over so well. “Like bizarre stuff you could do?”

She wasn’t used to people staring at her as openly as this guy was, that was for sure. Usually when people did stare, they turned away with whispers the moment she noticed. So, what was he gawking at? Becca’s brows rose, and she shook her head a little surprised he wanted to go around announcing who’d pulled him from the ocean. “Rebecca. Or Becca uh…you don’t have to do that.” She gave a crooked smile, “Just glad I was around to help – James Crain.”

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“Weird stuff? Here?” James said sarcastically. No nothing weird at all if you take away my brother, the hell trees, the fact that I’m alive at all and oh yeah the island no one can escape other than that-- But as she spoke he understood better what she meant. “Do you mean the tattooinement?” He said, deathly serious as no one had yet corrected him. He wiped his face from forehead to chin with his hand before responding. “No. I haven’t...” His voice trailed. “But that rather pointed question makes me think I have and I just don’t know it yet.”

 His face was still stone cold though he looked to the young woman for guidance. How long she had been here he did not know. Could be centuries with the way people aged... In James’ mind she must have gone through something terrible at a young age to end up here-- looking the way she did, young and spry. As curious as he was to know her origins he laid off on those questions for now.  

He chuckled when she told him he didn’t need to go about singing her praises. “Well, if anyone asks if I’ve experienced anything weird on the island I’ll just tell them Becca, at half my weight, pulled me from the ocean. Fair?” He matched her crooked smile. It was easy enough to form some sort of connection with the girl who had literally saved his life. Plus it was good to surround oneself with the kinds of people who did selfless acts like that. 

—oOo—

If it wasn’t James Crain (which brought about a whole raft of other issues), Teak would’ve been more annoyed at the reprimand about tossing fire around on the farm – it sounded waaaaaay too much like that annoying Madi and her constant lectures about how Teak was accidentally going to burn down the whole island despite the fact that he hadn’t had any fire mishaps yet and she very much had – but nope, there were bigger fish to fry with this guy.

Such as the very rude way Teak was greeted. “Just your fucking luck? I was here first, buddy.” But Teak Middleton never bothered with antagonism until it became useful, so he gave James a huge, dazzling, white grin and held out his arms. “Bygones? No point us staying mad when we’re stuck on Mystery-Ass Island together!” 

He wrapped his arms around James in a hug before the other man could protest, making sure to wipe the tomato juice from his hands on the back of James’ shirt before he stepped away. “I mean,” Teak said, smile still intact, “under our last circumstances, you were the one who got there first, weren’t you?”

They’d known each other somewhat, before Lillian, but never more deeply than two moneyed scions of powerful families meeting at moneyed gatherings to be handsome and moneyed at each other. It was Lillian who had brought them tight into each others’ orbits, and set them at each other’s throats.

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“Which makes it all the more likely that fate is fucking with me. Fucking with me royally,” James pointed out. Who gave a shit who was here first? They were now both stuck here, not alone with each other thankfully. But James would be lying if he said he hadn’t begged Lillith if they could skip an event because Teak would be there. Lillith was never one for events to begin with and he was usually the one dragging her to make an appearance for business sake. That was the easy part. The hard part was acknowledging that Teak still bothered him. That a one night fling a decade ago still made him feel small. 

Teak approached James with a smile. “Don’t--” he said right as the man pulled him into a hug. James’ soul left his body for a moment, letting himself just stand there, limp in Teak’s arms. It was a good thing the other man didn’t see his face as it resembled a very disappointed pug. His expression managed to return to stoic and cold before Teak pulled away to look at him. Only to turn sour again when he joked about getting there first. James pulled Teak’s arms off of him. “Could you not talk about my wife like she’s somewhere to be? Good god.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think when it was Teak had gone missing, when he presumably ended up here. Something about a flight... the one from LAX that a whole host of other islanders were on...

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“Clearly because I made it out,” Libby says, and there’s not the spark of pride that maybe should be there. It’s just… fact. She did, and a few others, but plenty more were left behind. It dulls the shine of it. “But God knows the exit I found was probably sealed up seconds after I shoved my way through it. Have you seen it yourself? The shifting trees?” Libby’s comments feel like negative after negative, really, but they also feel necessary. The kid ought to know. 

