Nine Crimes

[Jack Trove]

ooc: Yeah. I decided, 'A Deputy's Duty', was actually in the Assembly Hall for ease xD.

Jack let out a low moan, massaging his temple between his right index finger and thumb.
Tomorrow was his 18th birthday.
And he’d never looked forward to a birthday less in his life.
No party had been planned. Which was strange, because every year up until now, Jack had had one of the biggest parties in all Orchid history- each just that bit bigger, that bit wilder than the last. Everyone came because after all, he was the rugby captain. And again, despite his dubious reputation- the one which had been steadily building around him ever since his detachment from Olivia late last school year- Jack still did get on well with people. It came to him naturally. He was known- he was generally liked- and one of the things people probably liked best about him was his ability to throw some of the biggest bashes of the year.
Jack’s 18th had been hotly anticipated by all- marked out on many a calendar as the night many planned to get drunk; get lucky; get laughing and get high on some substance or another. Jack had once promised his rugby team that his last birthday at Orchid- and his last party- would be the best.
Well. This was some birthday.
The Battle of Blueberg- yes, it had gotten so big it’d earned itself a bloody title- had thrown all normality out of Orchid. Previous battles had been bad- but this one seemed… worse, somehow. Some horrible concoction of hell, blood and fire. And Jack did blame himself, in a lot of ways.
The man with hell in his eyes was dead.
That didn’t matter, though. So, what? There would be more commanders. That wasn’t the point. That guy had paid for kidnapping Madeleine- but they hadn’t gotten her back.
A destitute sort of feeling had settled over the school. Everyone felt cráp, because, well, they didn’t have much else to feel. They’d lost. Jack’s first battle in charge and he’d lost.
Or if not lost… augh, it was weird. They hadn’t been defeated- but they sure hadn’t succeeded, either.
Mal was wrong. Jack would’ve made a terrible Head.
But Madeleine- Madeleine was incredible. If Madeleine were here, she’d know what to do- how to pick up morale- how to-
What was he saying? Madeleine was the Warrior’s morale! Jesus…
To try and shake off the feeling of uselessness, Jack had been drawn to BlueBerg Forest. A couple of times, he had ended up in the Hospital Wing with Jude visiting Kira, but he knew it wasn’t a good idea to linger because Olivia might be there- okay, no, would be there. He felt bad though, because really, he did need to talk to her. Soon. To explain… everything. Though Jack himself had barely wrapped his head around it.
He also felt bad because, aside from their talk in the forest several days ago, he hadn’t seen a lot of Will. Never before in his life had he had so much respect for the Carers. Never again would be make another ‘male Carer means gay’ crack.
… okay, no, he couldn’t keep that particular promise. But he’d make less jokes.
Jack had been mainly dedicating his time to volunteering in the forest. It was better than being forced into the Hospital Wing, like some people were, such as Tameron Dorrian, because the Carers were so over-worked. Jack had ended up spending a lot of time with Jude, because Jude seemed to have a soothing sort of influence on everything within ten metres of him.
And spending time with Jude was a hell of a lot more fun than spending time with Lee, who spat acid on everyone within ten metres of him.
Not good.
Jack could at least say something had come out of this battle- mere days ago, Jack had met someone he’d always dreamed of meeting- none other than James Bradley, ex-Head of the Orchid Warriors back in 2000-2003. Jack remembered hearing stories from Mal about him all the time when they were kids- incredible stories of stunning victories and sparkling parties and all sorts of truly amazing feats. These were the days when Orchid Hill was a romantic dream to Jack- a buzzing, magical world full of promises of exciting things and wonder.
James Bradley was to a young Jack Trove what Superman was to the average 10 year old.
So meeting him for real was just a little bit awesome in the absolute extreme.
Today had been a slower one. Jack had had no luck finding Jude- who was proving himself to be quite elusive, as one Tameron Dorrian had complained about Jude’s absence to him enthusiastically the whole way through breakfast. So low had his emotions been at the prospect of Warrior Training with a bunch of demoralised zombies that afternoon, it had taken Jack a while before it actually sank in what date it was- and the significance of the date it would be tomorrow.
Now it was evening. Training had been as bad as he’d expected. He’d tried for a while to get them motivated (“C’mon, guys, let’s make Madeleine proud!”) but after several swings and misses, he’d given up, and let them all go early. A defeated group had left the Training Room, and a defeated Deputy Head had decided to go for a long jog to blow off some steam.
Bad mistake.
Jogging just brought back everything that had gone wrong. All because Madeleine and himself had gone for a dámn jog. Why hadn’t he suggested they go to the gym- or, hell, gone to the Knight Pub, gotten Lee drunk for a laugh?
So- if possible- feeling worse than he had when he’d left the school, Jack returned to empty corridors, and the soft sound of sobbing on staircases. His feet- apparently determined to torture him- took on a will of their own, and in some sort of crazy nostalgic fit, Jack ended up in the Assembly Hall.
It felt odd, standing on the stage again, surveying the room as he had done just a few days ago.
A lifetime ago.
Before the battle.
He remembered the spotlight. He remembered the sea of faces before him, and the way the crowd had groaned and moved as one. He remembered his sickness- his shame at losing Madeleine. The shame that he still felt- the shame that throbbed at the back of his mind like a constant drumbeat.
And over there- right over there as he’d hopped off the stage, thanks to some godforsaken love spell and one heck of a lot of pressure- he’d dumped his longest-term girlfriend ever.
In the space of about five seconds flat.
Yeah. Jack had a lot to feel bad about.
He moaned again, sinking down and sitting on the edge of the stage. God, he wished his head would stop hurting.

