Chapter Text
Jack Dawkins’s problem was that he could never let go. No, he really couldn’t, Jack reflected as he sat in the dark hull of the ship, his hands cuffed before him. The smell of rot came from all around him as the boat creaked around him, and Jack closed his eyes. He could hear the other prisoners struggling against their chains, metal rattling, but he just sat there, unable to bring himself to move. He knew it was hopeless, not when Captain Gaines stood on the other side of him, his gaze boring into Jack, intent like a bloodhound.
Gaines had been chasing him for months and now he had finally won. The anger that burned within Jack would never be fully quenched until that man was dead. He had dragged Jack away from the operating table, his hands still covered in Belle’s blood.
He didn’t know if she had made it. Belle had awoken, briefly from what he was able to see before they dragged him off again. She could be dead by now, she could be—he closed his eyes again, forcing himself to breathe the rancid air. No, she had to be alive, he had to believe that. If not—well, Jack didn’t really know what he would do with himself.
But it wasn’t like he could do much now. He was aboard a ship, being taken to somewhere, but he had no clue as to where, most likely to his death, even though he wondered why they hadn’t just hanged him. After all, it was what Gaines seemed to have wanted most of all.
Jack didn’t know how much time had passed since they had left. It could have been hours, it could have been days, he didn’t know. He had lost track of the time a long time ago, just sitting in the dark hull of the ship.
He hadn’t spoken a word since he had been hauled aboard the ship, just staring down at his cuffed hands, the chains attached to the floor. Gaines hadn’t spoken either, which he was glad about, he really didn’t want to hear that man’s voice, well, ever again.
Jack wondered how he had gotten to this point. It seemed inevitable, especially since Fagin arrived on the shores. He didn’t even know if Fagin was still alive, they had dragged him off a few days before they had taken Jack. He didn't know if—no. He had to be alive, Jack couldn’t let himself believe that everyone he cared for was gone. Fagin hadn’t been the best to him, but in the end, he had saved Jack, given Jack the time to get away. Without him, Jack would most certainly be dead.
He didn’t know why Gaines hadn’t just killed him outright. Made a spectacle of the young doctor’s death like he had threatened to do for the last few months. He had fully expected Gaines to hang him immediately. Gaines had been dragging him toward the noose before when Fagin had stopped him. But now, Jack was still alive, sitting in the dark, unsure of where he was going, or what would happen to him.
His question was soon answered when he felt the ship slow and the door creaked open, painfully bright light streaming in through the door. Jack stood unsteadily as someone entered, gun gleaming in the light. He heard the cells around him being unlocked and the prisoners being dragged out before his was too.
He was forced down onto his knees in the sand and Jack closed his eyes. In the past, he would have tried to escape, but he wondered what the point really was. Belle was gone, Fagin was gone, everyone he cared about was far away from him.
Footsteps stopped before him. He heard the sound of a gun being cocked, but he didn’t have the energy and lift his head to see who it was.
“Just get it over with,” Jack spit.
“Oh no, Dawkins,” Gaines stood over him. “But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?”
He was hauled up, pulled away from the other prisoners as the guards dragged him after Gaines. Gaines led the way across the beach and Jack glanced around him. They were on a small island, trees waving in the breeze, the ocean crashing against the shore. The ship that had brought him here was docked in the harbor. It was beautiful, Jack had to admit. A beautiful place to die.
Gaines led him toward the small settlement and pushed open the door to a small cabin. He took a seat in the chair, licking his pen before he looked up.
“Do you know where you are?”
Jack just glared at him.
“I’ll take that as a no.” Gaines leaned back in his chair. “You are on an island, so unimportant that it doesn’t have a name. Here, you will stay until you die, unknown and forgotten about.”
Jack had never really cared about his reputation before, he had always been more focused on his work, but he found himself wondering if anyone would actually remember him. Would Sneed remember him? Would the governor? Would—
“Just tell me,” Jack said, his voice ragged. “If she’s alive or not. Please, just tell me that.”
Gaines paused. “She is,” he said. “She’s alive and well. But she will never find out where you are.”
The relief that crashed through him nearly made him stagger backward. He let out a breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding. She was alive. The operation had worked. It was all that really mattered to him. For the first time since he had been thrown in jail, Jack felt something. A spark of hope, blossoming in his chest, and for a moment, everything faded away, Gaines, the camp, the soldiers around him.
Gaines stood again. He put his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Forget about her,” he said. “She will forget about you, she will move on, live her life out the way that she was supposed to all along. Think of it as saving her, Dawkins. She’ll be free of you.”
The anger rose inside of him and Jack moved to punch him before he was yanked backwards, shoved down into the sand. He nearly cried out in pain as Gaines kicked him in the side.
“Get him out of here,” Gaines ordered.
The soldiers grabbed him, dragging him away, and as he stared up into the painfully blue sky, Jack wondered if this was the end.