The mention of hell earns a huff of a laugh from Libby, but little more. It’s the joke about her age that gets Libby to look at him, deadpan and gesturing at her own face. “I know, right? The witch I sold my soul to really did well.” Then her head shakes. “Yeah, something like that. From what I’ve seen of myself, I haven’t aged a day since I got here – not physically, at least.” 

She waves off the ask of forgiveness. “It’s a lot to take in. But I would warn you against trying to parse out a meaning. You’ll be searching for a while. Trust me.” Forever, in fact. Still, he’s not the first to express that sort of sentiment, so Libby doesn’t hang onto the encouragement. Can only crush his spirits so much before even Libby starts to feel bad.

So she sighs and sits down in the sand, leaning back against her palms and keeping her gaze on the ocean. Just in case it might try to snatch her like the jungle had. And pointedly refraining from answering the madness question. “A few days. Alright. Have you met Seamus or Esther? They can probably help you out.” She’s not in the business of leading. Not anymore. Even if she can’t help but dole out hopefully sage advice. 

The handshake earns a genuine smile from Libby – not the charmed type, but one of surprise, quick and darting and amused. When had she last shaken someone’s hand? Still, Libby doesn’t dismiss the gesture, instead sitting upright and dusting her palm off on her pants before reaching out to shake. (Firm and crisp – one of the few things her father had taught her was how to properly shake hands.) “Libby. The last name is… debatable.” They hardly matter here. “Seamus and Esther can probably help you out with the house situation. If you’re looking for a job and are a little handy, there are plenty to be had on the farm – or if you’re looking for food, for that matter. Specifically the warehouse. I’m not particularly talented at growing things, but I am the farmer’s wife, so I’m happy to show you around sometime. Though Esther’ll probably beat me to it, from what I’ve seen.”

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James turned his whole body to look at her. The way she said it he had no way to deny it... it just felt true. This woman had been trapped by the island and somehow she made it out. It didn’t sound like even she understood how she survived, and it certainly sounded like if she were ever trapped again she wouldn’t exactly know how to escape. They were like lab rats in a maze. Even if one of them escaped there was nothing to stop their overseers from picking them up and placing them back at the center of the maze again. James blinked, almost forgetting she was speaking to him. “I’ve... no. I haven’t seen it. I’ve...” Surely this woman knew about the trees with the pained faces yet he did not want to bring them up. “I think I’ve only had a taste of what the island has to offer.”

He hums before replying. “I never sought much meaning in my life before the island. So it should be easy, shouldn’t it? Just accepting this is where we are...” He looked back at the waves, seeing how they inched closer and closer to his feet. “But why... it keeps bugging me. Of all the people that seemingly die and disappear why me of all people?” He shook his head. “I know there is no answer, same as any tragedy-- and I do see this as some sort of fucked up tragedy. I’m alive... but alive for what?” He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, finding his own words to be deeply depressing. 

The woman sits beside him, suggesting he speak to Seamus and Esther. How many times now had he been told to go to them instead of speaking to the person right in front of him? “I’ve heard of them. Haven’t spoken to them though. I’m not even sure what I can even ask them that they will have answers to. What should I do to pass the time? Maybe...” If he was stuck here for... well, forever, it was going to be a boring eternity. Not having modern convinces was already an adjustment but they didn’t even have books or instruments like they did in the olden days. “Maybe I’ll take up fishing...” he muttered.

She takes his hand and shakes it like a proper businesswoman. How curious. He’d have to ask about that later. No one was born with a handshake like that. He manages a smile, small but just as genuine as Libby’s. He’s never been one for large displays of emotions, smiles included. “There is a story there,” he comments in reference to her last name being up for debate. When she mentions she’s Tomas’ wife he cocks a brow. “So you didn’t take the good professor’s name? Or, let me guess, it’s a story complicated by this mess of an island?” He waves his hand as if shooing away some bugs. “No need to tell me if you don’t feel up to it. If anything you’ve given me a mystery with some actual answers for me to ponder. Have to make your own fun I suppose,” he shrugged.