[Olivia Skye]

“Olivia, you need to get out of here.”
She’d lifted her head from the yellow PRFs she was labouring over, to find a concerned Nurse Gornray gazing at her.
“Do you need me with a patient?” she’d asked, struggling with her desire to just stab a pen through these forms and be done with them.
“No, I need you to get out of my wing.”
Olivia had frowned, left in confusion. “Did I do something wrong, Nurse Gornray?”
The woman’s face had soften even more, and she sank down in the chair in front of Olivia’s desk, eyes gentle and mouth sympathetic. “No, Olivia, not at all, but you’ve barely left this wing since Blueberg.”
She’d had to swallow. “I’m needed here.”
“You were, but it’s calmed down enough for you to leave. Honestly, Olivia, when was the last time you saw any of your friends?”
“Two min-”
“Outside the wing.”
She hadn’t been able to answer that, because she hadn’t left the wing. Nurse Gornray was right; Olivia had been holing herself up in here, signing up for every available hour she could work, and staying behind even when she wasn’t signed up. She didn’t want to leave.
“It’s not good for you to be spending so much time in this place,” she’d added, stern edge to her voice.
“ I like being here.”
And she did like being here. Olivia liked being able to help people, to heal people. In the carnage of the battle, this was a place of sanctuary where people could get fixed – and she could be the fixer. Olivia had the power to heal them, and she should use it at every opportunity.
Shouldn’t she?
But it was like living under a cloud of despair. People were dying all around her, and Olivia was selfish enough to be upset and left hiding over Jack sodding Tro-
“I know you do.” Nurse Gornray’s voice broke through that thought. “But it’s not healthy.”
“I want to help,” she’d said, picking up the black pen and beginning to write down Katrina Holmes’ medical history.
“Olivia.”
Keep writing.
“You need to get out.”
“I’m fine.” Just keep writing.
“What are you hiding from?”
It was unintentional; but the pen had slipped out from her hand as it trembled. “I’m not hiding from anything, Nurse Gornray.”
“Well, there’s a reason why you’re here, and you need to face up to whatever it is. If it’s worrying that the place won’t be able to cope without you, I think we’ll survive. You need a break.”
“So do you.”
“I get breaks,” she’d reminded her softly, bringing back to Olivia’s mind the new presence of Angel Smith, the new Sister and ex-Head Carer.
Olivia had sighed, bringing her hand to her forehead as it began to throb. “I’d really rather stay here, Nurse Gornray.”
“And I’m ordering you to leave. Go and get a break, do something fun. Go before I call Will to order you.”
And that was that. The safe bubble of the Hospital Wing that she’d surrounded herself with since the battle had been popped, and she didn’t know what to do now. She’d wanted to help, she’d enjoyed helping…
Well, in the end, was that really true? It had been horrible seeing all those people, all the tragedy. It had been horrible watching deaths. It had been horrible knowing that there were more to come, and it had been horrible knowing that that could be happening to Madeleine.
But in a way, it was even worse being outside of the hospital. In the wing, everybody was focused on a recovery – whether it was theirs, a friend’s, a sibling’s, a cousin’s, a patient’s. There was something to hope for, and even with the death-tainted atmosphere covering the wing, there was hope everywhere. Miracles could happen in those rooms. Olivia could make miracles happen there. But out here…
She could see it as she walked through the corridors. It was in the ducked heads of the students, their eyes cast downwards to the floor, determined not to meet anyone’s gaze for fear that they’d see the expression in their eyes. It was in the rounded slump of their shoulders, the sluggish shuffle of their feet.
