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The island was a strange, unpredictable mistress. Yet still, if one gave something to the island, the island would always give back. As much as ‘an eye for an eye’ ruled the island, so too did ‘one good turn deserves another.’ In some ways, it was strangely human; the island would strike deals and give opportunities. In other ways, it was beyond human; it did not speak with words or thoughts, but it communicated. Its words were not of any language; they were confusing and indecipherable at times. However, one truth rang out over all–one who gave their life to the island would receive something equally valuable in return.
From the slick, oppressive depths of the well–where the once-unyielding arms of cranes and beams of steel twisted as lithely as vines or roots–Juliet dwelled in the cool shadows at the bottom. From where she was on the debris-showered surface, she could barely see a sliver of blonde hair behind the silhouettes of bent, twisted metal–her own body, she realized. She should have been more upset, but instead a numbness settled over her. An acceptance. She lingered just out of reach of a beam of light, staring passively at what she observed to be a bloody hand jutting out between two chunks of steel.
Still, even here, she felt a calm settle over her–a presence. It felt like she’d known all this time the rules and laws of the island and had just now unlocked it. She knew–almost instinctively–that it was time to make her choice. She’d given her life, a satisfactory offering, and now could fulfill a wish of her own. Turning around, Juliet wandered further into the shadows; past the metal and the body, past the stone and rock, past the walls themselves. In a moment, she was completely swathed in darkness.
The choice itself seemed to weigh on her more than her own death–she considered it solemnly for a moment. Such a finite opportunity–but what could possibly be worth her life? What experience would she have traded her own body for? Quietly, she contemplated her options. After everything that had happened, the one thing she’d like to see more than anything else…
Making up her mind, Juliet lifted her chin and firmly stated her choice. The island itself seemed to think on it for a moment, as if giving her a chance to change her mind. When it was met with nothing but definite silence, it seemed to concur.
In a moment, the vast, silent void around her began to transition–the hum of underground ambience and the creaks and groans of settling steel became a chorus of crickets and nightbirds. Shapes revealed themselves in the shadows, subtle moonlit highlights and drops of condensation defining the surfaces of leaves and ferns. At her feet, gravel and shattered glass melted into cool loam, from which moss sprouted. The hot, citrus-scented breeze felt like home.
Taking a second to get her bearings, Juliet could feel the island pulling her northwards. She didn’t need to push aside ferns and leaves or step over any roots or logs, simply maneuvering over and through them like the wind itself. Familiarity sparked in her mind, and she broke onto a small deer trail which was carved through the brush. From there, she could see the distant, warm glimmer of torchlight through a treeline up ahead. What first looked like an indefinite yellow glow revealed itself to be two torches, set up at the entrance of a makeshift camp.
Juliet approached, feeling no fear or hesitation as she slid past the two guards stationed there. They didn’t notice her or pay her any attention. Despite how late it was, a few people were up and about, but most of them were making their way to their tents for the night. Some she recognized, some she didn’t.
As she passed through the copse of canvas tents, Juliet watched as one by one, the candlelight inside each shelter was blown out. She continued to look for her objective, weaving noiselessly past a few women clothed in well-worn rags, gossiping quietly outside one of the tents. She spotted a few shelters that were a little separated from the rest and moved towards them. There was less torchlight here, and all the candles inside were blown out. On a crate outside one of them, Juliet sighted Daniel’s journal. Her gaze slid up to the closed entrance; she had a good guess at who was inside, but that wasn’t what she was here for.
Finally, she caught sight of another tent, far separated from even these shelters. There was no torch outside; only the flicker of candlelight from inside separated it from the shadows. Outside the canvas tent, several crates and a water basin were positioned in the soft loam. Juliet wondered for a moment if she’d gotten the right tent, but as soon as she heard a noise from inside, she knew this was what she was looking for.
It sounded like a whimper or a soft, feeble cry, but it was too muffled from there to hear. Juliet gingerly moved forward, stopping just outside the entrance to the tent. She could already hear voices from inside–voices she recognized.
“No… No… ‘m sorry… ‘ll be good, please don’t…” Tired, feeble whimpers from the back of the tent. The voice sounded strained and hoarse, as if it’d been in use for hours.
“Woah–Easy, easy; I’m sorry Ben, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m just trying to check your temperature, I promise,” Another equally tired voice. Juliet felt her heart ache at the sound of another small, panicked noise from inside. Quietly, she slipped through the entrance to the tent.
Richard crouched over a cot–his cot, Juliet realized–with a damp cloth in hand. He gently tended to the occupant, movements slow and hand steady. For a moment, he blocked Juliet’s view. As he turned away to place the cot on a bedside table, she could see how tired he looked. His movements revealed a small, crumpled up figure hidden in the blankets. She could barely see anything but a mop of brown hair within the covers.
“Mmh… It… hurts…” The figure shifted slightly, burying his face further in the blankets with a delirious shiver.
“I know, I know–The medicine will start to work soon, I promise,” Satisfied with the array of first-aid paraphernalia on the nightstand, Richard’s expression softened as he extended a hand to him.
Juliet held her breath as Richard reached toward the bed, his palm hovering over Ben. The boy flinched, making him hesitate. Gently, he lowered his palm and let it rest on the boy’s head. Ben stiffened, as if expecting for a blow, but gradually relaxed. Richard began to gingerly smooth his hair back in soft, slow motions. Too tired to be afraid, Ben leaned weakly into the comfort.
“It’s been a few years since we’ve met; do you remember me? When you were out in the jungle, looking for your mother.”
Ben seemed to take a moment to process this, shifting ever so slightly in the nest of blankets. “My… My mom. I… I killed her.” After a moment of confused silence, he added “When I was born…”
Richard frowned. “That’s… That’s ridiculous, Ben. Who told you that?”
“…My dad.”
Sighing, Richard continued to gently pet his hair. “That’s not true–what he told you.”
“No–No, my dad… He wouldn’t lie,” He seemed almost upset, but the sudden burst of energy flickered out as soon as it had sparked. “He… He wouldn’t…” He continued to mumble into the bedsheets.
Juliet hovered near the front of the tent, watching. Richard’s gentle, steady hands combed through Ben’s hair.
She’d heard his father say something about him killing his mother–but she didn’t know he really believed it. Of course he would have, he wouldn’t have known any better, she corrected herself.
“Perhaps he was mistaken, then,” Richard compromised in order to avoid upsetting him, but Juliet could see by his expression that he was troubled. “That’s… Just not how being born works.”
Though not fully convinced, Ben seemed satisfied enough to drop the subject. He pressed his face further into the blankets. Richard glanced up for a moment, staring right past Juliet toward the entrance of the tent.
“It’s getting late, Ben, you should be asleep by now.” Richard chided gently. This received no response from Ben, who still lay trying to steady his breathing. “I do have work to do; why don’t you lie here and–“
“No–No, please… Don’t leave me,” Ben’s voice rose sharply, cracking with desperation. Almost immediately he attempted to push himself up, only able to succeed in holding up his head before collapsing. Richard reached forward to steady him, brows knit with concern.
“Woah, easy–Don’t try and get up, you’ll hurt yourself,” Richard advised, trying to settle him. Again, Ben pushed himself up. Before Richard could react, he’d flung his arms around his neck and clung to him desperately.
Juliet held her breath, intently watching Richard’s reaction. She watched him tense for a moment. Then, he closed his arms around the shivering boy. Juliet exhaled, relieved, as the knot her stomach had twisted into dissipated.
Realizing what he had just done, Ben seemed to regain a small piece of consciousness, stiffening. “S-Sorry! I didn’t mean to–“
“No, it’s… It’s okay. I don’t mind,” Richard silenced him gently, steady arms wrapping around him. Ben seemed almost confused for a second as Richard guided him to rest his head in the hallow of his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you, I won’t leave if you don’t want me to,”
It was surreal for Juliet; seeing one of her people–former people–be so tender. But she wouldn’t have handed him over to Richard if she didn’t trust him. She took a few steps closer, watching Ben melt into the comforting touch.
“You do need to sleep eventually, though,” Richard chided.
Face buried in the crook of Richard’s neck, the boy let out a long, shuddering breath. “’M scared…”
Richard seemed to consider this for a moment, absent-mindedly stroking the back of Ben’s small head in smooth, gentle motions. Juliet watched him, her gaze sliding to Ben. The pallor had vanished from his face; he already looked a lot better than she’d last seen him.
