The stitching process was slow and the results were crooked, but it was the first act of magic she successfully performed since returning home. It was something she never thought she would be able to do again. She didn't mean to tear up. In fact, she was mortified to be crying at all. However, as Alfred spoke of feeling her internal magic combined with the grief of all that had happened, she could do nothing to stop the water works.

Even as she performed the chant, Jo didn't feel the tug that he spoke of. But, she also had never had to before. Magic was alwags just something she expected, a tool to be used like any other. She never could've imagined how lost she would be without it. "Damn it all to hell," she muttered as she wiped the seemingly endless pool of tears. "I don't mean to cry. It's just ..." She raised her right bloody useless hand and dropped it in her lap again. Jo turned her head towards the wall. This wasn't what she was here for. Alfred didn't need to sit and watch her bloody cry!

"I never had to look for that pull before," she said quietly, sniffling midway through her sentence. "I wouldn't even know what if felt like."

  

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beautiful set by mj

Alfred did not have a wealth of experience with tears. Sailors were not known as the sort to get sentimental very often, and if one had been feeling vulnerable they were just as likely to punch you as a result of it than to engage in such an overt display of emotion. He had been in quite some predicaments, though, during his time, so it had happened. On the Sycorax expedition when the men had felt so utterly hopeless that they allowed themselves something like this, he had felt it was his role, as an officer and then as the supposed Captain of their unfortunate voyage, to remain calm and collected and to reassure them that things weren't as hopeless as they seemed. Don't acknowledge any emotion at all, only respond to the facts, and do so in a way that instilled confidence. This was decidedly different from trying to reassure men facing almost certain death in the wilderness, but since that was the only experience he had, it was what he fell back on.

"You will," he said, reaching out to put his hand on her knee and give it a reassuring squeeze. "Just because it's difficult at first doesn't mean you can't do it. There was a time in your life when you'd never had to balance on your own two feet before, and you learned to walk all the same, didn't you?"

He hoped this was helping; he wasn't sure how to read her when she was in this state, and he couldn't be sure. "Here — try it again and close your eyes," he suggested, moving his hands back to the pillow to hold it for her. "Get rid of all the other distractions. Look for that magic inside you. It's there, you just have to find it. Then pull it out. You can do it."

The following 1 user Likes J. Alfred Darrow's post:1 user Likes J. Alfred Darrow's post
   Jupiter Smith

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Jo sniffled again. Although she was thoroughly embarrassed to be crying in front of Alfred, she was also incredibly grateful that it was him and not Zachariah. So much of their relationship revolved around her and her needs now, and she despised every minute of it. Jo wasn't the sort to wallow and pity herself, but the accident had taken even that level of confidence away. Everything was different now, from the ease of holding a glass to maintaining her friendships.

She nodded tensely and released one last shuddering breath. "Okay." Finding that spark wouldn't happen tonight, she was sure of that, but he was the only person providing an actual route to usefulness. Zach tried to help with his books, her mother tried with her nagging, but this was the first effort to actually speak to her. Something practical, useful. Something that proved she wasn't the second squib of the family.

After taking a minute or two to steady herself, Jo did as she was told. Her eyes closed, her hand moved over to where he had presumably cut another gash through his pillow (that she would most certainly be sending him repayment for). And, when she thought she found the feeling he spoke of, she began to chant. The stitches were sloppily made, the cut even more jagged than the one they'd performed together, but it was something. Something had to be better than nothing. "I don't know if that was it, I'll have to keep practicing at home." She mumbled once the chant was complete.

"Do you mind if I stay a little while longer? We can catch up ... you can tell me about the horrors of officially courting." She asked. The tears would only continue if they focused on finding the spark and practicing wandless magic. And, now that she knew she could at least perform one basic act, she was desperate to not openly weep.

  

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beautiful set by mj

Alfred watched her cast, chewing his lower lip. She still wasn't quite there, but he wasn't sure if pushing her would help. He'd taught her the gesture and the words; that was enough that she could practice at home, if she wanted. This sort of magic was a personal thing, and intense thing, and maybe it would take some time — or maybe it wouldn't happen at all, for the first time anyway, while he was here watching. By the time Alfred had started learning wandless magic with the tribe, the first spell had come to him fairly quickly, but that was different. He'd been through so much, and lost so much, that it was like... there was less of him there to look through, maybe, before he found the magic. Even then, though, he hadn't mastered a spell in an afternoon. So maybe she just needed some time.

"Sure," he said with a slight smile, tossing the pillow aside and reaching back to reclaim his drink from where he'd abandoned it on the table. He was trying to mimic the ease of their past conversations, but a part of him wondered if catching up involved any discussion of what had happened to her hand. "Stay as long as you like. And, yeah, it's pretty horrible," he continued, chuckling. Courting Zelda, of course, might have been delightful on its own; courting her family was decidedly less so.