It was an effort to keep her own posture upright, for the same reasons as the others, and the fact that for the past few weeks, Olivia had barely slept at all – whether she was in her own bed, or sleeping in the on-call room as a lot of them had done during the days following the Battle of Blueberg. The lack of sleep could also account for the headache that had stayed steady throughout the past couple of days, leaving Olivia popping paracetamol like candy, a fact that had luckily evaded Nurse Gornray’s and Sister Smith’s notice, or Olivia would have been thrown out of the hospital days ago. At first, the soft and gentle manner of the fabled ex-Carer had seemed like someone very relaxed and easy-going, but as soon as she had set foot in the hospital wing, she became formidable, quickly earning the respect of even the laziest of Carers. With her battlefield experience, it was clearly evident that this woman was the best person they could possibly have on the ward, and she’d played an integral part of the battle recovery, without ever seeming fazed, without ever losing patience, without ever seeming tired, even though she’d been staying in the ward even more than Olivia had.
Her feet gently padded along the stone corridor, as she pondered where to go, now that she no longer had the dubious haven to stay in. The common room was ruled out, and to get to her dorm, she’d have to walk through the common room, so that wasn’t happening either.
Nurse Gornray was right. There was a reason why Olivia was now living in the hospital wing which had nothing to do with altruism, and more to do with avoidance. It was the same reason that had her swiftly stepping behind doors when Jack Trove came into the room.
She still hadn’t forgiven him. Oh, she knew just how selfish it was to hug this hurt close to her chest, how childish it was when everyone around her was dealing with far worse hurt – and even she knew some of it. But in a way, Olivia knew that she’d rather focus on being upset at Jack’s treatment of her than focus on her worry for Madeleine. And God knew, she was upset.
Yes, she and Jack had slowly been detaching themselves from each other, to the point where it barely felt like they were together. And yes, she’d had some idea for a long time that there had been someone else, and yes, Olivia had looked to move on. But the fact remained that they were together, and to be left just as they headed into battle with only a sentence: “It’s over, there’s someone else” was something that Olivia was finding it hard to forgive.
Someone else. It had taken about all of five minutes after she’d returned from the battle to find out who that someone else was, the late Sophie Mathieu. But, at that minute in time, Olivia hadn’t wanted to think about that, she’d been focused on the blood gushing out of a patient, and later, once everything had calmed a little, the vomit coming out of her own mouth once she’d seen the state of Jack once he’d returned. The blood and the bruises, the fact that he’d literally been beaten to a pulp…
The fact that she’d seen Reuben on the field hadn’t helped either, but in the end, that didn’t matter. It had only been one date, one kiss, and Olivia was not about to tear herself up over that when it turned out that he was a member of the forces – and of course, later on, she’d discovered that he was acting commander of a cell, the one who had stolen Madeleine and beaten Jack black and blue.
No, Olivia was not going to waste her time on worrying about that, even if she didn’t know what had happened to him.
But Jack… it was just the shock and injustice of it, if she was honest. It had hurt, an awful lot, and Olivia hated it that mixed in with her hurt and her feelings for him, she was feeling pride for him in how he’d handled the battle. She hated that, she hated it, and a little bit of her hated him. She should be able to focus on making people better and have someone to support her there outside the wing. Before, she’d had Jack. And with a snap of a finger, she didn’t.
And she hated that she missed him.
But even missing him wasn’t allowing her to be anywhere near him. She didn’t want to face him, because she knew that it would only result in tears. So she’d been avoiding him, which was part of why she’d been spending so much time in the hospital wing.
And why, instead of using her break to relax in the common room, she was heading towards the assembly hall, the only place where she could get peace.
However, as she pushed open the heavy door to the hall, one hand still touching her sore forehead, the memories of the last time she had been in here came flooding back, combined with all the fear she had felt then for her missing friend. Her eyes were closed as she tried to block out the mental images that rose to the cinema screen of her eyelids, but in the end, what good would it do? She’d have to face the facts anyway.
And those facts hit her like a slap in the face as she opened her eyes to find Jack sitting on the stage.

