Work Text:
Fallen leaves crunch beneath Evangeline’s boots as Jacks helps her down from their carriage, holding her hand tightly to support her. Darkness has begun creeping in, shrouding the forest around them in shadow, and the autumn air is crisp tonight—not too cold, but Evangeline finds herself shivering regardless. Wordlessly, Jacks slips his cloak over her shoulders, even though it’s only a minute's walk to the party from where they were dropped off. The sweet gesture warms her up a little from the inside.
He leans down, his lips brushing her ear. “We could’ve stayed home, you know,” he murmurs. “It’s much cozier in our bedroom.”
“Jacks.” Evangeline tucks herself under his arm as they make their way up the cobbled path to the manor’s entryway. “It’s LaLa’s engagement party. It would be terribly rude of us not to show up.”
“This is her fourth engagement party in three months,” he remarks drily, giving her a sidelong look. “And since when have I cared about being rude?”
“Since I care,” she says with a playful swat to his chest, “and you love me, so that means you have to care too.”
An incredibly overdramatic sigh escapes him as a servant boy opens the door for them to cross over the threshold. “Alright, I’ll behave,” he concedes. Then, as an afterthought, “But I won’t enjoy it.”
The foyer they step into is swathed in soft candlelight, making their shadows dance on the wall as if they’re enjoying a party of their own, and lavishly decorated with the crest of House Verita—the beautiful family emblem of LaLa’s latest spouse-(not)-to-be. It's quite a lovely scene, setting the mood for the party wonderfully. Although, the insulation in Verita Manor mustn’t be very good, Evangeline thinks. Tall flames are blazing away in the fireplace next to her, yet she’s still feeling rather chilled.
Now that they’re inside, Jacks tries to take his cloak back to hang up with the other guests’ outerwear. Desperate not to lose the modicum of warmth it’s bringing her, Evangeline stops him with a hand on his, and she draws the cloak tighter around herself.
“You’re still cold?” He looks puzzled, and a touch concerned.
Her lips part to tell him don’t worry, I’m fine, but LaLa suddenly appears through the heavy wooden doors in a flurry of glitter and jewels before she can get any words out.
Her friend is sparkling, as always. The gold of her long, sleeveless dress beautifully complements her brown skin and golden tattoos, and her smile is so bright it almost renders the candles in the room useless.
“Evangeline, you look fabulous! I’m so glad you made it, my darling friend!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around her shoulders. “You too, I suppose,” she adds, tossing a glance Jacks’s way.
“Ha ha.” He sneers. “Funny. Have you ever considered becoming a jester?”
LaLa sticks her tongue out at him as she links her arm through Evangeline’s. “Come with me,” she says. “Let’s get you both something to drink. Might make Jacks a little less unbearable to be around.”
The two girls share a giggle when Jacks scoffs, and Evangeline lets her friend lead them to the main ballroom, where the celebrations appear to already be in full swing. Wherever she looks, there’s couples dancing, friends laughing over goblets of wine, and tiny purple dragons flitting around relighting candles every time they’re snuffed out by the swish of a ruffled party dress.
On a normal day, Evangeline would’ve been thoroughly entranced—after all, it’s exactly the kind of magical atmosphere that she adores, full to bursting with merriment and mirth.
Tonight, however, she just feels oddly out-of-sorts. It’s as though her head is stuffed with cotton balls, and that same chill from before has settled deep into her bones, gnawing at her relentlessly through the warmth from the ballroom and her clothes. Nonetheless, she’s grateful for Jacks’s cloak; it’s thick with a fluffy lining, and his familiar scent that lingers on the fabric brings her a sense of comfort. She loves that he still smells deliciously of apples, even if he hasn’t needed them to keep his curse at bay for months.
As soon as LaLa has snagged three flutes of bubbling pink liquid from a passing waiter, Jacks is bending down to Evangeline’s height, and the fresh scent of apples becomes stronger, wrapping around her like a blanket.
“Are you feeling okay?” he asks, his eyes on her face, studying her expression. “You look a bit pale.”
“I’m okay, Jacks. Really,” she promises, and she gratefully accepts a glass from LaLa. Perhaps a dash of alcohol will help to lift her spirits.
Jacks is clearly not convinced by her reassurance. She can tell by the way he’s looking at her, like he’s trying to peer directly inside her mind to discern if she’s telling the truth. It’s not like she wants to lie to him, it’s just that Jacks can be somewhat paranoid when it comes to her and her well-being. If he knew she wasn’t feeling all that great, he’d certainly whisk her straight back home to tuck her in bed with a mug of hot honey-chamomile tea. Now that she thinks about it, that actually does sound awfully nice…
No, she wants to stay. For LaLa.
He gives her another once-over, still looking a bit skeptical, but he doesn’t press the issue, much to Evangeline’s relief.
Thankfully, LaLa distracts his attention by pointing out a tall, red-haired woman engaged in conversation a few feet away. “There’s Astoria!” she says. “My new fiancée. I’ll have to introduce you all later, once the rest of the guests have arrived.”
Jacks quirks an eyebrow. “You know, four engagements in a single season is impressive. Even for you.”