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Jamie laughed. “Exactly,” he said, “I’ll take a slightly rubbish genuine mattress over anything I might be able to cobble together any day. I’m not much of a builder, if you want to know the truth. Christ knows how I’d be living if I wasn’t here with Teak.”

“Are you good with your hands?” Jamie asked earnestly, “That’s a talent that’ll go a long way round here.”

“And since this is a carnivorous ‘island paradise’, you needn’t worry about sullying it with anything - least of all important questions. I’d worry about you if you didn’t have questions.”

He felt James stiffen slightly when he took his hand, but when the other man didn’t pull away or scold him for the liberty, Jamie didn’t let go. Human contact, he thought, was a good thing, especially here on Meridium, and he hoped, maybe in some small way, that James might find his touch comforting. Real. And he led him off toward their intended destination.

That James made himself at home so easily pleased Jamie, and he was more than a little touched at the way his new acquaintance listened so intently to Jamie’s misfortunes - and when the older man began to speak, to recount his own arrival on the island, Jamie showed him the same amount of respect, unable to keep his feelings off his face. “Oh my god, you poor thing,” he said, reaching across to take James’ hands again, “And your poor missus, stuck there, helpless.”

“I’m so sorry, James. You must miss her desperately. What’s her name?”

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“Teak...” James muttered to himself. The name was familiar-- not as if it was a common name, but what was the likelihood that he was speaking of Teak Middleton? What sort of connection would this British man have with an American heir? No matter-- James didn’t very much care about his romantic rival, to the point that even the title itself felt dramatic. Besides, even if he was on the island there were bigger things to worry about. 

James shrugged, “I suppose? When I’m not working I’m usually in the woods going on hikes. I can pitch a tent and start a fire. But with a bit of help from modern-camping equipment you know...” A slight smirk pulled at his lips. “A carnivorous island, well at least it’s something different.” Maybe he just needed to look at this situation differently. It wasn’t like he was alone here, doomed to go mad and befriend a coconut.

You poor thing... No one had said such a phrase to him. Poor things were wilting plants, his dogs when they got a thorn in their paw, a teenager in the early morning who had missed the last train taking them back to their village after a night out. Yet James didn’t have a problem with the affectionate term. He just wasn’t used to it. Wasn’t sure what he should say to someone seeing him in distress. Not that James was acting distressed. At least he prayed he wasn’t. But Jamie was right... he was a poor little thing. James nodded, pursing his lips and if the act would push down his emotions.

“She’s... she’ll be alright. She’s stronger than I am. Always has been.” No one else saw how iron clad Lillian was. How nothing could knock her down. Of course no one knew either that it was Lillian that pushed him into this place... not that she was aware of her actions either. Was it worse to know your husband was trapped on a strange island or to think he was dead? 

“Her name is Lillian. We’ve been married for a little less than fifteen years.” Many people thought he was foolish for getting married so young. Fresh out of University. But no one knew what all he and Lillian had been through-- separately and together. They were of a similar soul. What more could one ask for in a partner? “I will miss... I just want her to be happy.” James looked down at the floor, trying to hide the wet whites of his eyes.

☁︎︎☽☀︎︎☾☁︎︎

TW: dissociation, death mention, suicide ideation

‘…Katie went missing two years after your death.’ Nothing else James had said, or hadn’t said, could process then. Those words echoed in Lark’s skull accompanied by that high tinnitus ringing reserved for the nightmares that plagued him every night. Somewhere off in the distance maybe James said he felt sick, but the nausea twisting Lark’s own stomach drowned that out. Time became excruciatingly slow and Lark could feel his soul and his body uncouple from one another. He was outside of himself now, some other thing that was only half there, looking down on the hollowed out shells of two brothers meeting again in some place between realities.