[Jack Trove]

The sound of kitten heels had been so long pattering around the corners of his mind, finally hearing them for real took a few moments before he recognised that these heels weren’t inside his head, but outside.
He jumped off the stage and to his feet in a combination of surprise and courtesy. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling that he felt now brewing in the pit of his stomach. No, it wasn’t unpleasant…
It was almost relief.
Seeing Olivia Skye for the first time since the spell of Sophie Mathieu had been lifted from his eyes seemed to bring his ex into sharper focus. Again, Jack noted her hair- one of the things that had attracted him to her in the first place- somehow still managing to glow brightly at him under the dim lights of the Assembly Hall. He’d always noticed her hair, he remembered, even when he was under hypnosis… or… whatever it was. Sophie’s spell had explained so much… where his mixed feelings had come from about the two girls- why both could look so good at once- and why Sophie had reminded him of Olivia…
Because… he guessed, Sophie was trying to become Olivia.
To become his Olivia.
But she wasn’t his anymore, huh?
She looked tired. A little sick. Much paler than her usual glowing flush. As a Carer, he dimly realised, she must’ve been spending a lot of time in the Hospital Wing. Too much time, from the looks of things. When had she last slept- eaten, even? Because she looked thinner, too. It had only been a few days since he last saw her… sure, a lot had happened but… could someone get thinner in such a short space of time?
And the worry… the fear… Madeleine meant different things to both Olivia and Jack, but whatever the case, she still meant a lot.
No news was good news.
No news was good news.
Didn’t matter how many times he told himself that.
Didn’t seem to make him feel any better- or make any difference.
Nor, he guessed, would it make any difference to him- or anybody. Seeing Olivia standing before him now brought out a strange feeling in Jack, one he wasn’t used to feeling.
Protectiveness.
How strange. He’d never felt… that protective before. But suddenly, seeing her that, weak- so weak it seemed she was about to blow away like the wisp of a flame- made him want to do something. Say something to bolster her strength and bring her back.
But Jack wasn’t Jude.
The best he could come up was this-
“Hi, Olivia,” he half-smiled, feeling the awkwardness of this meeting rigidify his expression. “Er… how are you?”

