Chapter 7

When Jack woke the next morning, the leylines were the farthest thing from his mind. In fact, the only thing on his mind was the debilitating pain that suffused and stiffened every muscle in his body. He was so sore he could barely move. Through force of will he clawed his way out of bed, struggled into his clothes, and prepared to start the day.

'One step at a time, ' he thought to himself as he hobbled out of his quarters.

"Looks like you owe me five coppers," Kairn said when Jack limped up to join the sea dogs in their morning practice session.

"Shit," Grelik cursed.

"What's so funny?" Jack asked, overhearing Kairn's laughter at Grelik's distress.

"Oh, Grelik here wagered five coppers that you wouldn't even get out of bed this morning," Kairn explained, still smiling.

"Well, he came pretty damn close to winning that bet. I'm sore as hell," Jack said as he slowly flexed his shoulders, wincing.

"Are you going to make it?" Kairn asked, with amused concern.

"I'll do the best I can, no promises," Jack answered.

"That's all I can ask of any man," Kairn said in mock seriousness.

Jack took Kairn's good-natured banter for what it was and smiled. "Very funny," he said.

"Are you ready to begin?" Kairn asked.

Jack nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be."

It was a disaster. The blisters on his hands burst almost immediately. He struggled to keep his wooden sword up while his shoulders and forearms screamed in protest. Each new position set fire to his thighs and calves. Jack struggled with grim determination, gritting his teeth as he tried to force his tortured muscles through the sword forms.

The sparring portion of the training was an even bigger travesty. On the few times he managed to block one of Kairn's strikes, his blistered hands, already stinging from sweat, could not retain their grip on the practice sword.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Kairn said as Jack cursed, picking his sword up for the third time in as many minutes.

"This is fucking ridiculous," Jack cursed. "I can't even hold on to my God-damned sword. Fuck."

"Calm yourself, Outlander."

Everything Jack had endured over the last eight days suddenly boiled over. Barbara's betrayal, his feelings of helplessness, the dangers he had faced, and his worries about the uncertain future that lay ahead could no longer be contained. All his pent-up emotions exploded out of him in a tempest of anger. "Son of a fucking bitch! My fucking name is Jack. Jack, God damn it," he yelled.

Sudden quiet descended all over the deck of the ship. The clacking of wooden swords halted as the sea dogs gaped at Jack's profanity. The crew paused in their duties at Jack's outburst and watched intently.

"Outlander, Outlander, Outlander," Jack parroted at them. "I don't even know what the fuck that means!" Jack flung his wooden sword away and it clattered across the deck. He stood there fuming, fists clenched, sucking in ragged breaths as though he had just ran a great distance.

"Jack," Kairn said carefully. "To lose one's temper when facing an opponent is to admit defeat."

"Who the fuck are you? Confucius?" Jack demanded. "Do you know this one? Confucius say wise man never play leapfrog with unicorn."

Kairn stared at Jack, dumbstruck.

"Don't know that one?" Jack asked. His eyes were wide and had a glint of hysteria in them. Deep inside he knew he was being irrational but his anger had taken complete control.

"Jack, calm down," Kairn said, lowering his wooden sword and spreading his arms in a soothing manner.

"I am calm," Jack screamed, and even he knew how ludicrous that sounded. "Fuck this." He turned and tried to stomp away, but the best he could manage was a pain-filled shuffle. He slammed the hatchway door that led below deck.

Kairn stared helplessly at the door the Outlander had disappeared through.

Grelik moved up beside him. "Who's Confucius?"

Jack flung his cabin door shut so hard that it rattled on its hinges. He limped over to the chair and sat down only to get up again. He was so furious that he had to keep moving. He hobbled back and forth across the narrow room, the soreness in his legs only making him angrier.

Images flashed in his mind, escalating his rage: the Kraken pursuing them, the gaping maws of the maelstroms, Monch victorious, Barbara's lips dotted with Roger Chapman's cum. His fury boiled over, spilling out of him uncontrollably. An incoherent roar burst out of him like the eruption of a volcano, and he slammed his fist into the wall as hard as he could.

A white light flashed behind his eyes as agony detonated in his hand. He jerked back and tripped over the chair. He flailed at the table with his uninjured hand but couldn't stop his fall. He hit the floor with a thud, rolled onto his back, and lay there cradling his hand until the pain subsided to a dull throb.

The entire morning had been one fiasco after another, and suddenly he was overcome with the hilarity of it all. Manic laughter bubbled out of him. Barbara's earrings had been knocked from the table when he had fallen and they now lay on the ground beside him, spilled out of their little box as though reminding him of the way Barbara had cast out his love and devotion like yesterday's garbage. It made him laugh even harder.

He laughed so hard that tears welled in his eyes, and then, just like that, the tears were real. He suddenly missed his old life so badly it felt like there was a hole inside him.

He missed the routine and security of getting up and going to work. Barbara's salary provided all they had needed or wanted, but he had continued working because he enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment he got after a day's honest work.

He missed the little unimportant things too, like Barbara nagging him to come to bed when he stayed up past bedtime to play war games on his computer or read his military history books on the American Civil War or Napoleon's campaigns. He had wanted to join the military after graduation but Barbara had tearfully begged him not to. To make her happy he had not enlisted, though he still regretted not serving. The games and books were his way of living a path not chosen.

He missed Barbara most of all; her smile, the scent of her hair, the feel of her body in his arms. It was all gone now, and he wept for what was forever lost.

When his grief had run its course he climbed gingerly to his feet, cradling his injured hand. It was swollen to twice its normal size. The skin stretched taut and turned purple around his knuckles. He sat at the table and stared at the wall, seeing nothing. He felt numb and drained, as though he had no feelings left.

Jack had no idea how long he sat there, lost in the fog of his personal misery. Someone knocked vigorously on his door, waking him from his stupor.

"Come in," he said, his voice wooden.

He didn't even glance up as the Captain entered.

"Are you alright?" Garek asked at the sight of Jack's swollen hand.

"I'm fine," Jack responded.

Garek knew better, but he let it pass. "I heard about what happened with Kairn, and thought we might talk."

"All right," Jack said noncommittally.

"Jack, I can't allow you to yell at one of my officers like that in front of the crew," Garek said.

Jack felt a flash of annoyance. Who was Garek to tell him what he could or could not do? "What're you gonna do about it?" he asked belligerently.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not a member of your crew or a prisoner. I am a guest, remember," Jack emphasized the word guest sardonically. "I don't take orders from you."

"You're on my ship," Garek said, a hard edge to his voice.

"I don't remember coming aboard of my own free will," Jack retorted, matching the harshness of the Captain's voice.

"I asked you –"

"You mean you tricked me," Jack interrupted.

"I did what needed to be done for your own good."

"For my own good? Or yours?" Jack surged to his feet, confronting Garek across the table, demanding an answer.

Garek stared at him.

"That's right," Jack continued. "Old Jack isn't quite as stupid as you think."

"Who's been talking to you?" Garek asked, furious that his orders hadn't been followed.

"No one's been talking to me. But I hear a word here, a whisper there. I pieced together that you need my help for something important, something dangerous. I haven't figured out what yet, but it's just a matter of time. Why don't you just tell me and get it over with."

"Why should I tell you anything after the way you've behaved?" Garek demanded. His own anger was close to the surface now.

"And why do you think I'd ever help you?" Jack shot back, ignoring Garek's question. "You don't know me. You don't know anything about me." Jack's voice had risen to a shout.

"I know enough to know that this isn't like you. Why are you so angry?" Garek asked, striving to get his own rising temper under control.

"I've lost everything. Do you understand that?" Jack shouted, his voice tinged with hysteria. "No, you don't, because you don't know loss like I do."

The blood drained from Garek's face and his mouth worked silently as though searching for words. "You think I don't know loss?" he finally asked, the words coming out sharp and cold.

"My eldest son Kron died choking on his own blood on a battlefield far from home with an arrow through his throat. And you think I don't know loss? My middle son Piet is gone as well, only he died with a sword through his chest. And you believe I don't know loss? You've met my youngest boy, Aiden. He has the mind of a child after his skull was bashed in. And you dare to presume I don't know loss?" Garek's voice had grown progressively louder with each sentence.

Jack was stunned. His own anger began to fade as the magnitude of Garek's tragedies sank in.

"I have lost more than you could imagine on the darkest day of your life," Garek bit out angrily before he fell silent with his fists clinched, breathing heavily.

"I am truly sorry for the death of your sons, but who's making presumptions now?" Jack asked, his tone returning to a normal level.