“Oh, hush. She looks lovely, LaLa.” Evangeline plasters a smile on her face. She’s trying her very best not to let on just how poorly she’s really starting to feel, but just then another shiver wracks her body, sending chills down her spine. The resulting frown that twists Jacks’s features is unmissable.
“She is,” LaLa agrees emphatically. “It is a shame I won’t actually get to marry her.” There’s a beat of silence, and then she shakes her head. “But at least we get to have a fun party!”
Right, a fun party. Evangeline so badly wants to be having fun. LaLa has put so much effort into this night, and she wishes she was enjoying it as much as she usually would be, but every second spent standing at the edge of the ballroom is more draining than the last. The lights are too bright, the music is too loud, and gods, she’s still freezing. Her mind is so fuzzy that she barely even registers Jacks speaking to her until he’s waving a hand in front of her face.
“Little Fox, are you really sure you’re alright?” he asks for seemingly the millionth time.
No. No, she’s not sure at all. In fact, she knows she isn’t alright; she’s almost certain she’s come down with something, but she doesn’t want to stress him out, or be a dampener upon the evening. “I think it’s just the alcohol. I guess I’m a little tipsy,” she says with an attempt at laughter that sounds weak even to her own ears.
“You haven’t even lifted the glass to your lips once.”
She feels her cheeks flush pink at being caught out, and then Jacks is pushing her hair back from her forehead and pressing his palm to her skin. “You’re burning up,” he mutters, “but you’ve been shaking like a leaf all night. You’re—yes, don’t think I haven’t noticed. You’re obviously unwell, Evangeline.”
Evangeline this time, not Little Fox. For a moment she fears he’s angry with her, but then his expression softens. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Not angry. Just worried. This reaction is just about exactly what she expected, and she feels guilt settle in the pit of her stomach for keeping how she was feeling from him. LaLa is looking at her with concern too, her perfect brows pinched together anxiously when she should be smiling and laughing and having a good time celebrating her engagement.
Evangeline feels terrible. She was so focused on pretending that she was okay because she didn’t want to trouble anyone, but it seems like she’s only made things worse.
“I didn’t want you to fret about me. And LaLa was so happy that we were coming—I didn’t want to spoil her party.” Evangeline turns to send an apologetic look to her friend. “I’m sorry. I thought I could just wait it out, but it hasn’t gotten any better,” she says pitifully.
LaLa is quick to gently dismiss her apology. “Don't be sorry! Of course I want you to be here, but your health is much more important, my sweet friend. I don’t want you to torture yourself for my sake.”
“And neither do I,” Jacks adds. “We’re going home.” He takes her hand in his, his expression brokering no argument. “You’re sick. You need to rest.”
Evangeline thinks about protesting, but she really isn’t in any condition to put up a good fight; if she tries to argue, she suspects he’ll just pick her up and sling her over his shoulder. And to be quite honest, their warm bed does sound like her idea of heaven right now, so she nods.
A look of relief passes over Jacks’s face, and he stands by impatiently as LaLa pulls Evangeline into a tight farewell hug. “I hope you feel better quickly, darling,” she says, planting a kiss on her cheek. “We’ll catch up as soon as you’ve recovered?”
“Of course!” Evangeline agrees readily, though her throat is so tight with guilt it comes out a little strangled. She loves LaLa, and she’s so worried she’s made her friend’s party all about herself. She’s worried Jacks is upset with her for not speaking up about how bad she was feeling. She’s worried she’s being a nuisance.
As a young girl, she’d had no hesitation about asking for comfort from her mother and father for any reason. But that was quite some time ago—her stepmother, on the other hand, had made it very clear that she was not to be bothered with trivial matters such as illnesses or anxieties or feelings, and Evangeline is still struggling to unlearn the urge to bottle things up so as to not be a burden.
It helps that Jacks treats her like she’s the only thing in the universe that matters.
Before she can dwell on her self-pitying thoughts for too long, he’s tightening his grip on her hand as he starts to lead her through the throngs of party guests, wasting no time getting her out to the courtyard and bundled back into their carriage.
“Hang in there, Little Fox,” he grunts as he thumps his boot against the wall to get the driver to set off. “I’ll have you nice and comfy in bed before you know it.”
──────────────────
Their journey home to the Hollow is a blur.
The fatigue she’s been battling all night comes crashing down on her like a white-crested wave, and it’s all she can do to keep her eyes open, sitting half in Jacks’s lap, his cloak draped around her as a makeshift blanket. Neither of them speak for a while. The carriage is quiet except for the rattle of the wheels on the uneven path, the clip-clopping of the horses’ hooves, and his steady heartbeat beneath her ear. In another circumstance, it might’ve been peaceful. Right now though, Evangeline’s head is too stuffy for her to feel anything but miserable.
The only thing keeping her grounded is Jacks gently running his hand up and down her arm and pressing soft kisses into her hair every now and then. Her feverish brain zeroes in on that feeling, everything else falling away as she allows her eyelids to flutter closed, just for a moment, a brief reprieve from her gradually deepening exhaustion. Jacks must notice that she’s beginning to doze off—he pulls her closer to him, shielding her from being jostled by the bumps in the road.
