CW: suicide

It wishes that it could have manifested longer. As it darts between the rot, it finds itself smiling, at the small taste of life.

Beverly's head hangs off the edge of her bed, her body sprawled out behind her. Her skull is pounding, and her entire body is weak. Perhaps it is from hanging upside-down, perhaps it is from being invaded less than twenty-four hours earlier.

She looks at Adwin upside-down. "I am bored."

"Well, we can go help Alvaro and Mickey clear out the rot," Adwin offers. He cocks his head to the side, so that way he can almost see Beverly properly. She reminds him of a little kid, and he tries not to infantilize her as a grown woman, but sometimes she just makes the tension leave his shoulders like it only does when he is in a classroom.

"Adwin Schmit, you are particularly awful at entertaining," Bev sticks out her tongue, before quickly covering her mouth, stifling a giggle. She wishes that Maverick had not left, because pestering him is always a pleasure. She wishes Flo hadn't left either, but more than that, she wishes that the two of them could be alone.

After all, Flo seems like she could provide the most fun that a woman could have here.

Adwin admires the moment. The gesture seems to transcend time, like them. It occurs to them that he is part of history now. He is the spectacular. Someone should write down all that they have accomplished.

"I would say we ought to go exploring if we had not experienced such a ruthless encounter with that spectre." Beverly sighs. Everyone except Tim has been told to move in pairs when travelling through the forest. "I wish I was not quite so dizzy since my encounter."

Adwin smiles. "Perhaps you ought to flip over."

Beverly does as he instructs, and though some of the pressure is relieved, not all of it is gone. She sticks out her lower lip and sighs. "Adwin, what do you like to do for fun."

"I like to teach people," a smile crosses his face. "Beverly, do you know how to read?"

She shakes her head back and forth. Yet another thing that she is forbidden from doing. Perhaps if they were from a wealthier family, she might be literate. It has never bothered her much because what need does a pirate have to read other than a map?

"Hubert has a few books in English," Adwin suggests. He knows that it is a bad idea to make any sort of plan with her, especially given Maverick's insistence that she needs to be observed carefully, to ensure the effects of the act do not injure her further. Still, staying cooped up all day is just as rotten for the body. "Would you like to go into town and grab one from him?"

It sounds rather dreadful to learn, but Beverly cannot resist a journey. Besides, she might even be able to impress Flo with her ability to read. "That would be fantastic!"

Together, the pair walk out of the cabin and towards the town.

~~~

Clara is already at Hubert's house. As she enters, he picks up the few bottles and books off the ground, shoving them off into one corner.

The house, she decides, could use a woman's touch. She doesn't like to think about cleaning, but she wouldn't mind picking up a few items that he has left around haphazardly: notes written in French on pages, curled up into balls and tossed into the corner, as well as a map with several starred locations.

"Why have you come to me this time, Clara Bennet?" Hubert asks, plopping down on to one of the lounge chairs. He gestures for Clara to sit down opposite her.

She gathers her skirt and does as he suggests. The anger that she initially felt to him, incurred by Maverick's suggestion, has long since stopped boiling. Especially considering the fact that she is face to face with a man with eyes blue like the bay which brought her here.

How could he dare to want to send her home?

"Why do you choose not to become close to us?" Clara says.

Hubert puts his head in his hands, pulling at his thick brown locks. He doesn't look up at Clara; he can't. Hubert doesn't want her to be able to see all the secrets that he has been hiding.

"Hubert," she sighs.

"Call me Mr. Tremblay," he hates formalities, but he can't bear for her name to slip softly out her lips. It makes him want to look at her, and to breathe her in. She feels like life, sometimes.

Others have felt like life before.

Clara flinches. "Okay."

"If I tell you, do you promise to leave me alone?" Hubert asks.

Clara rarely listens to any ultimatum. She nods anyway.

Hubert stands up and moves over to the window. He stares outside. "Like you all, I have travelled back in time."

Clara furrows her brow. "You too are one of the strangers? I thought this is from whence you came?"

"It is," Hubert still won't turn around to look from her. "I come from six months from now. At that time, the rot will have taken over the entire valley, and the illness will have killed half of us. Including someone I love dearly."

Frederique, who still roams this area. Travelling back six months gave Hubert the good sense to cut contact, but the thought of him still stings. Frederique has become, apparently, infatuated with another man, one who is a bit older than they are. Apparently, they sneak out to the woods, to the spot that Hubert and Frederique would have met, if Hubert hadn't decided that he could not bare to see Frederique die of the rot in three weeks.

"I don't want to go back, for I will lose someone I love dearly as well," Clara doesn't elaborate as to if it is Mickey or Hubert, because she isn't quite sure. She wonders if she likes Hubert, or who she imagines him to be. She wonders if she likes Mickey, or how much he loves her.

Neither of them seems perfect, and Clara only knows how to love the flawless.

Hubert finally can't take it. He crosses the room and stands above her. She rises to the occasion, meeting him just below her.

"I am desperately trying not to grow fond of you, Clara Bennet," Hubert admits. "I hope that you can do the same."

~~~

"You were in the war then," Alvaro looks up at Mickey, hoisting the shovel above his head.

Alvaro digs it down into the dirt and then wipes his brow. Initially, they snuck out at mid-morning, before their shift to clear the rot, hoping that the lack of sun would cool them. The morning is chill; frost covers the ground that will melt when the sun rises. At the time, the ground was too hard to dig through.