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Despite the many grievances she had with her parents (primarily centering around the response to her injury these last few months) Jo would forever remain eternally grateful they hadn't insisted upon the proper life for her and her siblings. Aside from Earth (who many could claim was just as odd as Jo) the Smith siblings all had their bizarre traits and passions. Mercury had his chemistry, Mars her antiques. To have to settle into whatever typical life would have been a greater nightmare than any physical injury one could inflict.

"I bet," she replied. This afternoon was such a drastic difference from their previously easy friendship, and Jo wasn't quite sure how to pivot back go that. One thing was certain, though, she couldn't leave the story of her injury untold.

Reaching for her discarded glass, Jo drained the contents before beginning to explain, "I was foolish, in Egypt. Well, maybe not foolish. Overconfident, maybe." Those did run hand in hand though, didn't they? She sighed heavily. Merlin, if only she could go back. "There was this tomb and we were certain a hidden room existed in one pathway. The bricks were laid out in a different formation, the mortar of a different composition than most of the rest of the tomb. It didn't make sense for there not to be something there."

She broke off, realizing with a slight flush that she was at the beginnings of a lengthy tangent. Alfred didn't need to know every detail of it all. "The short version of events is there was an explosion rigged with a curse. The explosion killed two of my colleagues, another lost his arm from the curse." She looked down towards her gloved hand, towards the too-rigid wooden fingers shoved into the middle and ring finger holes. Even now, she couldn't remember the direct aftermath of the explosion.

  

Apparently catching up did involve the story of the hand. Alfred listened, facial features neutral. He didn't know anything at all about hidden rooms in ancient tombs, but he did know a thing or two about being foolish, and overconfident. And he certainly knew a great deal more than he would have liked to about death.

When it seemed that she'd finished, he took a short but deep breath. "Is that the first time you've lost someone? During your work?" he asked.

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

"Yeah," she said simply. Curses weren't uncommon, but explosions were. "They went quickly, or so I was told. I don't remember anything that happened after the brick shifted. One minute we were working and the next I was waking up in the hospital after a month of unconsciousness." She didn't think much of the two that had perished. In truth, she hadn't worked with them for long enough to form any sort of sentimental attachment.

  

Alfred watched her expression, considering. Something in either her features or her tone reminded him just a touch of Charity, and the way she talked about her late parents. Perhaps it hadn't really all settled into place yet. Perhaps she didn't want it to, and was purposefully not thinking about the thing she had implied, but not said: that it was her fault they were dead. No matter who they were or what she knew of them, that was a weight that

He chewed the inside of his lower lip briefly as he thought. After a moment, he said, "It doesn't get much easier, no matter how many times it happens. And that... the tendency to blame yourself doesn't ever go away, no matter how they die. Whether it was preventable or not. I think it's a way of coping, honestly," he said, a touch hesitantly. "Not that it feels great to think that you're at fault for some catastrophe that could have been avoided — but blaming yourself is... easier... than accepting that there isn't anyone to blame," he continued. "Because if there's no one to blame then you have to live with the idea that it could just happen again. Or something like it. At any moment, just —" he made a quick gesture with his hand, then spread his fingers wide; a lightning strike and an explosion. "And it's easier to keep on if you think instead that it's you; that if you do better, or try harder, or notice more — if you're not so foolish or so overconfident — it won't happen again."

Alfred paused. Perhaps that was all a bit too much, at least in this moment. "Although that probably doesn't make you feel any better," he added with a slight flush of his cheeks, turning his attention to his drink.

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Alfred was touching on something Jo hadn't yet allowed herself to delve deeply into. Thus far, her grief centered around herself — her injuries and her experience. Taking on the burden of knowing her foolishness had caused the death of two men — two seemingly good men was simply too much to bear at present. Because, regardless of whatever true statements Alfred offered, the facts remained that her direct actions caused the explosion. It was her fault, and, really, she wasn't yet ready to process that further than her own being.

"It was hardly a random incident," she replied quietly. "Not like my brother-in-law's death. No one could have predicted he would be struck by a carriage during a heavy fog." That very well could happen again, likely would to countless others over time. That was a stroke of fate or an unlucky roll of the dice. Jo's stupidity wasn't random, it was the naive behavior by a woman who didn't yet intimately understand grief and frustration.

Jo curled her knees into her chest and wrapped her arms tightly around them. "Blaming myself is the only rationale that makes sense. Direct cause and effect." Her expression deepened into a heavy frown. "Did you feel that way when you were shipwrecked?"

  

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beautiful set by mj

Alfred looked at her with a frown. He didn't go into great detail about his time wandering in the wilderness very often. He'd talk about time spent with the tribe readily enough, if he thought his conversation partner would be at all interested in it, but the years before had been a considerably darker time in his life. If there was ever a moment to talk about it, though, he supposed this was it. Jo understood more about him than most people did, and she was going through the same sort of dark thoughts that he'd struggled with for much of that period of his life.