It could have been seconds or even hours that passed before Lark realized he should come to some understanding of the implications of Katie’s disappearance. Maybe she needed to get away to process her grief and decided to go off the grid entirely. That was a best case scenario that Lark found extremely unlikely. If the roles were reversed, he could imagine feeling a gaping emptiness knowing Katie was no longer in the world with him. That strong, psychic bond between twins severed, leaving an aching sensation that would never pass. Like a phantom limb. He could imagine failing to find any reasonable way to continue on after that. He felt a twinge of it now. Perhaps the only way she could bear the idea of the world without him was simply to follow. And maybe…

He looked, wide-eyed toward the jungle. “She could be here too.” He needed anyway to convince himself she wasn’t dead. He looked back at James, “Jay, Katie could be here too!” The sickening feeling resurfaced and, like a man possessed, he took off running toward the jungle he had so recently sworn off for the foreseeable future. He didn’t check to see if James was following him. He didn’t care. He just needed to make sure. Cutting through the trees, he moved with pointed purpose for the spot where he feared to find that familiar face which looked so much like his own.

Finally, the lagoon came into view, surrounded by trees mottled in the shapes of statuesque corpses. He didn’t want to look, for fear of finding something, but he knew he had to. For some half-closure, he had to know. His eyes searched the tomb trees frantically. Then his knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground.

A sigh of anxious relief, that lifted no real weight off his shoulders, rattled through him. “She isn’t here. Thank god. She isn’t here.” He heard the footsteps behind him, but didn’t look back to see who it was, only assumed and continued talking out across the lagoon. “But she could still be here. On this island, I mean. You are. And if she disappeared… She could be somewhere out there too. Right? Don’t you think?” What was the alternative to holding onto this weak hope? She was dead. And if she was dead, he was just as good as dead himself. He could live in solitude on an island knowing his literal other half was out there alive somewhere. But if she wasn’t, there would be no point. He so desperately wanted there to be a point. So he would believe this, no matter what. For no other reason than the fact that it was something to hold onto. “She has to be here.”

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James saw it. The blankness in Lark’s eyes like he was looking at something far away. Despite his gaze being focused on the rocks and pebbles at their feet. This was the last thing he wanted. To have Lark in a state over something neither of them had any control over. Well. Lark had no control over Katie leaving. James on the other hand always wondered what he could have done different. Asked Katie to move in with him and Lillian for a while or have someone watch her-- as if either of those things would be the sort of stuff Katie would ever agree to or approve of. James knew that there was nothing he could have done to prevent Katie’s disappearance.

Yet....

 “Lark,” James said hoping to pull his brother out of the trance he’d placed himself in. “Lark, please, I...” I don’t know what to do when you’re like this, as if James had ever known how to placate Lark. How to deal with his sensitive heart. Finally Lark spoke and James breathed a sigh of relief thinking he had snapped out of it. To the point he didn’t hear his first phrase. Only when he raised his voice and used that old childhood nickname did James realize his brother was still in a sort of delusion. “Lark,” he said in a warning tone. His brother started sprinting for the jungle. “LARK” He shouted before chasing after him. 

Damn his long legs, James thought before shouting again, “Lark!” How deep into the brush he followed James wasn’t sure. In some ways it didn’t matter. He’d lost his brother and his sister-- powerless to stop either. He wasn’t just going to stand there and lose his brother again. Finally he caught up with him, finding him collapsed on the ground. James for his part doubled over with his hands on his knees as he caught is breath, the musky air sticking in his throat. 

She’s not here... No shit, James wanted to rebuttal but this wasn’t the time. Straightening his back he finally got a good look of where they were. A lagoon, an inviting shade of turquoise, glowed in front of them. It was so mesmerizing James didn’t notice what surrounded them. Trees, dozens of them, with detailed faces in pain like they were burning in hell. What James hated most was how detailed the faces were. None of them he recognized but he suspected if there were a face he knew embedded in the trees he would recognize it. 

“What the fuck,” he said still a touch breathless. James shut his eyes tight, trying to forget the forrest of faces. He marched forward and got on his knees, placing both hands on Lark’s shoulders. “Lark. If she was here... I know misery loves company, but this place...” His eyes wandered away from his brother before James shut his eyes tight again, shaking his head. “I have you, Lark. I’m grateful for that. I know... I know Katie is better. I know you two had something between you I can never fully understand. But fuck I want Katie to be alive somewhere. To be living a happy life away from our God damn name. I won’t pretend to know what this place is but--” he gestured to the trees around them, “this isn’t where I would want Katie to be. Not now. Not for two long years alone. Not ever.”

