Pendant to a Still Life Pt. 1
Characters: Miles, Richard, Jacob, Sawyer, Kate, Claire, Frank; Miles/Richard, Richard/Jacob
Rating: PG13
Words: 3000
Summary: This isn't the first time Richard and Miles have gotten new lives that they aren't sure they're prepared for.
A/N: Posting this because it's one of the many WIPs that have been sitting in my documents for awhile and won't ever get finished unless I let go and stop obsessing over this part. It's meant to go back and forth between the present with Miles and flashbacks to Richard's time with Jacob.
Miles kept his eyes trained on the oval window so he wouldn’t have to stare at his own trembling knees. Now that shit had gotten real and they were actually bumping their way down this sorry excuse for a runway, he realized exactly how low their odds of making it were. Not that Frank was anything less than an awesome pilot, and Miles had meant it when he said he believed in duct tape, but… come on. They were in a plane that had already crashed, for fuck’s sake, with half of the cockpit window covered with a piece of wet cardboard, and the question of whether or not all the C4 had been removed hadn't been sufficiently resolved for Miles's taste.
To make matters worse, just as he could feel the front wheels rising (along with the mango in his stomach), he realized that the island had stopped shaking. Whereas bits of cliff had been falling steadily into the ocean for the past hour or so, it had stopped almost completely by the time Miles had closed the door after Jim. The sun was even coming out (though logically, what that had to do with an earthquake, Miles couldn’t say; but when you’re talking about shape-shifting smoke monsters and time travel, logic doesn’t really enter into it). Whatever all the people left on the island had done, Miles felt sure that they’d fixed everything. Well, maybe not everything… speaking of which…
“How do we know it won’t come after us?” he yelled over the unnervingly rickety rumble of the engine.
“Because I killed it,” Kate shouted back.
Wow. Good answer.
Though, great as that was for Kate and for all of them, the news simply exacerbated the nagging feeling that maybe they should never have left. With the black smoke gone and the earth no longer falling out from underneath them, why were they leaving? Between all the running and explosions since the last time flash, Miles hadn’t yet finished processing how over his Dharma life was. They’d had a good thing going, up until a week ago, no matter that a week ago had been thirty years ago. He’d had friends, a house, a job that consisted of sitting in a room and watching The Muppet Show all day, all the food and beer and weed he wanted, and a private beach to go to on the weekends. Sure, it was stifling and some of the people were creepy cult members and if you ventured too far from home you might get killed by Hostiles or a smoke monster, but for the first time in his life, Miles had been pretty happy, all things considered. And it wasn’t like he had anything waiting for him back in the real world. Hell, most of the people he'd shared said good life with were dead, or at least he assumed they were: he needed to get the full story once they crossed this hurdle. The only person he had left was Jim... Frank had never been wild about him and Miles didn't really know Kate and Claire very well, not to mention that they were all wrapped up in each other, with no room for him. And, Richard was... well, Richard was pretty interesting, but...
There was a scary patch of turbulence as they got away from the island---probably through the time warp barrier or whatever it was that Daniel had tried and failed so many times to explain to him. Miles turned around to look at Jim for reassurance or at least a nickname, but Jim’s eyes were closed with an expression of pain. Okay. Not so reassuring. So instead, Miles made eye contact with Richard, who looked like he’d just shat himself. He made a face at him, and got a terrified expression in return. Even less reassuring. So, Miles just looked out the window again.
“Okay, we’re clear,” Frank’s voice boomed over the intercom. They all tried to whoop in congratulations, but it came out pretty weakly. “Now I need suggestions of where the hell we’re going. I can’t take us too high because this thing isn’t properly pressurized. And we’ve only got about a third of a tank, so we can’t go too far. And I don’t know where the island was, so I don’t know what direction is closest to land. And I can’t land us at a regulation airport, unless you can come up with an explanation for why the only passengers I’m bringing back after being missing for a week are two people who died in a plane crash three years ago, a lady on parole, a guy who went missing three years ago, and… well… Richard.”