“My poor Little Fox,” he mumbles into the silence, and she feels the vibrations of his voice against the top of her head. “Too stubborn for your own good, sometimes. I wish you would just let me look after you.” Evangeline wonders if she was supposed to hear that, or if he thinks she’s fallen asleep.
I know, she thinks to him, because she doesn’t trust her voice to work. I’m sorry.
“Hey, no. No apologies,” he says quietly. If he’s surprised that she heard him, he doesn’t show it. “I’m not upset with you, not at all. Just promise you’ll be honest with me if you don’t feel good from now on, hm?”
She’s too weary to respond with words, so she nods against his chest to show him that she understands. Their conversation lapses after that, and Evangeline continues to slip in and out of a half-asleep daze. She only fully opens her eyes when she feels a slight breeze on her face, and she realizes Jacks is carrying her across the bridge from the Hollow’s inn to their treetop loft.
She still remembers the first time he carried her over this bridge, when her back was a painful mess of blood and lacerations from that dreadful mirror curse. He’d held her close and brought her to safety, dressed her wounds, tended to her like he really cared for her. At the time, she had feared she was deluding herself. When she found the mirth stone in the grandfather clock, she couldn’t help but believe that they had both unknowingly let the stone’s magic get the better of them, that every tender moment they’d shared had been nothing but an illusion.
Now, she knows very well that Jacks’s feelings for her don’t have anything to do with a silly little rock. He’s well and truly, madly, deeply in love with her, and he doesn’t go a day without showing it.
He’s definitely showing it tonight, his all-encompassing love for her evident in the gentleness of his touches and the softness of his words.
He carries her all the way to their bedroom, laying her down in the blankets and furs before shrugging off his doublet and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Once he’s helped her change into her nightdress, he checks her temperature again, feeling her forehead with the back of his knuckles and then frowning. “You’re still clammy,” he tells her. “I’m going to get you a cold washcloth. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”
The idea of getting out of bed right now is so ridiculous that Evangeline almost laughs aloud.
Then Jacks is gone, no longer next to her, leaving behind an awful emptiness in her chest. She can hear clattering coming from the bathing room, the sound of water running in the basin, and the shuffling noises of him searching the cabinets. Every second his absence continues feels like an eternity until he finally returns to her side holding a bowl of water and a small cloth.
“Come here,” he murmurs, gently pulling her to a sitting position and bringing the cloth up to her face. The cold water makes her hiss out a noise of surprise, and he shoots her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says, ever so softly. “I need to bring your temperature down. I know you feel like you’re cold, but you’re still burning up.” He brushes the cloth over her forehead, wiping away the sweat there and soothing her heated skin with the cool water.
“I wish I could do more,” he says quietly after a few moments. He dips the cloth back into the water and wrings it out, returning to dabbing at her face and neck and chest. “I’d take your pain away if I could, you know. I’d take all of it and leave you feeling good as new.”
“You do take away my pain,” she mumbles. “Every time you hold me.”
He smiles at that, pausing his ministrations to push some sweaty hair out of her face. He leans down and presses a kiss to her damp forehead, holding his lips to her skin for several seconds before pulling away. “Sweet talker,” he teases, and then he puts the bowl and cloth down on the nightstand. “I think that’s good for now. I’ll make you some tea, and then you can get some rest.”
He helps her lie back down, propping up the pillows between her and the headboard to cushion her. One more affectionate kiss to her forehead, and then he’s leaving for the kitchen.
It’s rather endearing watching him rush around to look after her when they both know it’s likely a seasonal fever and she could probably just sleep it off. Of course, Evangeline doesn’t think Jacks likes that she’s feeling so lousy, but she does have a sneaking suspicion that he’s enjoying playing nursemaid and having the chance to fuss over her like this—he always has been the overprotective type.
She doesn’t have to wait long for him to return with a steaming mug of tea, which he carefully hands to her before stripping down to his sleeping clothes and getting into bed next to her. He watches as she takes a sip, and as soon as the flavor hits her tongue, she can’t help but smile.
Honey and chamomile, just as she’d predicted earlier.
Delicately, Jacks tucks a strand of pink hair behind her ear. “Something funny?” he questions.
“Just that I knew you would make this exact tea when you found out I wasn’t well,” she says with a laugh, bringing the mug back to her lips.
He tilts his head. “Well, I want you to feel better. You need to rest, and chamomile helps you sleep, doesn’t it?”
Yes, it sure does. The warm tea makes its way through her body, doing its job of soothing her achy muscles and foggy head perfectly. When she’s done, she sets down the empty cup and snuggles up under his chin, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck. “Thank you for taking care of me tonight,” she whispers.
“I’ll always take care of you, Little Fox.”
His thumb caresses her cheek, and then he’s tilting her chin up so he can capture her mouth in a slow and soft kiss, pouring all his affection and care for her into the movement of his lips against hers.
“You shouldn’t do that, you know.” Evangeline giggles sleepily when they break apart. “You’ll get sick too.”
Jacks only grins and kisses her again, somehow even gentler this time.
“Maybe. But it’ll be worth it.”