Garek hesitated a moment, mastering his anger with great effort. "You're right, of course. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make light of your pain."

"I didn't lose sons, but that doesn't change the fact that what I did lose changed me," Jack said. "I feel dead inside, and I'm not sure I can even care about anything again. This thing you need help with, it would be better for you to find someone else. If it's as important as I think it is, you need someone who's capable of caring enough to give it everything. I just don't have anything to give. I'm sorry."

"I know it feels that way now," Garek said. "I've been there. Give yourself some time and you may feel differently."

Jack looked skeptical, but nodded. "Are you going to tell me what it is you need me for?"

Garek was tempted to tell him the truth, but then reconsidered. The Outlander was barely holding it together as it was. To lay such a heavy burden on him now might push him completely over the edge. No, too much depended on him to risk it. He needed time to get over whatever it was that had broken him.

"Jack, I know you want to know everything at once, but please be patient," Garek said. "I will tell you everything before we reach Panaar and the King. I will promise you one thing. No one will force you to do anything you don't want to do. You will have a choice. For now, continue the sword training, get to know us, learn whatever you can about who we are as a people. Maybe you will find there is more to care about than you think."

Jack wasn't thrilled about being kept in the dark but a promise of information to come was better than nothing. Besides, it was all he was going to get for now so he nodded his acceptance.

"And Jack," Garek continued, "if you ever want to talk to someone, my door is always open to you."

Jack stared at the Captain. He knew what Garek was offering him, but he wasn't ready to tell anyone about Barbara's betrayal. The wound was still too raw and personal. Jack's confidence in himself as a man had been shaken to his very core. A man whose woman needed to find fulfillment in another man's arms wasn't much of a man. He felt degraded and embarrassed.

"I'm fine," Jack said, politely declining.

"Very well, I will send Ava to see to your hand," Garek said as he turned away. He opened the door then looked at Jack over his shoulder. "I trust you will be more discreet in the future if you have a disagreement with one of my officers?"

"I will," Jack said. "Wait, what about Monch?"

"What about him?" Garek asked.

"I'm not through with him yet," Jack said simply.

Garek smiled. "Monch isn't an officer," he said as he closed the door behind him.

After Garek left, Jack sat back down. Garek's admission about the death of his sons had snapped Jack out of the selfish stupor he had imprisoned himself in. He had been so wrapped up in his own self-pity that he had forgotten that other people suffered through their own heartbreaks and misfortunes as well.

Kairn was another problem. He had taken his frustrations out on the young officer, throwing a temper tantrum like a spoiled child. Jack felt foolish and was embarrassed by his outburst. He resolved to apologize to Kairn at the first opportunity.

This time, he rose and opened the door when he heard the knock. He stepped aside and let Ava enter. As she passed him her scent washed over him and his heart involuntarily skipped a beat. She smelled like flowers on a spring morning.

"My father said you were in need of me," she said turning to face him, seemingly unaware of the affect she had on him.

Jack raised his injured hand in answer.

She gasped when she saw how swollen and discolored it was. "Oh, you stupid man, what have you done now?" she demanded, taking his hand into hers.

Her touch was soft, delicate, and Jack felt a shiver run through him at her touch. He looked away and tried to ignore the way she made his breath quicken. "Nothing intelligent, I assure you," he answered her.

She snorted at his answer. "I already knew that much," she said, examining his hand closely.

As she studied his injured hand, his eyes were drawn back to her of their own accord. A lock of her raven-colored hair hung over her face, hiding one of her eyes from his gaze. Her lips were pursed and her brow furrowed either in concern or disapproval, he wasn't sure which.

'My God, she's beautiful, ' he thought, then silently berated himself. 'The girl is half your age for Christ's sake.'

Jack saw the tendril of light from the leyline flow through the ceiling and into Ava, suffusing her with a gentle golden glow. His hand tingled where she touched it, and he could feel her power softly radiating from her as she delved into his swollen flesh.

"Your knuckles are shattered," she said.

"I figured."

"I need you to sit down before I heal you. I warn you, when the bones knit it's going to hurt."

"Perfect," he said and went to the chair.

Ava followed, but stopped when she saw the earrings where they lay forgotten on the floor. She picked them up. "These are beautiful. Are they yours?"

"Yes," Jack said, taking them from her hand.

"You wear earrings?" she asked, incredulous.

Jack snorted. "Not since Bon Jovi, Worcester Massachusetts, 1989," he said as he slipped them into his pocket.

"I have no idea what you just said," Ava replied.

Jack laughed at the serious look on her face.

"What's so funny?" she demanded.

"Nothing, I'm sorry," he choked out, but then laughed again when her serious look turned to one of consternation. He couldn't deny, though, that she was gorgeous when she was irritated; she was gorgeous any other time too, for that matter.

With no little effort he got his amusement under control and sat down. He held his hand out to her. She took it, still frowning at him, annoyed that she didn't understand what had so amused him.

"Just the hand," he said, remembering what Kairn had told him after yesterday's training. Ava began to glow with power as he elaborated. "Leave the rest. Oh, and leave the blisters on my palms too."

"All right," she said. "Now, hold still."

Jack's eyes bulged in his head and he sucked in a ragged breath. To think he'd thought the pain in his hand had been bad enough. This was worse. The agony that now radiated from his hand redefined his knowledge of pain. It felt as though his hand was being forced through a meat grinder as each bone shard was tortuously pulled back into its correct location.

"Don't move, Jack," she said, though her concentration never wavered.

Jack gritted his teeth. He strove to keep his injured hand still but the pain was so intense that he had to move something. He slapped his other palm on the arm of the chair, hard, and curled his toes in his boots. Despite his best effort a groan escaped him.

"I know it hurts," she said soothingly. "Almost finished."

Time seemed to slow. Though it couldn't have been more than a minute, the healing seemed to last an eternity, and then the pain suddenly disappeared. Jack let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and slumped in the chair. He gasped and it was all he could do not to weep in relief.

"Jesus Christ, that hurt," he said, still breathing hard. He gingerly flexed his hand, noting that it had returned to its normal size and color.

"Splintered bones usually do," she replied. "They have to be moved through flesh that is already injured before they can be knit."

"Thank you," he said, looking at his hand in wonder.

"You're welcome," she said, smiling. "Just try not to do anything else stupid for a while."

"I'll try," he said, returning her smile. "But no promises."

"Men," she said in an exasperated tone as she moved to the door. She paused before leaving and looked back at Jack. "Tell me, if you don't wear earrings, why do you have them?"

"They were a gift," he said, the smile slipping from his face. "For my wife."

"Oh," she whispered. Her own smile faded as she closed the door behind her.

Jack sat alone in his room for a while after Ava left, trying to decide how best to go about apologizing to the young officer. He finally decided to just say he was sorry and hope for the best.

Jack found Kairn standing on the forecastle gazing ahead as the Arabella plowed through the choppy sea, rising and crashing back down as it crested each wave.

"Kairn," Jack said as he came to a stop beside the young man. "I want to apologize to you. I acted like a fool. I'm sorry and it won't happen again."

"It's already forgotten," Kairn said and clapped Jack on the back in response to his apology.

"Would it be all right if I return to practice tomorrow?" Jack asked, relieved that Kairn hadn't held a grudge.

"Of course," Kairn said, and just like that everything seemed to return to normal.

Over the next few weeks, Jack's muscles slowly adjusted to the rigors of the sword training and the debilitating soreness faded. The blisters on his palms finally healed and he was able to wield his practice sword without pain.

He threw himself into the training with a dedication that Kairn had never seen before. He improved rapidly and in addition to blocking many more of his opponent's strikes, he was now able to launch strikes of his own rather than always defending. He still failed to penetrate any of his training partners' defenses though.

Another curious thing happened. As Jack trained with them, the other sea dogs began to open up to him. They teased him good-naturedly, and Jack found himself returning their barbs and enjoying their company immensely. He began to feel as though he belonged with them, and he had to admit that it felt good.

"Good job, Outlander," one of the sea dogs said to him as they finished their morning practice.

Jack nodded to the man and fastened his practice sword to the storage rack.

"You're getting much better, Jack," Kairn said as he put his own sword next to Jack's.

"Maybe," Jack said. "But I can't land anything."

"Don't underestimate yourself. These men are veterans. They have been training for years," Kairn explained. "You have come much farther than you are aware of."

Jack grunted. He knew he still had a very long way to go before he had any chance of surviving a real sword fight. Any one of the sea dogs could gut him within minutes if the fight were for real.