[Olivia Skye]

For a moment, after she’d walked through the door, she’d thought that Jack wouldn’t notice her and that she could slip out, but that hope was dashed in a quick nanosecond by the most innocent of questions as he stood up in a vague, gentlemanly gesture.
“Hi, Olivia. Er… how are you?”
There was a slight pause before Olivia answered that, as the colour was drawn from her face by his simple words, and as she considered him for a moment.
Jack looked exhausted. It was strange, because in all the time they had been dating, she had never once seen him anything less than wide awake. Never even tired – and never without the roguish enthusiasm he had for everything, rarely without the sparkle in his eyes. Olivia was used to the young, boyish, vivacious attitude of the brave and heroic soldier. She’d never seen him like this.
There was no enthusiasm on his face now. For the first time, Jack didn’t look different from the rest of the students. It was the first time Olivia had ever seen him look exactly the same as the other pupils, from everything from that defeated slump taken on by his shoulders to the shattered, slightly lost expression laying claim to his face, and it caused an uncomfortable twist in her stomach to see it in him.
He looked much better than when she’d seen him last, though. Most of the battle injuries had healed and faded, and the very fact that he was able to jump up like that showed that he’d recovered well from the mess he’d been in after the battle. It caused Olivia to flinch slightly as she remembered seeing him, covered in blood and bruises and smoke, and how badly she’d reacted to seeing him like that – knowing that after the events of before the battle, he should have been nothing more than another patient to her.
That was the problem though. Jack was supposed to fade into the background for her, become one of many of the student background to her, but that wasn’t happening, and Olivia was being affected by him far more than she wanted to.
Jack’s expression had hardened slightly as he’d said the words, and Olivia knew that as her colour drained, her face was probably taking on the same expression. She smoothed down her skirt in an atypically nervous gesture, miles away from her usual confidence – matching her smile, far less bright and confident than it had ever been.
“I’m fine, Jack,” she said, soft as a whisper. “How… how are you?”

[Jack Trove]

How was he?
Well...
He was a lot of things at the moment. Anyway- Olivia already knew how he felt, because he could tell from her face that she felt exactly the same. The 'defeated' feeling was universal; hovering around every corner, waiting to pounce on you. Just when you thought you'd shaken it off, there it was again. Staring up at you from a first-year's over-flowing eyes. Just when you've begun to relax again, you were shocked to your senses by a blood-soaked Carer running past.
It was all the same.
Everywhere was the same.
"I'm fine, Olivia," he echoed her. "Just fine."
Liars.
Felt strange, saying her name aloud. Sometimes, when he thought a word too many times, over and over, it felt unnatural to voice it aloud. Like it shouldn't be said. It was a word meant to be whispered by your thoughts and your heart- not made crude by his rough voice.
And his voice was really too loud, too harsh, too hard to say her name and do it justice.
Olivia.
It suited her. He'd always thought it had.
"Er... would you like to sit?" he gestured vaguely behind him at the stage. It felt a pretty stupid question to ask.
... okay, that was because it was.
Jack could guarantee Olivia didn't want to be anywhere near him right now.

[Olivia Skye]

Would she like to sit?
If Olivia couldn't see Jack's face right now, she would assume that he was playing some kind of cruel joke on her. Of course she wouldn't like to sit with him. After everything that had happened recently, Olivia could think of few things that would be more likely to reduce her to tears than sitting beside Jack Trove.
And, quite frankly, Olivia didn't really want to burst into tears in front of him - it would feel too much like humiliation. In fact, scratch that - it would be humiliating, and Olivia was not about to let herself feel any smaller than she already did right now.
She was already only two inches tall.
And she hated that. God, she hated it so much.
She shouldn't feel like this.
She had never felt like this before. Confidence and grace had always seemed like some innate quality, something that had never been challenged. Jack had encouraged it; while she was dating him, it had blossomed, and grown into a more mature, subtle confidence, but now... now she wasn't even back at square one. She was in the negative places.
And the boy who had crushed it all, sitting before her, was still waiting for an answer.
Olivia diverted her eyes from his tired, familiar face, and pulled her knitted cardigan tighter around her body, in another unusual movement. Even the fact that she was wearing a cardigan at all was atypical, especially one loose enough to hug close to herself. In the wake of the battle, Olivia had felt too depressed to dress in her usual confident way. Though, that was counterproductive, as to be expected: the girl Jack had left her for, Sophie - would you see Sophie wearing a loose knitted cardigan, or looking so pale and tired?
But Olivia knew she shouldn't be thinking like this. After all, Sophie was dead. Olivia shouldn't resent Sophie. Let the dead bury their dead.
"I don't know if that's the best idea, Jack."
The best idea would be for her to leave... but her kitten heels were glued to the floor.