They’d been so busy repairing the plane and running for their lives that Miles hadn’t even thought of this before. Frank’s caveats had ruled out pretty much all hope. "Sounds like a job for you, Boss,” he called out to Jim.
“Gimme a minute,” Jim shouted towards the cockpit. Everyone watched Jim expectantly as he cocked his head and squinted one eye in concentration. “How are we doing on cash? Hurley told me y’all got a boatload of sympathy money from Oceanic. We’re gonna need to pay some people off, for sure. Kate, do you have any way to access that?”
She frowned. “I don’t think so. I wasn’t even supposed to leave the state, and I don’t have any ID on me. The second any of us touch that account, we’re probably all going to jail.”
“How did you get on the plane?” Claire asked. It was the first sensible thing Miles had heard out of her mouth since seeing her again. Maybe Kate was right; maybe there was hope for the poor, hot looney.
“Fake passport. Big sunglasses,” Kate replied.
Miles listened, the diamonds burning a hole in his pocket. In retrospect, despite his conflicting feelings, part of him must have wanted or expected to leave at some point, or else he wouldn’t have turned grave robber. Long-standing survival instincts told him to keep quiet, but when he remembered that Frank had watched him dig those graves up, the point was rendered moot. The only secret he could (and should) keep was the fact that those people had been buried alive; Miles was sure that Kate, Jim and Claire had no idea what their camp had done, and they certainly didn’t need that kind baggage.
Miles was opening his mouth to tell them all about the diamonds, but Richard got there first. “My company can wire us as much money as we need.”
Well, that was unexpected.
“You’ve got a company?” Jim asked.
Richard nodded. “Jacob had me set up some front companies to fund island needs back in the 40s. All I have to do is find a phone or a Western Union wherever we land and I can get us as much cash as we need.”
Jim was understandably still skeptical. “What kind of money are we talking here?”
“I haven’t checked in awhile, but at least $50 million.”
Jim whistled. “You know, you’re surprisingly sharing, for an Other.”
“The way we behaved was Jacob’s choice, not mine. For what it’s worth, I’m… I’m sorry about everything we put you through.” Richard cast his eyes around at all of them, looking embarrassed and guilty.
“None of that matters much now, does it?” Jim graciously said. “But, ‘for what it’s worth’, apology accepted.”
Miles watched wistfully as Jim got up to relay the plan to Frank. He didn't know why, but he felt as though, when Jim crossed from the cabin to the cockpit, his old life was officially over. Miles was fidgety and restless in his despair, so he glanced around again, looking for something to distract him. Kate and Claire were doing that hand-holding thing again that half made Miles want to wisecrack about getting a room, but, much as he felt the need to make a smart-ass comment about something, he knew that would be inappropriate, not to mention untrue. So instead, he turned to Richard and said, “Well, the Others never did anything to me, so no apology needed.”
The second the words were out of his mouth, he silently kicked himself. Can’t you keep your mouth shut for one minute? Because now Richard was looking at him in this wide-eyed, thoughtful way that made Miles’s stomach do flips. Fuck. He’d been trying not to think about that. And anyway, it was pointless. Richard was still not over death of wife from a hundred and fifty years ago or something like that. Hell, having been alive a hundred and fifty years ago was enough of an issue, even without the wife. Not to mention the fact that, just generally, Richard was completely out of Miles's league. And that, if he'd interpreted that dynamite story Jack had told him correctly, Richard was still kind of suspiciously broken up about his dead demigod boss... person. Or, you know, the fact that they were on an airplane that was probably about to crash… again, and this really wasn’t the time to be thinking about this.
But then Richard said, “You're mostly right, but if I remember correctly, I had you tied up once. I should apologize for that.”
Miles had forgotten about that. Okay, he hadn't forgotten about it completely... just at that moment. Still, whether or not Richard had intended it (Miles was 99.9% sure he hadn't), it came out dirty enough that even the girls looked at them curiously. He looked out the window again to hide his blush. "Oh. Right. Well, don't worry about it. No big deal."
I am so screwed, Miles thought as the last glimpse of the island disappeared from view and his heart sank. And unfortunately, not in the good way.
***
Exhaustion catches up with Richard almost as soon as he gets back to the statue where Jacob’s waiting for him.
“What did he say?”
Richard barely finishes relating his adventure before he collapses. He knows he that it’s because a week of dehydration, hunger, heat stroke, and the company of corpses is catching up with him, but Richard can tell that something is different. Whereas anyone else would probably be dying, Richard’s body is simply urging him to rest. It’s more that he thinks he should be ill, rather than that he actually is. Whatever Jacob did to him… it’s real.
Jacob carries Richard inside an opening in the stone plinth under the statue. His eyes barely make out a tapestry and a rocking chair in the dimly lit room. Jacob lays him on a very old, very worn-out mattress, and strokes his hair, gingerly, as though he’s never done such a thing before. It’s an unexpected, but welcome change from being drowned. Richard wonders briefly, before passing out, from where Jacob got the mattress, and why someone who can grant immortality cannot conjure himself better furnishings. Richard figures that, like monks, angels (which he can only assume Jacob is) must be sworn to live a life of penury. There’s only one mattress, and he can feel Jacob climbing in beside him a few hours later to sleep. He can feel the comforting body heat radiating into his back even though they don't touch at all.
Richard sleeps for what turns out to be days, waking only intermittently, and each time he does, he sees Jacob sitting in the rocking chair, watching him intently with hands folded. It should be disconcerting, but Richard can only feel gratitude. Jacob is taking care of him in a way that no one except his mother and Isabella ever have. He holds a cup so that Richard can drink, and he feeds him fish and fruit that he’s cut into pieces. Richard isn’t sure what he’s done to deserve such loving treatment.
“What is happening to me? Am I dying?” he asks, when he’s strong enough to speak, but still too weak to sit up.
Jacob shakes his head. “I thought we agreed that wasn’t something you need to be afraid of. You just need to sleep and eat. You’ll feel better in a few days. Trust me.”
Richard does, completely, and he drifts into slumber again.
The next time he wakes, Jacob is yet again sitting beside him, but this time there are clothes in his lap.
“I washed some trousers I found in the jungle near your ship. And I made you a shirt.” Jacob takes Richard in his arms and lifts him up so that his head rests on his shoulder. He’s never been undressed by a man before, and if he didn’t believe that Jacob is something more than a man, he would probably pull away. But Jacob is gentle, caressing, and slightly awkward himself as he helps Richard out of his torn and crusty rags and into a soft, white linen shirt similar to the one Jacob himself wears. Richard feels honored. The pants are a little too big and he doesn’t realize until he’s falling asleep again that by 'found in the jungle', Jacob must have meant 'taken them off one of the bodies'.
The next time he awakens, the room is empty and the fire in embers. Richard finally feels strong enough to attempt to stand. The loss of Jacob’s presence is colder than the room and spurs him to go outside in search of him. The sky is overcast and the island looks less beautiful and more sinister than it did on the only other day he’s been outside. Richard spots Jacob sitting up the beach where the trees end and the sand begins, and he scrambles through the crashing high tide to reach him. Jacob lends Richard a hand to sit down beside him.
They sit silently until Richard can’t bear it anymore. There is something serene and ethereal about Jacob that makes Richard afraid to question him, but everything here is so new and scary that he has to. “The sea is rough today,” he notes, as a way to start.
Jacob looks out at the waves and not at him. “The waves are pulling the remnants of the statue out to sea. The sea always seems to know when there’s tidying to be done.”
“What was the statue of?”
Jacob shrugs. “It was of an Egyptian deity.”
“Heathen gods?” Richard is shocked, but Jacob just laughs.
“It doesn’t matter what face you put on a god or what you call it. All that matters is that people have a reason to want to be better than they are, and that they keep bright the light within themselves. The longer you spend here and the more people you meet, the better you’ll understand that.”
Richard decides that Jacob is a strange angel to be able to say something like that. He tries to argue for his faith. “But the bible says…”
“The bible is a book written by a few individuals---individuals that probably weren’t any more special than you are.”
“I am not special.”
Jacob smiles that enigmatic little smile of his. “I’m sorry you don’t think so.”
Richard doesn’t know what to say after this. His faith has been insulted while his own worth flattered. He's even less sure than before where he is or to whom he’s talking, so he keeps quiet.
“Well, Ricardo, it seems like you and I are going to be here together for a long time. We ought to get to know each other. Tell me about yourself,” Jacob finally suggests with a sidelong glance and a friendly squeeze of Richard’s thigh.
“Where do you want me to start?”
“From wherever you think is the beginning.”
Richard tells Jacob all about his town, about meeting Isabella, about wanting to travel to the New World, about Isabella’s sickness and death, about the priest who told him that his sins would never be forgiven. How he’d been sold into slavery, how the captain had killed the crew and how he alone had been spared. Throughout the tale, which takes so long to tell that Richard’s throat begins to feel sore, Jacob simply stares at the sea as stone after stone disappears into the waves. When Richard finishes, Jacob looks at him with a mysteriously sad expression.
“You loved your wife very much, didn’t you?”
“More than anything.”
“And yet you asked to live forever… without her?”
“The priest said that I could never be forgiven and that when I died, I would go to hell. Since Isabella is in heaven, living without her forever here is better than living forever without her in hell.”
Jacob grunts and kicks at the sand. “I was hoping for more excitement than that.”
Panicked at how Jacob has interpreted his words, Richard replies, “I am sorry. I did not mean to offend you. I am… I am looking forward to my life and work here.”
“That’s good,” Jacob says flatly.
Richard pauses, a nagging worry resurfacing. “And you are certain this is not hell?”
Jacob’s laugh is mirthless, and Richard wonders why his words have left him so… Richard doesn’t even know what. “I’m certain,” Jacob says, looking back at the ocean again. “You can think of this place as whatever you want, but it isn’t hell. I hope you learn to like the island. And me.”
It hadn’t occurred to Richard that he may or may not ‘like’ Jacob. It isn't the sort of thing that is up to him. He doesn’t know how to respond, so he changes the subject.
“When you said you brought people to the island, did you mean that you brought me?”
Jacob sighs and Richard worries that he is boring him. “No one comes unless I summon them.”
“But did you want everyone on my ship? Or only a few?” What Richard really wants to ask is if Jacob brought him specifically, but he isn’t sure if the thought itself is hubristic. He hopes that Jacob will understand his meaning.
“Everyone, although I was most interested in your captain. It turns out I was wrong about him. It isn’t the first time.”
This reminds Richard of something that had been bothering him. “And why am I the only one alive? The captain killed most of us and the monster killed everyone who was left.”
Jacob rests a hand on Richard’s shoulder, as though to claim him all over again. “Because you are pure, Ricardo. He saw what I didn’t see until I met you. He saved you in order to corrupt you, because your corruption would have been his winning move. Fortunately for both of us, it didn’t work.”
Richard shakes his head. “But he did corrupt me. He told me to kill you. If you hadn’t stopped me, I would have.”
“Are you sure of that?” Jacob’s stare is piercing and Richard thinks he can see straight into his soul. He probably can.
Richard thinks back to the moment. He was so weak, so uncertain, that day. He isn’t so sure anymore that he would have, even if Jacob hadn’t tackled him first. Jacob takes his silence as a response and finally smiles. “I didn’t think so.”
Trying to make up for even that uncertain lapse, Richard vows, “If he sends anyone else to kill you, I swear, I will protect you.”
Jacob looks at him long and hard. “I appreciate that. Though… you shouldn’t worry too much about it. Dying isn’t the worst thing that could happen to me.”
“It isn’t?”
Jacob puts his sandals back on and gets up. “No, it isn’t. Come on, Ricardo. Let’s catch some fish. I'll show you how I do it.”
Richard watches as Jacob begins to walk, and then follows him. He has a feeling there are things about Jacob that he will never understand, even now that ‘never’ means something different for him than it once did.
Rating: PG13
Words: 3000
Summary: This isn't the first time Richard and Miles have gotten new lives that they aren't sure they're prepared for.
A/N: Posting this because it's one of the many WIPs that have been sitting in my documents for awhile and won't ever get finished unless I let go and stop obsessing over this part. It's meant to go back and forth between the present with Miles and flashbacks to Richard's time with Jacob.
Miles kept his eyes trained on the oval window so he wouldn’t have to stare at his own trembling knees. Now that shit had gotten real and they were actually bumping their way down this sorry excuse for a runway, he realized exactly how low their odds of making it were. Not that Frank was anything less than an awesome pilot, and Miles had meant it when he said he believed in duct tape, but… come on. They were in a plane that had already crashed, for fuck’s sake, with half of the cockpit window covered with a piece of wet cardboard, and the question of whether or not all the C4 had been removed hadn't been sufficiently resolved for Miles's taste.
To make matters worse, just as he could feel the front wheels rising (along with the mango in his stomach), he realized that the island had stopped shaking. Whereas bits of cliff had been falling steadily into the ocean for the past hour or so, it had stopped almost completely by the time Miles had closed the door after Jim. The sun was even coming out (though logically, what that had to do with an earthquake, Miles couldn’t say; but when you’re talking about shape-shifting smoke monsters and time travel, logic doesn’t really enter into it). Whatever all the people left on the island had done, Miles felt sure that they’d fixed everything. Well, maybe not everything… speaking of which…
“How do we know it won’t come after us?” he yelled over the unnervingly rickety rumble of the engine.
“Because I killed it,” Kate shouted back.
Wow. Good answer.
Though, great as that was for Kate and for all of them, the news simply exacerbated the nagging feeling that maybe they should never have left. With the black smoke gone and the earth no longer falling out from underneath them, why were they leaving? Between all the running and explosions since the last time flash, Miles hadn’t yet finished processing how over his Dharma life was. They’d had a good thing going, up until a week ago, no matter that a week ago had been thirty years ago. He’d had friends, a house, a job that consisted of sitting in a room and watching The Muppet Show all day, all the food and beer and weed he wanted, and a private beach to go to on the weekends. Sure, it was stifling and some of the people were creepy cult members and if you ventured too far from home you might get killed by Hostiles or a smoke monster, but for the first time in his life, Miles had been pretty happy, all things considered. And it wasn’t like he had anything waiting for him back in the real world. Hell, most of the people he'd shared said good life with were dead, or at least he assumed they were: he needed to get the full story once they crossed this hurdle. The only person he had left was Jim... Frank had never been wild about him and Miles didn't really know Kate and Claire very well, not to mention that they were all wrapped up in each other, with no room for him. And, Richard was... well, Richard was pretty interesting, but...
There was a scary patch of turbulence as they got away from the island---probably through the time warp barrier or whatever it was that Daniel had tried and failed so many times to explain to him. Miles turned around to look at Jim for reassurance or at least a nickname, but Jim’s eyes were closed with an expression of pain. Okay. Not so reassuring. So instead, Miles made eye contact with Richard, who looked like he’d just shat himself. He made a face at him, and got a terrified expression in return. Even less reassuring. So, Miles just looked out the window again.
“Okay, we’re clear,” Frank’s voice boomed over the intercom. They all tried to whoop in congratulations, but it came out pretty weakly. “Now I need suggestions of where the hell we’re going. I can’t take us too high because this thing isn’t properly pressurized. And we’ve only got about a third of a tank, so we can’t go too far. And I don’t know where the island was, so I don’t know what direction is closest to land. And I can’t land us at a regulation airport, unless you can come up with an explanation for why the only passengers I’m bringing back after being missing for a week are two people who died in a plane crash three years ago, a lady on parole, a guy who went missing three years ago, and… well… Richard.”
They’d been so busy repairing the plane and running for their lives that Miles hadn’t even thought of this before. Frank’s caveats had ruled out pretty much all hope. "Sounds like a job for you, Boss,” he called out to Jim.
“Gimme a minute,” Jim shouted towards the cockpit. Everyone watched Jim expectantly as he cocked his head and squinted one eye in concentration. “How are we doing on cash? Hurley told me y’all got a boatload of sympathy money from Oceanic. We’re gonna need to pay some people off, for sure. Kate, do you have any way to access that?”
She frowned. “I don’t think so. I wasn’t even supposed to leave the state, and I don’t have any ID on me. The second any of us touch that account, we’re probably all going to jail.”
“How did you get on the plane?” Claire asked. It was the first sensible thing Miles had heard out of her mouth since seeing her again. Maybe Kate was right; maybe there was hope for the poor, hot looney.
“Fake passport. Big sunglasses,” Kate replied.
Miles listened, the diamonds burning a hole in his pocket. In retrospect, despite his conflicting feelings, part of him must have wanted or expected to leave at some point, or else he wouldn’t have turned grave robber. Long-standing survival instincts told him to keep quiet, but when he remembered that Frank had watched him dig those graves up, the point was rendered moot. The only secret he could (and should) keep was the fact that those people had been buried alive; Miles was sure that Kate, Jim and Claire had no idea what their camp had done, and they certainly didn’t need that kind baggage.
Miles was opening his mouth to tell them all about the diamonds, but Richard got there first. “My company can wire us as much money as we need.”
Well, that was unexpected.
“You’ve got a company?” Jim asked.
Richard nodded. “Jacob had me set up some front companies to fund island needs back in the 40s. All I have to do is find a phone or a Western Union wherever we land and I can get us as much cash as we need.”
Jim was understandably still skeptical. “What kind of money are we talking here?”
“I haven’t checked in awhile, but at least $50 million.”
Jim whistled. “You know, you’re surprisingly sharing, for an Other.”
“The way we behaved was Jacob’s choice, not mine. For what it’s worth, I’m… I’m sorry about everything we put you through.” Richard cast his eyes around at all of them, looking embarrassed and guilty.
“None of that matters much now, does it?” Jim graciously said. “But, ‘for what it’s worth’, apology accepted.”
Miles watched wistfully as Jim got up to relay the plan to Frank. He didn't know why, but he felt as though, when Jim crossed from the cabin to the cockpit, his old life was officially over. Miles was fidgety and restless in his despair, so he glanced around again, looking for something to distract him. Kate and Claire were doing that hand-holding thing again that half made Miles want to wisecrack about getting a room, but, much as he felt the need to make a smart-ass comment about something, he knew that would be inappropriate, not to mention untrue. So instead, he turned to Richard and said, “Well, the Others never did anything to me, so no apology needed.”
The second the words were out of his mouth, he silently kicked himself. Can’t you keep your mouth shut for one minute? Because now Richard was looking at him in this wide-eyed, thoughtful way that made Miles’s stomach do flips. Fuck. He’d been trying not to think about that. And anyway, it was pointless. Richard was still not over death of wife from a hundred and fifty years ago or something like that. Hell, having been alive a hundred and fifty years ago was enough of an issue, even without the wife. Not to mention the fact that, just generally, Richard was completely out of Miles's league. And that, if he'd interpreted that dynamite story Jack had told him correctly, Richard was still kind of suspiciously broken up about his dead demigod boss... person. Or, you know, the fact that they were on an airplane that was probably about to crash… again, and this really wasn’t the time to be thinking about this.
But then Richard said, “You're mostly right, but if I remember correctly, I had you tied up once. I should apologize for that.”
Miles had forgotten about that. Okay, he hadn't forgotten about it completely... just at that moment. Still, whether or not Richard had intended it (Miles was 99.9% sure he hadn't), it came out dirty enough that even the girls looked at them curiously. He looked out the window again to hide his blush. "Oh. Right. Well, don't worry about it. No big deal."
I am so screwed, Miles thought as the last glimpse of the island disappeared from view and his heart sank. And unfortunately, not in the good way.
***
Exhaustion catches up with Richard almost as soon as he gets back to the statue where Jacob’s waiting for him.
“What did he say?”
Richard barely finishes relating his adventure before he collapses. He knows he that it’s because a week of dehydration, hunger, heat stroke, and the company of corpses is catching up with him, but Richard can tell that something is different. Whereas anyone else would probably be dying, Richard’s body is simply urging him to rest. It’s more that he thinks he should be ill, rather than that he actually is. Whatever Jacob did to him… it’s real.
Jacob carries Richard inside an opening in the stone plinth under the statue. His eyes barely make out a tapestry and a rocking chair in the dimly lit room. Jacob lays him on a very old, very worn-out mattress, and strokes his hair, gingerly, as though he’s never done such a thing before. It’s an unexpected, but welcome change from being drowned. Richard wonders briefly, before passing out, from where Jacob got the mattress, and why someone who can grant immortality cannot conjure himself better furnishings. Richard figures that, like monks, angels (which he can only assume Jacob is) must be sworn to live a life of penury. There’s only one mattress, and he can feel Jacob climbing in beside him a few hours later to sleep. He can feel the comforting body heat radiating into his back even though they don't touch at all.
Richard sleeps for what turns out to be days, waking only intermittently, and each time he does, he sees Jacob sitting in the rocking chair, watching him intently with hands folded. It should be disconcerting, but Richard can only feel gratitude. Jacob is taking care of him in a way that no one except his mother and Isabella ever have. He holds a cup so that Richard can drink, and he feeds him fish and fruit that he’s cut into pieces. Richard isn’t sure what he’s done to deserve such loving treatment.
“What is happening to me? Am I dying?” he asks, when he’s strong enough to speak, but still too weak to sit up.
Jacob shakes his head. “I thought we agreed that wasn’t something you need to be afraid of. You just need to sleep and eat. You’ll feel better in a few days. Trust me.”
Richard does, completely, and he drifts into slumber again.
The next time he wakes, Jacob is yet again sitting beside him, but this time there are clothes in his lap.
“I washed some trousers I found in the jungle near your ship. And I made you a shirt.” Jacob takes Richard in his arms and lifts him up so that his head rests on his shoulder. He’s never been undressed by a man before, and if he didn’t believe that Jacob is something more than a man, he would probably pull away. But Jacob is gentle, caressing, and slightly awkward himself as he helps Richard out of his torn and crusty rags and into a soft, white linen shirt similar to the one Jacob himself wears. Richard feels honored. The pants are a little too big and he doesn’t realize until he’s falling asleep again that by 'found in the jungle', Jacob must have meant 'taken them off one of the bodies'.
The next time he awakens, the room is empty and the fire in embers. Richard finally feels strong enough to attempt to stand. The loss of Jacob’s presence is colder than the room and spurs him to go outside in search of him. The sky is overcast and the island looks less beautiful and more sinister than it did on the only other day he’s been outside. Richard spots Jacob sitting up the beach where the trees end and the sand begins, and he scrambles through the crashing high tide to reach him. Jacob lends Richard a hand to sit down beside him.
They sit silently until Richard can’t bear it anymore. There is something serene and ethereal about Jacob that makes Richard afraid to question him, but everything here is so new and scary that he has to. “The sea is rough today,” he notes, as a way to start.
Jacob looks out at the waves and not at him. “The waves are pulling the remnants of the statue out to sea. The sea always seems to know when there’s tidying to be done.”
“What was the statue of?”
Jacob shrugs. “It was of an Egyptian deity.”
“Heathen gods?” Richard is shocked, but Jacob just laughs.
“It doesn’t matter what face you put on a god or what you call it. All that matters is that people have a reason to want to be better than they are, and that they keep bright the light within themselves. The longer you spend here and the more people you meet, the better you’ll understand that.”
Richard decides that Jacob is a strange angel to be able to say something like that. He tries to argue for his faith. “But the bible says…”
“The bible is a book written by a few individuals---individuals that probably weren’t any more special than you are.”
“I am not special.”
Jacob smiles that enigmatic little smile of his. “I’m sorry you don’t think so.”
Richard doesn’t know what to say after this. His faith has been insulted while his own worth flattered. He's even less sure than before where he is or to whom he’s talking, so he keeps quiet.
“Well, Ricardo, it seems like you and I are going to be here together for a long time. We ought to get to know each other. Tell me about yourself,” Jacob finally suggests with a sidelong glance and a friendly squeeze of Richard’s thigh.
“Where do you want me to start?”
“From wherever you think is the beginning.”
Richard tells Jacob all about his town, about meeting Isabella, about wanting to travel to the New World, about Isabella’s sickness and death, about the priest who told him that his sins would never be forgiven. How he’d been sold into slavery, how the captain had killed the crew and how he alone had been spared. Throughout the tale, which takes so long to tell that Richard’s throat begins to feel sore, Jacob simply stares at the sea as stone after stone disappears into the waves. When Richard finishes, Jacob looks at him with a mysteriously sad expression.
“You loved your wife very much, didn’t you?”
“More than anything.”
“And yet you asked to live forever… without her?”
“The priest said that I could never be forgiven and that when I died, I would go to hell. Since Isabella is in heaven, living without her forever here is better than living forever without her in hell.”
Jacob grunts and kicks at the sand. “I was hoping for more excitement than that.”
Panicked at how Jacob has interpreted his words, Richard replies, “I am sorry. I did not mean to offend you. I am… I am looking forward to my life and work here.”
“That’s good,” Jacob says flatly.
Richard pauses, a nagging worry resurfacing. “And you are certain this is not hell?”
Jacob’s laugh is mirthless, and Richard wonders why his words have left him so… Richard doesn’t even know what. “I’m certain,” Jacob says, looking back at the ocean again. “You can think of this place as whatever you want, but it isn’t hell. I hope you learn to like the island. And me.”
It hadn’t occurred to Richard that he may or may not ‘like’ Jacob. It isn't the sort of thing that is up to him. He doesn’t know how to respond, so he changes the subject.
“When you said you brought people to the island, did you mean that you brought me?”
Jacob sighs and Richard worries that he is boring him. “No one comes unless I summon them.”
“But did you want everyone on my ship? Or only a few?” What Richard really wants to ask is if Jacob brought him specifically, but he isn’t sure if the thought itself is hubristic. He hopes that Jacob will understand his meaning.
“Everyone, although I was most interested in your captain. It turns out I was wrong about him. It isn’t the first time.”
This reminds Richard of something that had been bothering him. “And why am I the only one alive? The captain killed most of us and the monster killed everyone who was left.”
Jacob rests a hand on Richard’s shoulder, as though to claim him all over again. “Because you are pure, Ricardo. He saw what I didn’t see until I met you. He saved you in order to corrupt you, because your corruption would have been his winning move. Fortunately for both of us, it didn’t work.”
Richard shakes his head. “But he did corrupt me. He told me to kill you. If you hadn’t stopped me, I would have.”
“Are you sure of that?” Jacob’s stare is piercing and Richard thinks he can see straight into his soul. He probably can.
Richard thinks back to the moment. He was so weak, so uncertain, that day. He isn’t so sure anymore that he would have, even if Jacob hadn’t tackled him first. Jacob takes his silence as a response and finally smiles. “I didn’t think so.”
Trying to make up for even that uncertain lapse, Richard vows, “If he sends anyone else to kill you, I swear, I will protect you.”
Jacob looks at him long and hard. “I appreciate that. Though… you shouldn’t worry too much about it. Dying isn’t the worst thing that could happen to me.”
“It isn’t?”
Jacob puts his sandals back on and gets up. “No, it isn’t. Come on, Ricardo. Let’s catch some fish. I'll show you how I do it.”
Richard watches as Jacob begins to walk, and then follows him. He has a feeling there are things about Jacob that he will never understand, even now that ‘never’ means something different for him than it once did.