James squeezed Larks’s shoulders. “And I can’t lose you again. Please, please don’t run...”

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Piper wavered, but after a moment of hesitation took the re-offered cloth and let her hand hang at her side, ineffectually gripping it against the chicken-inflicted wound. It wasn’t enough to inspire a re-consideration of James yet, his cut-off explanation and odd puttering into silence still felt odd, like he was trying to cater to her now or carve himself to be suitable. She understood the urge to mask, to suit someone she was speaking to, but the

“Well, not unless people are playing it. I think some plane people have some games going with a ball that washed up.” Pip shrugged, risking a breezy smile like a peace offering. “Sorry, we got off on a weird foot, huh? I’m sort of new here still, too. In the grand scheme of things, I mean. I got here in December. We have a surprising amount of things like alcohol for fun and meds, general meds, food stuffs, oils and other processed stuff. You’ll learn with time. I promise.”

At the name, her mouth formed a little ‘o’, but couldn’t sort through her reaction fast enough and let him finish his explanation instead. “I guess we don’t really need a cover letter and CV to work here, to be fair.” At her feet the chicks plucked around at the dirt and Glenda warbled from nearby. “I’m sorry you’re here, I know it’s rough to come here. I can find you work if you want to use that as a distraction. Or, y’know, if you want to talk about it I know I’m a stranger, but I’ll listen. Everyone here is a stranger right now.” 

She paused, tilting her head to search his face for points of familiarity, of something he could share with his brother like a schnoz shape or matching topography of age. “Not everyone, though, right? Crain like Lark Crain, thee dearest double bird man? Are you… related? Apparently the island sometimes builds a web of people. Connected people.”

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James nodded. “Yes, in the grand scheme I suppose you’re new for quite some time. Though it sounds like new people appear more often than one would think.” James had assumed everyone washed up on shore like he had. But apparently some came from the forest. Some had been here for decades without finding anyone. “I’m lucky. Been here a week and found you lot,” he thought aloud. “Honestly I’d rather a few awkward meetings then to face this place alone. Besides, it’s not your fault. I’m a touch awkward.” He managed a smile. “Just a touch though.” A bit of an understatement considering how hard he was working to appear personable in that moment but she had accepted the rag so James thought he was doing quite well. 

He nodded some more. “Thank you. I want to learn.” I need to learn. “It’s nice to know I’m not the only one struggling.” As if he were ever the only one to struggle. He was born into a struggle: the dry spell of emotions that was his father versus the flood that was his mother. The constant love and praise poured into Katie while Lark was starved for attention. James had only ever known personal struggle. But beyond that his life had been a breeze. Oh if only money did buy happiness. 

“Apologize for what? You didn’t send me here. You’re just as stuck as I am.” He never liked apologies. Certainly not giving them and receiving them always felt so hollow. He would much rather just move on. See a change rather than hear about it. When she offered to give him work he opened his mouth to agree, but she continued, offering her ear as well. James’ mouth shut like a trap, as if she had offered him weed and they were in a 90s drug PSA. He wasn’t sure what to say next. This stranger was willing to listen. Not only that but she probably did have good advice. Any advice really. James cleared his throat. “Uh... thank you. Sincerely.” 

He cocked a brow, “dearest double bird man?” A chuckle bubbled up from his chest, pulling his lips into a slight smile. “Yes, Lark is my older brother. And I hope you’re wrong about us being here because of some web.” Lark running into the forest to find Katie clouded his mind. “I just wouldn’t want my mother coming here... or my father but for very different reasons.” He chuckled again, this time darker. “Suppose I am taking you up on that offer to listen now, aren’t I? I would prefer to work than talk though,” he explained. “Honestly, anything you have. I’ll... hold chickens while you clip their talons or count their feathers... anything, really.”