[Jack Trove]

Well… he could probably have predicted that answer.
Like Olivia, Jack too found himself averting his eyes to the panelled Assembly Hall floor. His weight shifted awkwardly from his left foot to his right.
“Yeah,” the word dragged as it fell from his lips, “yeah. You’re probably right.”
Still.
Still…
Some part of him had wanted her to say yes, that she would sit with him. But if she’d sat, it only would’ve brought on the inevitable conversation that both knew the other didn’t want to have. The one that involved Sophie, and the question why of all the times he could have chosen to break up with Olivia, he broke up with her just before they both marched into battle.
Yeah. Jack definitely didn’t want to have that conversation.
Even though he knew he sort of had to.
He sort of… owed her.
He owed her a lot.
What would be ideal- Jack thought- would be the chance to sit with Olivia now and just sit and nothing more. No talking, or anything. Just… to sit side by side and watch the sun move across the Assembly Hall floor and disappear. And he could watch it as the light traced the flame-red threads of her hair and her tired, still features.
And then it would be his birthday.
Happy Birthday, Jack.
Olivia had been part of his plan- because Jack had had his eighteenth plan long before he was even seventeen- and she was to be his guest of honour. It seemed strange, to think back and realise he’d thought that far ahead. After all, Jack wasn’t exactly famed for his long-lasting relationships. He wondered why his sixteen year old self had thought to include her so far into his future.
Maybe he really had thought they were going somewhere good.
It was ironic, if you liked to think about that sort of thing.

[Olivia Skye]

Her eyes flicked upwards to try to catch his, but just like she had been, he was staring at the wooden floor of the hall.
The thing was… Olivia wanted to sit with him. She wanted to sit beside him, but that would mean that they’d have to talk about this, to talk things through, and Olivia wasn’t sure that she could hear it all without dissolving into tears.
The last thing she wanted to do was to cry in front of him. Olivia had cried before him only once, and that hadn’t turned out exactly well.
The problem was, the tears came much too easily, especially right now. Every time Olivia had left the hospital ward, even if it was only to the staff room, they’d been flowing.
So the best thing for Olivia to do right now was to leave the room before they could start again, and preferably without speaking so that her voice wouldn’t get the chance to become thick with them.
But she didn’t want to leave without saying nothing.
In fact, she didn’t want to leave at all. What she really wanted was to be here, and to sit beside Jack and lean against him – when they’d announced the battle, she had thought that if they both lived, he’d be there for her to lean on after this, because it was going to be a massacre. Things had turned out the opposite way. Olivia couldn’t cry her tears to him, and he couldn’t have his battle wounds healed and soothed by her, the way she’d thought it would be.
She should probably go, now.
But she hesitated, before wetting her lips and parting them. “Jack…”
She didn’t keep her eyes off the floor long enough to see if he’d raise his.
“I … I was sorry to hear about your loss.”
And that right there came under the category of just what she didn’t want to say. She would have preferred not to acknowledge it, but that would have been… just… it would have been cruel. Jack’s “someone else” had died, and he had to have cared about her. In a way, she hoped that he cared about her a lot – it would mean that she hadn’t been thrown away for a mere whim, but on the other hand, she couldn’t really bear to think about it.
And that what was making her voice grow thick with unshed tears, and catch on the words.
So she swallowed, and turned on her heel to leave.

[Jack Trove]

“I… I was sorry to hear about your loss.”
“What loss?”
The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.
This would be one of those times when Jack Trove realised just how stupid he really was. Or at least- as stupid he could be.
“What loss?”
His bloody loss. Sophie. Sophie Mathieu. The girl who’d put him under a spell. But of course, nobody knew that. Hoodham had never stressed to Jack that he had to keep it a secret… but it wasn’t something Jack particularly wanted to reveal to the rest of the Orchid Hill population. After all, Jack hadn’t been the only guy affected by Sophie and he wasn’t sure how… well it would be taken by the majority of some of them.
Besides.
It made Jack ashamed.
It made him embarrassed.
And it made him sad to think about what Sophie had done to him- but worse, what she had done to the beautiful girl before him. Jack hadn’t suffered by Sophie- she meant as much to him as any other random stranger might. He was lucky, in a sense, because he didn’t continue on any feelings of hurt or pain or loss because the truth was, Jack had never loved Sophie. He’d never even liked her.
But Olivia…
Because of Sophie, Jack had made Olivia suffer. And this was why he owed her.
Jack mayn’t want it to become public knowledge, but the truth was, Olivia deserved to know what had really been going on, because God knows what she was thinking or how she was feeling right now. He owed her the talk neither wanted to have.
Might as well have it now.
Realising that he’d probably just confused her, Jack shook himself slightly and said quickly, “Sorry. I was confused, there. You meant Sophie... right?”

[Olivia Skye]

“What loss?”
What?!
Olivia spun round at that, a look of blank horror on her face.
What loss? What loss?
She hadn’t thought that it was possible for Jack to say anything that could make her angrier or more upset at him than she already was.
What loss?
Sophie, his someone else – the someone else important enough to Jack for him to have left his girlfriend of over a year with barely a sentence – had died. She’d died, she’d been killed in battle and it was as if Jack couldn’t even remember her.
Even up until now, Olivia had still carried the same image of Jack in her head that had been there at the start of their relationship – Jack was one of those guys who could be the hero of the story. Not Prince Charming, but something close. The war hero, the attractive man – and the decent guy. Sure he made mistakes, but his heart was in the right place because he was decent. There were lots of ideas she’d had to let go of. She’d never thought Jack Trove could bruise her heart, but she’d gotten too close to him and that was what he did. She’d never thought Jack Trove would leave her before a battle, but he did – and as upset as she was about the timing, at least he’d been honest.
But she’d never, ever thought that Jack Trove would be the kind of guy to do something like that, and the fact that he had…
She felt sick.
“Sorry. I was confused there… you meant Sophie, right?”
Olivia’s hands flew to her face and pressed themselves to her mouth as she took a deep breath of the stale air in the room before she moved them down and letting them clasp agitatedly under her chin. “Yes, Jack,” she said, anger taking the nervous softness from her voice and hardening her words into ice. “I meant Sophie. The someone else. Who else could I mean?”
This was... this was disgusting. Olivia had never really liked Sophie, true, but there was something about that... something that just cheapened her. Like she didn't matter enough for Jack to remember that she'd been killed. It made her cheap and it made her worthless to him, and it...
It made Olivia worthless, too. She hated herself for thinking it, but it did, it really did. He'd left her for someone who wasn't important enough for him to care if she lived or died.
And what did that make her?