After a moment of thoughtful silence, Richard gently moved up onto the cot, scooping Ben up into his arms as he did so. Ben froze for a moment, surprised. Richard’s strong arms closed around him once more, settling the boy to his chest.
“There, see? I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”
Ben seemed almost unsure of how to react at first; Juliet wondered when the last time he’d had a hug was. After a moment of delirious confusion, however, the warmth and security presented was far too tempting. He wrapped his arms around Richard as much as he could, snuggling close to his chest. Almost immediately, his breathing seemed to even out; Juliet felt as if she could see the tension melting from his body. He didn’t flinch at all now as Richard reached up to brush some hair out of his face.
“What exactly are you scared of?” The inquiry was gentle.
“My dad…” Blue eyes glazed over with fear, Ben tightened his grip on Richard’s shirt. “He… He’s gonna come get me.”
“He can’t get you here,” Richard stated calmly, continuing to gently card his fingers through Ben’s messy brown hair.
“He will. He’s… he’s gonna wait for me to go to sleep. Then he’ll get me.” He whispered, as if afraid his father would hear. Juliet watched Richard’s eyes wander down Ben’s back, his free hand ghosting over a bruise which resembled the shape of a belt buckle.
“What… What exactly happens when he gets you?” Richard asked hesitantly. When this question was met with nothing but tense silence and a faraway stare, he decided to quickly drop it. Ben buried his face in Richard’s shirt, curling into the safe presence as if to try and hide.
“Well, he can’t get you here anyways. We’re far away from the Barracks; nobody knows where our camp is. Even then, there’s guards outside. He wouldn’t be able to get past the entrance.” Ben only seemed to consider this for a second, peeking out over Richard’s arm to look straight through Juliet.
“But… He might. He’ll come looking for me, and he’ll find me…” Juliet stared at the haunted, fearful glaze taking over his blue eyes. She was always so scared to look at him–even more scared for him to look at her–but now she felt no fear. They weren’t Ben’s eyes, not yet; they were the eyes of a scared, lonely child.
“He doesn’t know the jungle like we do. By the time he gets even close we’ll have moved. I don’t think he’d have any reason to suspect you’re here, anyways.” Though this reasonable, Ben still remained unsure, curling timidly into Richard’s arms.
Sighing, Richard decided to try a different approach. “Besides, I’ll be here, won’t I? He won’t try and get you with me around,” This seemed a little more convincing. Ben’s gaze flickered off to one side as he considered this.
“W-Well…” His voice trailed off, realizing that Richard might have a point. Before Ben could think of another way to dispute this, Richard went on.
“Even if you fall asleep, I’ll still be awake to watch over you. If anything happens, I’ll know. Your father won’t hurt you as long as I’m here,” Richard pulled Ben a little closer to his chest as if to emphasize this. Too tired to argue any further, Ben leaned into him, adjusting so he could rest his head on his chest. His eyelids fluttered sleepily, but he roused himself just as they were about to close.
“Mh… I’m… I’m not tired, though…” Juliet could barely hear him now, voice muffled as he fully buried his face in Richard’s shirt. Richard simply smiled knowingly.
“Shh… It’s okay now, just relax. Shh…” Ben opened his mouth to speak again but was swallowed by a yawn. Richard grabbed one of the blankets from the cot and pulled it up over Ben’s shoulders, continuing to comb his fingers through his hair.
With that, Richard began to hum softly. Not any particular melody, just something to fill the silence in the air. Juliet wandered right up to the cot, taking in the scene. Three years ago, she wouldn’t have been against the idea of… getting rid of Ben. The thought made her stomach churn now. All these years spent afraid of him, unable to intervene–but to her, this made it worth it. She felt no fear as she watched Ben’s breathing begin to slow and even out, his eyes fluttering shut.
It was bittersweet; she knew it wouldn’t last. In thirty years, that scared little boy would grow up to be a monster. He and Richard would become the tense, bickering pair that she’d known them as for so long. But at this point, she didn’t care. Future Ben was a completely different person to her. All six years total of being on this rock was worth it. In this moment he was safe, being taken care of by kind, experienced hands.
And for the record, she thought Richard had a lovely voice.