#echoedpast

As a servant, John was rarely in the heat of the action. But rarely did not mean never. And, today, a sudden attack had taken the entire army by surprise. Men had scattered, diving for cover, and somewhere in the chaos he and Everett had gotten separated. At one point John, entirely unarmed, had found himself face to face with a redcoat. He had managed to run, but not before getting a bullet to the leg for his troubles. He limped to the nearest shelter -- an abandoned building -- and assessed the damage. Messy, but not bad. The bullet had only grazed him, instead of embedding in his skin. Still, it hurt. This was much easier when it was Everett he was looking over instead of himself.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, he ripped fabric from his own shirt and tied it tightly around the wound as a makeshift bandage. After that, there wasn’t much to do but sit and wait. He wasn’t a fighter. He wasn’t brave, like Everett. He had seen the other shake off bullet wounds far more grievous than this and keep fighting -- but John himself felt quite ready to throw in the towel. When he heard steps coming through the room, he went to hide ... at least until he heard a familiar voice calling his name. “Everett?” He stood and weaved unsteadily on his feet. He felt sick and faint. How much blood had he lost while fleeing? “Everett, I’m here!”

The weather was so unpredictable lately. When Joanne had woken up this morning, the air had been frigid, but the sun was shining brightly. As the day progressed, though, storm clouds blew in, obscuring the sun. And then snow began to fall in thick, heavy flakes. Now it coated the road and piled up against the door, the wind blowing it at a diagonal against the building. It wasn’t a big deal for her -- she didn’t have anywhere to be after this. Once the shop closed up, all she had to do was walk up the stairs to her flat. But it wasn’t herself she was worried about. It was her one and only customer, and her little pug. She turned to face Eva, a frown creasing between her brows.

“It’s really coming down out there. You didn’t drive, did you?” She thought about that, then amended, “Actually, walking out there isn’t really good, either. Petunia’s paws might get cold.” She offered up a small smile at that, but she was worried. Frowning, she looked pensively out of the window for a moment. Going out in a storm like that ... it was dangerous. And she didn’t like thinking of Eva in dangerous situations. She did think of it, more than she cared to admit, but that didn’t mean she liked it. Still half lost in thought, staring out the window, she mumbled, “Maybe you should stay at my place until it dies down ...”

Josephine had heard rumors that Eliza had ported that day. She tried not to get her hopes up, because a lot of the time, those rumors turned out to be false. Port Royal was a place that saw a lot of comings and goings, and Eliza’s name was known well enough that everyone seemed to want to drop it when they had the choice. But, still, she bought an extra ticket to the show she was seeing tonight. She couldn’t afford it, not really, but she knew Eliza would like it if she stopped by. The mere chance of it was enough for it to be worth it. And if Eliza wasn’t in town, well, she’d get by. She’d gotten by on less.

But then there was a familiar face in the crowd at the bar, some excited murmurs, and there was Eliza herself. Josephine smiled, crossing the bar to greet her immediately. The customers, usually rowdy, did not complain. They knew who Eliza was and what she did. “I thought I heard whisperings that you were back,” she said quietly, a smile on her face. “I’m glad they were true.” She started fixing Eliza’s usual without being asked. “I got a proposition for you.” She passed the drink across the bar, along with the ticket. “I’m going to a show after I close the bar down. Got you a ticket, if you wanted to come along.” She was excited to see Eliza again for all sorts of reasons, but the idea of seeing her outside of the bar was even better.

“Mr. Chern, I think I saw daddy’s car pull up!”

Jordan looked up from the worksheets he had been grading, a small smile on his face. “That’s good, Beth,” he said, biting back a yawn. He didn’t mind staying after class -- Beth was well-behaved, content with a coloring book and a juice box -- but he was tired. He was tired a lot, lately. His doctor said it was probably a symptom of stress, not the illness itself, but as far as Jordan was concerned, the stress was a symptom of the illness. Or maybe it was The Illness. He never thought of it by its real name -- even after months, it was still hard to believe he had it. After the first few weeks, he had felt fine ... other than the stress. The knowledge of what was coming kept him up nights sometimes, that was all.

But he didn’t begrudge Elias the hour or so it took for him to come pick up Beth. As far as Jordan was concerned, it was the difference between being tired and grading papers in the classroom, or being tired and grading papers at home. And there were other perks as well. Elias was ... well, he was handsome. It was silly of him to think that. Jordan’s dating days were done, at least as far as he was concerned, and the fact that Elias had a child was a pretty strong indicator of the way that he leaned, anyways. But he was handsome, and no one ever got sick from looking. And as the man appeared in the doorway, that was just what Jordan did. “Hello, Mr. Perez.”

When Joanne saw her, she was hit by the strangest sense of vertigo.

She caught the other woman’s eye through the window. Joanne had been dusting off the shelf and the woman was walking past outside. But, even though they were at roughly around the same height, Joanne suddenly got the impression that she was looking down -- far, far down, as if from the top of a building -- to see the other standing on the ground. The sensation made her stomach lurch, and several books toppled to the floor as she grabbed at the shelf in an effort to support her suddenly weak legs.

Then the sensation was gone -- and so was the woman. The cling of the bell above the door suggested that she hadn’t gone far, though. Joanne bent to pick up the books, her face burning, wondering what on earth had come over her. She looked cautiously towards the door, as if expecting something more to happen. But it just a woman standing before her -- an attractive woman, surely, but a woman nonetheless. There was no strangeness about her. Joanne stood, trying (and failing) to act nonchalant.

“Welcome to Kipling Books,” she said. “May I help you?”