Now that it is high noon, the ground has heated, as has the air. It is only spring, but it is a gruesome spring.

Mickey has never been one to complain, regardless of the temperature. "Yeah. The second one, specifically."

"You sound like you're from the forties," Alvaro grunts, digging into the dirt. "When's Adwin from?"

"Thirties," Mickey takes the shovel from his hands and begins to dig. It's the third hole they've dug, but so far no luck.

"You know, he can't control the fact that he's German," Alvaro points out.

He collapses on the ground and takes a swig of water from the pouches that Hubert has provided. They have everything Alaque has to offer at their disposal, which is practically nothing.

"I know," Mickey continues to dig, before getting a few feet deep and moving on to the next hole. "He's not as bad as I thought. He helped me out yesterday."

Alvaro shrugs. He's never really had a problem with Adwin, and Flo seems to like him. "Right. Him and Clara."

Mickey is getting tired, (not of thinking about Clara, never of Clara. His exhaustion is entirely physical) but he doesn't dare pass the shovel. His shifts always last longer than Alvaro's because he refuses to look weak, even if for a second.

Finally, he hits something. He drops the shovel and begins to dig with his hands.

Alvaro copies him, moving further and further down. The two uncover the gun.

Before Alvaro can snatch it, Mickey scoops it up. He has a gun, and it still has a bottom half in the chamber. If he wanted to, he could...

No, it's best not to think it. Life is cruel, but he knows what it is like to leave people behind. How much they hurt and anguish. He could never do that to Alvaro, nor Bev nor Clara. Hubert and Adwin, maybe, although it seems Hubert is a little cock-eyed.

Alvaro catches him staring. "Were they different, when you are from?"

Mickey snaps to attention, straightening his spine. He stands up and Alvaro follows. The two of them stand together.

"No," Mickey decides. He hands it off to Alvaro. "You should probably take it."

"As long as Tim doesn't get it, I don't care who has it," Alvaro says, but he reluctantly takes it back. He knows that when they get home, he is going to slit Maverick's mattress and keep it inside, in case anyone goes looking for it. Maverick may not like it, but it's the best option he has.

Mickey wipes his face. He knows from the tension that relaxes on Alvaro's face, that he is thinking of someone. He doesn't dare ask who, because he knows that some secrets must remain quiet.

~~~

"Miss Carey seems to be alright," Maverick wipes his brow, sweltering in the summer heat.

He leans against the back of the cabin, staring out at Flo. It is the first time that he has had a second to himself in a while. He prays that Adwin can watch over Bev with any degree of accuracy.

"Why are you so concerned about her?" he continues, looking over Flo.

Flo plants her hands on her hips. "Is there any reason I must be concerned?"

If it were Alvaro, she would tease him, but Maverick is not Alvaro. He is, perhaps, the most serious man that she has ever had the pleasure of meeting.

"You're quite bold, Miss McWilliams," Maverick points out. "It's an admirable property."

Flo furrows her brow, mostly in surprise. It hadn't seemed to her like Maverick would be the type to compliment her, much less openly. She sees what Alvaro likes in him. "Thank y-"

Flo sneezes, raising her elbow up to cover her mouth. She puts her hands up to her face and tightens, to prevent herself from gasping.

"Hay fever?" Maverick asks.

She shakes her head. No, she does not have allergies. Though muffled, she speaks. "Could it be the Grip?"

Maverick walks up to her, and he puts his hand against her forehead. Flo feels warm, but they are barely in the shade of the forest. Maverick moves a stiff hand on to her shoulder and squeezes. "Perhaps. If it is, go cough on Tim, and then we will decide what to do."

Rather than laugh, she bites her bottom lip and takes a step back from Maverick. From the Spanish Flu, Flo knows exactly how quickly something vile can spread. "Speaking of Tim, are you serious about shunning him forever?"

"If you'd like, we can reconvene in a week and discuss what to do with him," Maverick says. "My concern is that he is going to try to sacrifice someone else to the ocean, however that might occur."

Although he hopes that Flo is calm, all of Maverick's senses are on high alert. He tries to work out the minutia of this disease. Do its symptoms manifest as possession, or does it make possession simpler? Is Flo to die, like Ivy? Would Ivy have died at all?

He needs to discuss it with Adwin.

~~~

Tim stands on the cliffside. It seems much more daunting now, without Ivy here as a blockade between him and the water.

Behind him is the lighthouse. He looks to the top of it. What was the first thing he saw when he came here? He remembers the feeling of drowning in the water, the panic of it all, but he does not remember what he saw.

It was Alvaro. He remembered thinking that the Alvaro was a greaser, in his black leather jacket and his jeans. He hadn't yet noticed that the clothing wasn't in style, nor that all of this was impossible.

Tim takes a step closer. The rocks break underneath him, and he leaps backwards. He wonders what Ivy felt in her last minutes alive. Was it panic? Or release? (It was nothing, for Ivy was already gone by the time Tim pushed her over the edge).

It seems impossible now, that he did such a horrid thing.

Tim leaps over the cliffside. He holds his breath the entire way down and hits the water. With the tide higher, he crashes down into the water, and the agony begins. First, he breaks both of his legs. It's difficult to swim, but he manages to crawl his way to the shore. From there, his body disintegrates, piece by piece, until there is nothing left but his clothes. The process takes an hour, but Tim doesn't move.

Eventually, his clothes wash away.

~~~~~

This chapter is just the right amount of devastating. I love it.

I'll see you all soon.