"I made literally every decision for nearly two years," he said plainly. He was looking at Jo as he said it, but shifted his eyes down to his hands shortly after. From the time that the one other remaining officer had started to take ill — and for a good deal before then, when he had been slowly going off the rails — Alfred had been the one to decide when they moved and when they stopped, when they looked for food and water, which direction they went. Literally everything that had happened could have been traced back to one or more of his decision.

"And twenty-two people died. So... yes," he said, the volume of his voice lowering slightly towards the end. He shrugged. He glanced at her again, then off towards one of the charts hanging on the wall. "Yes, I've felt that way."

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Oh.

Twenty-two was a surprisingly large number, though given that he was on board a ship it really shouldn't have been. In fact, Jo really ought to be surprised that number wasn't higher. She couldn't fathom feeling the weight of the two men she killed multiplied by eleven. It was just too much.

Uncurling herself, Jo leaned forward and wrapped Alfred in a tight hug. There wasn't anything she could say to comfort him or herself, so she remained quiet even as she withdrew.

  

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beautiful set by mj

Alfred was a bit surprised by her reaction, and it took him a second to relax into the hug. He felt he should say something, but he wasn't sure what. Any kind of platitude would have rung hollow. He could have said it was a long time ago; it was. But that didn't mean anything. It didn't stop him from thinking about that period of his life. It didn't stop him from factoring in the lessons he'd learned then into every subsequent decision. He could have said it's alright, but it wasn't. Not for the twenty-two men who were dead, or for their families who would never see them returned to them or even have the closure of being able to bury a body.

The most he could really say was that he'd survived it, but that wasn't profound enough to waste the breath it took to speak it. Maybe he could have claimed to be better for it — but maybe he could've improved just as much through time without having killed anyone at all.

"My brother can't understand why I didn't give up sailing when I finally made it home," he said after a long pause. "But you get it, don't you?"

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

"I do," she affirmed. Archaeology was her passion just as much as sailing was his. But, more importantly, to give up her career felt almost like she was failing the two men who died doing it. A betrayal, even. Those two men wouldn't have stopped, so neither could she.

She sighed. "I can't quite explain it, not in a way that'll make any lick of sense." That archaeology likely wasn't an option for her anymore was a more complicated reason to not return to her field. Or, at the very least, it wasn't available to her as it once was. Jo could hardly be responsible for handling artifacts when her hand was likely to begin trembling at any given second. It would be almost a bad a catastrophe as when she fell through the floor of an excavation.

"My family doesn't think its wise for me to travel anymore, with my injuries and all. Neither does Zach for that matter, though he's much kinder about it." She tried to explain. "But to stop completely ... how could I justify that to them?"

  

Alfred nodded. Even without the debt of a death in one's past, there was something about having a calling like this. No matter where he was or what he was doing, a part of him would always long for the open sea. Jo's archeology was different, of course, but he presumed that same type of desire burned inside her. He wasn't sure what gave some people that fire when others seemed to lack it — he did not think, for instance, that Evander had ever longed for something in his life — but once it was there, there was no extinguishing it.

"You know," he said, looking up at her again. "I went years without so much as seeing a sail, when I was living with the tribe. But that didn't mean I'd lost it forever," he pointed out — though of course, he hadn't known that at the time. "And there were still a lot of moments of joy during those years, even without it." He paused, glanced down at her gloved hand. "It's alright to take a break. It doesn't mean you've given up."

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

"Was it easy to get back into it?" She asked. For her, participating in excavations came as naturally as breathing. Even now with all her trauma and grief, Jo could vividly picture the set up in Venezuela, the layout of the tools and the careful roping off of areas. But, would she still remember what went where if she returned to it five years later? Would she still even be accepted as a professional?

She took a deep breath. Alfred wasn't wrong about there being joy to be found, as she already was keenly aware of the possibilities waiting for her. "There's a man who wants to marry me. Here." Jo continued, surprised by her admission. Alfred was the first person to know of her relationship, and, shockingly, it felt like a relief to speak of it with someone who wouldn't judge or pressure her.

"He's wonderful and I'm happy. But ... marriage ... it was never something I dreamt of. It was never something I envisioned myself doing."

  

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beautiful set by mj

"Easy as breathing," Alfred said with a smile. Returning to sailing had been easier than returning to magic, and he'd spent seven of his formative years learning how to do magic. Some people had careers, and perhaps if they stepped away from them it might be difficult to return again; other people had callings, and they were never too far from what they loved no matter how many years separated them.

The next thing she said was rather surprising; he hadn't imagined she'd be the type. Mostly because she'd come right out and explicitly told him she wasn't the type, when he'd been explaining all the reasons he oughtn't to kiss her last spring. He raised an eyebrow, but when he responded his tone was lightly encouraging. "I've done all sorts of things I never envisioned myself doing," he pointed out. "So I wouldn't let that stop you. All that matters is that you're happy," he said, flashing her a smile and then reaching to take a drink. "Are you worried he'll want you to be too traditional?"

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER