Poem - Titanic Pride

Picture from Microsoft Office 

It's intriguing to think

Of what happened to sink

A ship the size of Titanic;

To be crashed by a rock

Must have been quite a shock 

And the people must have gone manic.

Just a quiet old thing - 

How on earth could it bring

Such grandeur to such great destruction?

The jewel of the seas

Down on its metal knees

Through ignorance of one small instruction:

"Don't taunt the unknown

For it flies and has flown

To the seat of man's unmanly pride;

And the smallest of stones

Will break folly's bones

And the past won't forget what you tried."

Frostbitten - Chapter Twenty-Five

Jack fell asleep shivering.  Hermes, ignoring his painfully tingling nerves, picked up his once-apprentice and laid him in the hospital room chair.  Jack moaned softly and curled into a ball, his head falling onto the chair arm.

His words hung in Hermes’s head like a death call.  Your mark worked.

Hermes sat back on the edge of his bed and watched Jack twitch and shift through sleep.  Was it worth it, Hermes?  Was Jack turning ‘good’ again really worth ruining his life?

Frostbitten - Chapter Twenty-Four

Jack barely got to the next door in the hallway before the headache attacked him.  Claws raked down his brain, and white dots danced before his eyes.  He slumped back against a wall and nearly fell all the way down.

“Sir?” Someone touched his arm.  Jack opened his eyes.  A nurse stood there, frowning.  “Are you... Jack Frost?”

Jack nodded wearily, biting his tongue to keep from crying out.

“I’m sorry, but there’s a patient who wants to see you.  Another Legendary—“

“It’s Hermes, isn’t it?” Just moving his mouth made spikes drive through his skull.  Jack tried not to flinch.

The nurse nodded.  “He’s awake and we think he’s stable for now.  He’s been calling you ever since he woke up...”

She kept talking, describing some process that they had used to get Hermes’s skin back to normal, but Jack’s mind wandered.  His former mentor, also the one to give him up to a thousand-year stay in prison.  What kind of friend, what kind of mentor, what kind of adoptive father did that?

Jack saw himself, in his bloody armor, bloody staff in hand, a bloody smile on his face.  People all around him lay dead.  And he didn’t care.

He closed his eyes.  The smart kinds of friends and mentors and fathers do that.

“Mister Frost?”

He looked back at the nurse.  “Where’s he staying?” he croaked.

 “I’ll take you, sir.”

Jack followed her to an elevator, and the nurse pressed a button for the floor two stories above them.  Jack braced himself against the wall, feeling queasy.  The nurse tried to get him to take medicine or stay in the hospital another day or so, but Jack just waved her off.

They got to the right floor, and Jack went on with the nurse to a door at the end of the hall.  She opened the door a crack, then paused.  “I have to warn you, he’s not... not quite...”

“Not quite there?” Jack smirked and pushed the door in all the way.  “Don’t worry.  I’m used to that.”

“But—“

Jack pulled the door shut behind him.

The dimmers in the window were turned up, leaving the room dark.  The only illumination came from a light panel above the head of the bed.  A shape tossed back and forth under the blankets.

Jack stepped closer, suddenly apprehensive.  “Hermes?” he whispered, feeling for all the world like he was a naïve apprentice again.  In trouble for something.  Like the time he had accidentally knocked Hermes out of a stake-out tree—

The form stilled.  “Jack?” a voice rasped.

Jack winced.  Hermes’s throat must have been ruined.

He moved closer.  “That’s me.”

“I wondered if...” Hermes trailed off, then sat up slowly, shoving the covers away.  In the dim light, Jack could just see the pale pink skin, newly grown to replace the frostbitten.

Hermes rubbed at his eyes, then lowered his hands, focusing on Jack with difficulty.  “Intruder messed up my eyes,” he said.  Like it was a normal conversation, with two normal, sane people.

Jack swallowed hard.  Why couldn’t Hermes just scream at him for ignoring him all those years?  “I... I...”

Hermes’s expression softened.  He ran a hand through his tousled hair, waiting for Jack to go on.

Just tell me you hate me, Jack thought, the back of his throat tingling suspiciously.  Just... tell me.

“I... I’m sorry,” he blurted out, lowering his gaze.  “I’m sorry for everything.  I’m a fool.  You were trying to get me to stop – Bianca was too – but I couldn’t – wouldn’t – it was... was asinine and wrong and I can’t even think straight anymore because of it and—“

“Jack.”

The one gently-spoken syllable shut Jack up.  He stared at the ground, trying to keep his mind from the soldiers all clamoring for attention, and then there was that one figure that was starting to vanish – Hermes, his old mentor, standing there in the crowd, very still, shaking his head no, he could never take Jack back after the centuries of bloodshed and pain, all that he had caused and done—

Arms slid around his shoulders, and the strength leeched out of Jack.  His knees buckled.  Hermes tightened his grip and half dragged Jack to the bed.

Jack sank down to the mattress, shaking his head and clenching his eyes shut so tight that they hurt.  “It’s not that easy,” he said breathlessly.  “It’s not that easy.  Everything I did – th-the killing and—“

“Jack.  It’s all right.” Hermes tightened his grip.  “It’s all right.”

“No!” Jack shouted, straightening and breaking out of his mentor’s embrace.  “It’s not!   I don’t have blood on my hands, it’s all over me – the nightmares, th-they brought it all back, but it wasn’t how I thought it was when it happened – I thought they were puppets, going to die soon anyway, but they weren’t, and they told me—“

Jack cut off, his voice strangling in his throat.  He pressed the back of his hand over his mouth, trying to get it together, but the tears came anyway.  He started to turn away, hide the two cold, damp lines tracking down his cheeks.

Hermes caught his shoulders and looked straight into Jack’s eyes.  “It’s okay, Jack,” he whispered.  “I know.  I know.”

“No, you don’t,” Jack choked, closing his eyes.  “You had it together right after you got here... I’ve been a... a mur—I’ve been wrong for so long...”

Hermes said nothing.  Just pulled Jack closer, like he had so many times before when the nightmares hit.

Jack shuddered, clenching his eyes shut.  He swallowed hard, then whispered, “I... I guess your... your mark worked.”

Hermes still stayed silent, but Jack felt a warm drop of dampness fall into his hair.

Frostbitten - Chapter Twenty-Three

Jack awoke feeling much more refreshed than before.  Dark gold sunlight glimmered through the open windows.  The room was empty – Holly was gone.  Probably back to her hospital room to recover.

Sitting up and stretching his stiff arms over his head, Jack glanced at the monitors hooked to his wrists.  Come on, he thought.  I’ve got to go.  There’s so much to do...

Hermes, Invierno, Holly... come to think of it, Stonne Sector.  Jack closed his eyes and tried to think of the last of his wars while keeping away shrieking ghosts.  Stonne... they had never liked the Ice People, they had no army, and they were rich.  For Jack a thousand years ago, they had been the perfect target, the perfect place to watch those silly mortals die.

Now... now.  Jack clenched his eyes shut.  “Fool,” he said past gritted teeth.

The door swung open.  Jack straightened quickly and brushed at his eyes.  An older nurse came to his bedside.  “All the scanners and sensors indicate that you’re ready to leave,” she said stiffly, unhooking him from the monitors.  “The sooner the better, Frost.”

Jack froze and opened his mouth, but the woman was already striding back to the door, leaving it wide open in her wake. 

“Argh!” Jack banged his head back against the wall, barely even trying to restrain the anger against himself.  “You fool!”

The blanket over him crackled and solidified into stiff, icy folds.  The glassy ice zipped down the bed, over the floors, up the walls, over the equipment.  Water seeped into the electrical wires, and sparks spit out over Jack’s bed; the numbers on readout panels flickered and died.

An orderly glanced into the room, eyes wide as they landed on Jack.

Jack savagely kicked at his blanket.  It kept its form, flew off the bed, and clattered to the ground.  It broke in half, making the sound of ripping paper.

“Failure!” Jack shouted, sitting bolt upright and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.  The orderly rushed in, hands raised, but Jack shot him a narrow-eyed glare.  “Don’t even try to keep me here.  I’ve gotten out of much, much worse.”

The orderly pressed back against the icy wall.

Jack pushed up to his feet, nearly fell back down, caught his balance.  It was hard to stand after almost two days in bed.  Sucking in a deep breath, he turned to the orderly and forced his voice to hold steady.  “Where are my clothes?”

The young guy darted to a shelf and pulled out the shirt Holly had gotten, along with the old Tartarus Prison pants.  He tossed them to Jack, keeping his distance.  Jack caught them, yanked them on, then glanced around the room.

“Sorry for any water damage,” he said, limping to the door and out into the hall.

Frostbitten - Chapter Twenty-Two

Holly watched Jack sleep, swallowing back the painful coughs that scratched at her throat.  He was so still in slumber, more peaceful than he ever looked when he was awake.  He almost smiled, lashes dark against his white skin.

Nearly choking on abrupt, senseless tears – what was she crying over? – Holly scrambled to her feet and went to the door.  “Sorry, Jack,” she choked out.  “Sudden realization of girl genes.  Can’t stand the sight of you.  Be back later.”

She glanced down at herself once she was safely in the hallway.  Hair a greasy rat’s nest, wearing that gaping hospital shift, her shoes long lost...

I need a makeover.

The fever’s achey blanket made Holly shudder, but she yanked the last of the temperature monitor out of her wrist and tossed it into a nearby trashcan.  She couldn’t help Jack if she was busy being a damsel in distress.  Time to suck it up.

Holly sneezed and clapped a hand to her nose.  Maybe literally.

*

Four hours later, Holly stepped out of the hotel room bathroom and examined herself in the mirror.  She had gotten her hair cut to her preferred bob – somewhere, someone was enjoying a four-foot-long wing of strawberry red.  A thrift store visit had gotten her the white blouse, white pants, black belt, and white headband, and the hotel room had equaled a long shower.

Not bad, convict, she told herself, nodding to the reflection.  Not bad.

She threw away the hospital clothes, paid the hotel for the room, and wandered back out into the city.  The shower had helped alleviate the worst of her fever, but it still wasn’t nearly cold enough to take away the livid aches in her bones.  Holly shoved up the sleeves of her blouse and focused on ignoring the fever.

Okay.  Issues.  Holly stopped in a small park, crawling into an ice cave that was stained green.  The scent of snow and the aura of cold filled her senses, and she let her shoulders relax.  Problems... Hermes frostbitten by Jack, Jack’s curse, I’m crazy too...

She leaned back against the igloo’s wall and fell asleep.

Frostbitten - Chapter Twenty-One

Jack’s senses ground to a halt.  “He’s what?”

“He’s in intensive care,” Holly reiterated.  She planted both fists on the mattress; her tangled red hair tickled Jack’s nose.  “You wanna know what’s wrong with him?”

Swallowing, Jack glanced at the newspaper.  “No.”

“He was in his hotel room, and he got frozen.” Holly kept her eyes trained on Jack.  “Like, extreme frostbite.”

Another hot shudder traveled down Jack’s spine.  It took willpower to shift his gaze to Holly’s.  “Frostbite?”

Holly nodded.  “Wanna know what else is in here?”

“No.”

“They said that Hermes is the one that made the final call on marking you.” Holly sneered the word.  “Great coincidence, huh?”

Jack failed to make the connection.  “Why?”

“Why?” Holly waved a hand at the door, eyes ablaze.  “Those jerks practically told me out there!  And you don’t get it?”

Jack closed his own eyes.  “Holly.  I hurt.  Badly.  And I’m out of my mind.  Don’t expect me to think clearly at the moment.”

“Fine, fine,” Holly said from somewhere past the darkness.  Her voice lowered.  “They expect you.”

Jack snapped his eyes open.  “What?  How could I...”

Blood tainted his vision red.  A soldier waltzed past, half transparent, a hole through his forehead.

Jack shuddered.  “Oh, no...”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Is... is Hermes okay?” Jack croaked.

Holly shrugged.  “Dunno.  They found him earlier today.  This is the first rag of the day.  But that reporter already has suspicions.  Everyone else does, too.”

Jack laughed without humor.  “I’m sure I’d love to go deep-freeze my mentor right after I woke up from a twenty-four hour coma.”

Holly was silent.  Jack realized how plausible that really sounded.  If Hermes was the one who had put him in that coma... what was one more death to Jack Frost?

A cough grated from Holly’s throat.  Jack turned back to her, worried.  “You shouldn’t be up.  Don’t you have a fever?”

Holly waved a hand that Jack noticed was quivering.  “I’m fine.  This was more important than me.  I’m immortal, remember?”

But not invincible, Jack wanted to remind her, but he didn’t say it. 

He lay back, suddenly exhausted.  “What do we do now?”

Holly coughed again, then sank down on the edge of the bed.  “Right now?  I say rest a little.  Get your strength up.  You don’t look so hot.”

“That’s usually a good thing.”

“Figure of speech.  Go to sleep.”

Jack was happy to comply, letting thoughts of a frozen Hermes drifting into oblivion.

Frostbitten - Chapter Twenty

“Miss?”

Holly blinked open crusty eyes.  A nurse stood over her, a square piece of white paper in her hands.

“I thought you might like to read this,” the young woman said, laying the newspaper on the edge of Holly’s gurney.  “When you feel up to it, that is.  I saw the man with you, and I thought...” She trailed off.

Holly frowned blearily.  Her head still hurt, but she didn’t feel as lukewarm as she had after... after she had passed out.  Funny.  Why had she passed out again?  The last thing she remembered was Hermes leaving.

Oh well. 

The nurse left, and Holly pushed herself up into the pillows.  She picked up the newspaper, frowned at the tremble in her fingers, and looked at the front page, skipping the smaller titles.  The picture in the center drew her attention.  A tall, well-built man, in his early thirties, an absurdly large traveler’s hat shading sharp blue eyes...

Holly sucked in a breath.  Hermes.  The jerk.  What had he done to get on the front pages?

Then her gaze flitted to the bold title underneath the photo.  “Legendary visitor was found in his hotel room.”

Oh, no.

Holly flipped to the thirteenth page, where the story was covered in detail.  She scanned the text.

Oh, no.  Hermes...!  Holly tossed the newspaper to the side and glowered at the temperature meter hooked to her wrist.  I’ve gotta tell Jack.

*

A commotion outside his door roused Jack from his catharsis.  He stirred, unwilling to let go of the nightmarish images, then sighed and turned over when the shouting continued.  “Can you give a guy some peace and quiet?” he shouted hoarsely.

The door crashed open, and Holly stumbled in.  A wire dangled from a needle in her wrist, and two orderlies had their fingernails hooked in her hospital shift.

Holly raised her wire-less hand, waving a newspaper in the air.  “It’s Hermes!” she bawled over the orderlies’ attempts to get her back to her own room.  “He made the front page!”

Jack sat up, a hot grip clenching around his heart.  “Going to jail, I hope.”

“No.” Holly scowled her fiercest scowl at the two young men.  “Get your hands off me.  I’m fine.  If Jack doesn’t want me around, he’ll tell me.”

Jack flinched.  Watch out, Holly, I might kill you instead.

The orderlies sighed, then backed out, leaving the door open.  Holly gave it a kick.  After it clapped shut, she went over to Jack’s bed.  He noticed that she was limping.  “Are you all right?”

“Dandy.” She shoved the front page above Jack’s head.  He recognized his former mentor immediately.

“What does this have to do with me?”

“Look.” Holly flipped a few pages, then jammed a finger into the paper.  “He’s in intensive care.”

Frostbitten - Chapter Nineteen

Jack saw his first Invierno native the next morning.

“Bianca?” he mumbled, peering up at the morning-fuzzy face.

“Jack,” the familiar voice murmured.  A chilly hand touched his cheek.  “Finally awake.”

“Yeah...” Jack tried to wake up more, but his eyes wouldn’t cooperate.  “I overslept...”

A smile was in her voice.  “I noticed.”

Jack pried his eyes open, then pushed himself up on his arms.  “Be careful,” Bianca said, too late to keep him from the pain that attacked his skull. 

He sucked in a breath and slid a hand into his hair.  “Ow...”

A strange absence to his side made him look over.  He tensed.  “Where’s Holly?”

Bianca sighed and sat on the edge of the bed.  “She’s sick.  Migraine, little fever.  It doesn’t look bad, but the doctors didn’t want her to infect you.”

Jack swallowed back worry.  “Oh.”

“How do you feel?” Bianca took his hand.  Jack couldn’t help remembering the night before, Holly’s fingers in his.  They had been rougher than Bianca’s were now, calloused by a weapon’s wooden handle.  But gentler.

Then Jack remembered her question.  “Oh,” he repeated, closing his eyes.  “Exhausted.”

“I don’t blame you.” Even with his eyes closed, he could feel her piercing gaze on him.  “Do you know what happened?”

Jack’s eyes snapped open of their own accord.  “Holly said Hermes cursed me.”

“Something like that.” Bianca wouldn’t let go of his hand.  “It was a punishment, by the Agency and the Prophetic Board.”

A trickle of images dripped into Jack’s mind’s eye.  The darkened temple, the statue, the two people, falling, the clatter of metal, sudden weakness.  A curse already at work leaching his strength. 

“...called it a mark, but I’m not sure what the difference between that and a curse is.” Bianca paused.  “I wasn’t happy.”

Jack almost smiled.  He laid back in the hospital’s pancake pillows and rubbed his temples, trying to ease the pounding there.  “I appreciate your concern.”

“But you... you feel all right now?” Bianca asked anxiously.

“Pretty much.” Jack glanced at the window.  Midday light shimmered through.  “How long have I been out?”

Bianca did a quick calculation.  “Thirty-six hours.”

“All in a hospital...” He shook his head.  “Not the triumphant entry I was expecting.”

But the entry I deserved... Jack pushed away the bloodied, gutted soldiers of his mind’s imagining.

“You certainly have everyone jumping,” Bianca commented.  “The whole city is talking about you.”

“How did they know I was here?”

Bianca’s face twisted wryly.  “When Jack Frost comes back to town, everyone knows it.  We all know what you look like.”

Jack pondered it.  Generations and generations, too many to really count, had passed by while he spent his term in Tartarus.  And still everyone knew who he was, what he looked like, what he had done.  What he had done...

“You’re everyone’s hero, you know,” Bianca whispered.

Jack looked at her sharply.  His fingers dug into the mattress.  “Why?”

Bianca seemed startled by his shift in mood.  “Because... Jack, you’re winter.  Of course you’re the Ice People’s hero.  They think you were misrepresented.  That’s what happens over time, you know.”

Jack slid down into the bed with a groan.  “The idiots...”

“They can’t help it.  And you were rather a sympathetic warrior—“

“I was a blind fool,” Jack snapped.  “A sympathetic warrior doesn’t kill people because he’s bored.”

Bianca tried to get him to talk, but Jack didn’t have anything else to say.  He just stared out the window, his heart imprinting itself over and over against his ribs.  His stomach churned.  The ache in his head grew.  Words fit for conversation were out of the question.

Eventually, Bianca gave up and left him to his thoughts.

Frostbitten - Chapter Eighteen

The long darkness finally broke.

Jack opened his eyes.  Something hummed at his side; cool air swirled over his blistered skin.  Light made him flinch.  Was it over?

He tried to raise his head and gave a cracking groan at the pain the movement caused.  His entire body felt bruised and battered, burned and broiled.  The ache originated in his head – not surprisingly.

The first name that came to mind sprung to his lips.  “Hermes...” It came out in a croak, a barely-human sound.  Sparks of pain ran up the back of his swollen throat.

The space was dark, but not totally; a soothing half-dark that reminded him of twilight.  He was laying on something soft, with a silky cloth over him.  The humming... something... eased his headache, if just a little.

“Jack?”

The small, trembling voice struck something in Jack’s chest.  He sat up, nearly screamed in pain, and flopped back down.  “Holly?” he rasped.

“I’m here.” She sounded so unlike herself.  So frail.  So... old.

Jack managed to turn his head without passing out.  She lay in a chair near the bed, the seat’s back half-reclining.  Her wrists were chained to the wooden arms.

“What...” Jack had to stop and let the knives against his throat stop sawing his skin.  “What are you...”

“Oh, I’m dangerous now, too,” Holly said with a weak smile.  “They think I’m batty.”

“They’re right.” Jack sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes.  The effort it took, just to get a couple words out...

“I know, but... they think I’m mad.” Holly shook her head slowly from side to side, eyes going from one manacle to the other.  She continued as if to herself.  “What they don’t realize... is that putting me in chains won’t help that.”

In vain Jack tried to suppress a shudder.  Chains.  Too familiar.  Burning chains.

“What... what happened?” Jack whispered.  He opened his eyes to see Holly’s gaze dart to him, the huge green irises shining in the semidarkness. 

“Hermes,” she said.  “Hermes... and the Agency and the Prophetic Board... they cursed you.”

Jack stilled.  Cursed?  By Hermes?  No.

“When... when we were captured...” Holly’s words came slowly, and her eyebrows slanted down; speaking wasn’t coming easily to her.  “At the temple... they put a mark on you.  You’re going to have nightmares, Jack.  Every night.  They thought you were dangerous too.”

Jack remembered the soldiers’ ghosts.  Pain raked its claws down his body, and he bit his lip to keep from groaning aloud. 

“I... am... dangerous,” he gasped out, clasping the blankets between his fists.  “They... they were right...”

“They were right about everything, Jack.” Holly sounded like she was in a trance.  “About everything except taking our minds away.  They’ll pay for it, won’t they?”

All Jack could do was nod weakly, spasms of pain shooting down his spine.  He closed his eyes. 

He heard scraping sounds, like something heavy being dragged over the floor.  A moment later, small, slender fingers slid into his, holding on for dear life.

Jack swallowed the tears that pricked behind his eyelids and gripped Holly’s hand.  Then the room swirled away as he slid into a dark, untroubled sleep.

Frostbitten - Chapter Seventeen

He had left them again.

Hermes sprawled out on his hotel bed, staring up at the white ceiling.  White, like snow.  Jack.  Oh, Jack...

Why did he always end up leaving him?  His apprentice, practically his son in all but blood.  He had raised Jack from Legendary, if not literal, infancy.  Tried to change him.  And it had seemed like it worked... for a while.

Zeus was right, Hermes thought.  Even a reformed thief should never try to raise a child. 

Much less an immortal child with a conscience the size of a marble.

Hermes thought about going back to the hospital, but Holly would probably rip his throat out.  If she didn’t, that other woman – Bianca – would.  And even if he survived the two banshees, Jack wouldn’t want to see him.

Sighing, Hermes rolled over onto his side.  I don’t blame you, Jack.  I really don’t blame you.

He closed his eyes.  A split second later, the hotel window exploded inward.

Frostbitten - Chapter Sixteen

Holly sank onto the bed, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.  What had she just done?

“Holly.” Bianca’s voice was soft.  “What happened to Jack, in prison?”

“I don’t – you think I want to tell you?” Holly raised her head, blinking back furious tears.  Those endless, countless years in Styx all flooded back in knife-edged fragments, stinging her almost physically.  “I wasn’t even in Tartarus.  Jack was.  He didn’t leave that cell for a thousand years.  A thousand.  It burned, it burned, it burned, like the sun shrunken to a room, melting everything it touched, including sanity...” A hysterical little giggle bubbled up out of her throat.  “Jack and I didn’t come quite right to this here town, and that cell didn’t help, no sir, it did not.  Not the princessly heater in Styx or his royal quarters in Tartarus, they ain’t all they’s cracked up to be, especially when you’re cursed to be even more loony-tunes than you were already once you gets out!”

She cackled again, then felt sharp fingers biting into her forearms.  “Holly!” Bianca hissed into her face.  “Snap out of it!”

A hot wash coated Holly’s skin in ash.  She screamed and dove onto the floor.  “It’s raining fire!” she wailed, every little ash burning a dark mark onto her flesh.  “Jack, make it stop!  Jack, I need you, get out of that volcano, it’s burning, make it stop...”

She huddled on the floor, sobbing in pain.  The freakish white volcano twisted high, higher than before, wrapping Jack’s still form in sheets of pale lava.  It sizzled, and smoke choked the air as far as Holly could see.  She sucked in a breath, coughed, pounded the floor.  She had to get out...

“Deserve every second of it...” a voice came from the smog, driving like a nail through Holly’s senses.  “But I suppose he wouldn’t be very happy if you died...”

Holly smacked the floor with her bleeding palm, half of the skin burned off from the fire all around her.  Some of the lava wrapped around her head and neck, and she slumped to the ground.

Frostbitten - Chapter Fifteen

“I may go home now, Holly,” Jack’s former mentor said.  “I feel very injured.”

Holly latched onto both of his arms.  “Why are you here all of a sudden?”

He opened his mouth, but Holly overrode him.  “Never mind.  Jack needs you.  There’s something wrong with him.”

“I know, but—“

“Just shut up until we get there, okay?” Holly dragged him to the stairs.  “He passed out screaming about midnight—“

“Holly—“

“—and then he’s been in this coma thing the rest of the time.”

“Holly, I—“

“None of the quacks in this place can do anything for him, but I think you can.”

“Holly, I know I can’t!” Hermes burst out. 

Holly spun to face him, stopping right outside Jack’s hospital room.  “What?”

Hermes closed his eyes.  “I know what’s wrong with him.”

Holly stared.  “...You do?  Why... why didn’t you... stop us or come with us or at least tell us?  Jack’s half-dead in there!”

“I’m sorry!” Hermes clenched his fists, a pained expression flashing over his face.  “I’m an idiot, all right?  I’ll hate myself for the rest of my life, I’m sure.  And seeing as how I’m immortal, that’ll be a while.” He paused, opening his eyes.  “Will you hear me out now?”

Holly seethed, but tried to keep the anger inside.  “Speak.”

Hermes nodded to the door.  “Is that his?” he asked more quietly. 

“Yeah.” She pushed it open and padded a step inside.  Bianca was still there, sitting on the edge of the bed.  One hand lay across Jack’s chest.  Holly stiffened and halted where she was.

“You can’t trust her, Jack,” the pixie was whispering.  “She’s... she’s out for your soul.   I know she did this to you.  You have to stop trusting her.  She doesn’t really love you.  I’m the one that loves you, Jack.  Why can’t you see...”

Holly felt her eyes widen. 

“Holly?” Hermes said, nudging her arm.

Bianca was up in a flash, staring at them, her cheeks red.  A line of dampness sparkled down the side of her face, and she swatted at it.  “What are you doing?” she hissed at Holly.

Holly tried to get rid of the tenseness in her shoulders, but it was futile.  “I’m out for his soul?” she repeated, moving closer.  “You lying—“

“Dragging him into wars!” Bianca shouted, voice cracking.  “He was fine before you came back from the Metalworker!”

Holly flinched away, feeling the words like the flaming whip across her face.  “It wasn’t my fault,” she tried to say, but the words caught in her throat; they came out like a frog’s croak.

Hermes stepped between them.  “You’re disturbing Jack’s dreams,” he said firmly.  “So shut up, the two of you.” He turned to Bianca.  “I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are, but it’s the truth.” With that he moved closer to the hospital bed, where Jack clung to the mattress as if it were a safety ring.

Holly stared at the three of them, one at a time.  Then she scampered to Hermes’s side.

“Who is this?” Bianca asked stuffily, standing back.

“Hermes,” Holly said.  The immortal in question sat by Jack and took his pulse.

Bianca huffed.  “I know that.  What I don’t know is why he’s here.”

“I dunno.” Holly focused on Hermes’s rather pessimistic expression.  “He just said he knows what’s wrong with Jack.”

“How?” The question was now directed at Hermes.

Hermes sighed, let Jack’s wrist drop, and turned to face Bianca.  “As you know, Jack and Miss Holly here were arrested by the Agency a thousand years ago, for—“

“Mass murder,” Bianca said.  

Holly stiffened.

Hermes cut his eyes to Holly, then back at Jack.  “Right.  Well, the reason Jack hadn’t been caught earlier is because he was extremely... extremely...”

“Slippery,” Holly supplied. 

“Slippery.  We got him in an ambush at a temple in Stonne.  Apollo and Isis – the so-called deities of prophecy and magic, respectively – caught him.  He thought he’d get away.  But we...” He paused, licking his lips and not meeting either of the women’s eyes.  “The Agency and the Prophetic Board had agreed earlier to put a mark on him.”

Bianca’s eyebrows met.  “A mark?”

Holly swallowed.  “Why do I think that that’s not as tame as it sounds?”

Hermes gripped the edge of Jack’s bed.  “It was a curse, all right?” he said, leaning forward.  “It was a curse.  I was in on that decision.  I agreed that we had to put the... the mark on Jack.  It would make the memories of his wars come back, the soldiers.  Make his mind conjure up fake memories of soldiers that he had killed.  Nightmares, for all intents and purposes.”

Holly felt a warm shiver run through her body.  “You... you cursed him?” she whispered.

“It was our only way out, Holly,” Hermes said, finally meeting her gaze.  “He was out of control.  He had half of Sector Country killed.”

“That was her fault, not his,” Bianca said, snapping a finger in Holly’s direction.

Holly jumped up.  “It was not!  You’re a slandering—“

“Ladies,” Hermes said, waving his hands.  “This is not the time or place.”

“Right,” Holly said, sarcasm dripping from her voice.  “Because Jack’s in a curse-induced coma enduring visions of dead soldiers!”

“I’m sorry.” Hermes looked at the wall.  “But he was asking for it.”

“Asking to wake up screaming one random day?”

“It was scheduled to start in one thousand years,” Hermes said.  “We thought that would be when he got out of prison.”

“And you were right.” Holly almost stamped her foot.  “But did you ever think about the fact that maybe prison was enough?  Jack’s not even sane anymore, Hermes!  He acts normal, but I see it in his eyes – he’s not all here.  You know how I know that, Hermes?  You know?  Because I’m not sane either.  I’m as crazy as the Mad Hatter!” She grabbed his shoulders and gave him a shake.  “You took away both our minds.  Maybe it was the Agency and the Prophetic Board’s decision, but you were our ally.  You let them take our sanity away.”

Hermes stared at her, crystal blue eyes wide and expressionless.  Then he stood, pried her fingers from his tunic sleeves, and went to the door.

“He should wake up about midnight,” he said over his shoulder.  “Contact me about his condition.” And he left.