[Jack Trove]

Jack closed his eyes; visibly flinching back from the jagged cut of Olivia’s words. The ‘someone else’. That’s how he’d referred to Sophie, wasn’t it? Those were his words; not Olivia’s. He almost would have preferred to have heard her words. Hearing his own crudely put phrase in her own hurt voice was… there was just something wrong about it. The words stung; they hung in mid-air and glared at him accusingly.
It was a spell.
It was a spell, for God’s sake!
Those weren’t his words. Those were magic’s words. Those were Sophie’s own twisted desires and dreams; sinking and seeping like slime through his consciousness and using his mouth to give themselves form…
… so why did he feel so dámn responsible?
“It’s not what you think, Olivia,” he murmured, re-opening his eyes to face the horror- if Jack wasn’t mistaken- the revulsion for his words glistening in her emerald gems. “That is…”
Oh, God.
The talk.
The one neither wanted to have.
The one neither really knew how to begin.
“Sophie Mathieu… her death doesn’t effect me… like you might think… it would.”
Each word; each phrase; each fragment of a sentence felt worse than the last. Each felt more awkward- more cruel and more crude. What Jack wouldn’t give for the gift of eloquence…
“She doesn’t mean anything to me… anymore,” he stopped, frowning at how to explain this. “She never did. Even when I thought… that I loved her… in reality, she meant nothing to me.”

[Olivia Skye]

With each word, the hole that Jack was digging himself into just grew deeper and deeper.
“It’s not what you think, Olivia.”
This was wrong, this was wrong, this was so, so wrong.
And it just. Kept. Getting. Worse.
“Even when I thought… that I loved her…”
She didn’t mean to flinch, but the motion shot involuntarily across her face before she could cover it, and she could only pray that he didn’t notice it.
“In reality, she meant nothing to me.”
A short, racking bark of a laugh came from Olivia’s throat. “Of course she did,” she snapped, shaking her head in disgust.
She couldn’t even look at him anymore; she’d heard enough, and she didn’t care to see the expression on his face, because whatever it was could only sting even more.
So she tilted up her chin defiantly, keeping her eyes carefully averted from his.
“Are you trying to insult me? She meant nothing, and that’s why you whiled away nearly a year with her, isn’t it?” A year that he was supposed to spend with her, not Sophie. “Well, she certainly seemed to mean something before that battle, she seemed to-” Her voice broke on the rough edge of the words serrating her throat, so she dipped her head, and began again in a slightly thicker tone. “But you know your own head and if she’s nothing - well, you spent a lot of time with this nothing, Jack, and now this person who meant nothing is dead. And surely you could show a little more respect to her, and to me, Jack, because if she meant nothing then what did I-”
The question scratched the inside of her mouth, so Olivia stopped, lowering her head, and bring her hands up to chest level, palms forward in a defensive gesture.
She wasn’t going to put that question into words. There was no point, because she knew that she didn’t want to hear the answer – whatever it was, whatever way Jack would phrase it, she didn’t need to hear it, she’d surely cry.
But that wasn’t going to stop her thinking it, as much as she hated it. It was selfish, it was so selfish, but it was still there, hanging thick in the space between her and Jack.
If Sophie Mathieu meant nothing to Jack, then what did Olivia mean to him?

[Jack Trove]

She stopped.
Thank God she stopped.
Jack didn't think he could've taken much more of it. Every time she said something wrong he opened his mouth to try and interrupt and explain- she'd got it wrong, his words failed him. He knew what he wanted to say- that of course she meant something to him... of course she did-
But the words wouldn't come.
How could they when he couldn't even look at her? The sound of her voice was enough to break a man's heart. Jesus, he'd always known Olivia was a heart-breaker. He'd just never thought she'd break his heart like this.
And if that was what her voice sounded like... if that was what Jack and that dámn spell could do to her voice... well, Jack wasn't a brave enough man to look in her face and see the pain he could hear so clearly. He couldn't do it.
But then the voice stopped.
The voice stopped as though choked.
And the silence was almost worse than the voice. Jack didn't know what was worse- hearing the accusations, or feeling them pulsating in the air around him.
What could he say?
And anyway, after everything... would she even believe him?
"Olivia," he started, then stopped.
So, was that his voice? It lacked any sort of power or confidence or comfort. It was weak. Weak and sad.
He tried again. "Olivia, I... I know I spent... a lot of time with her. I spent a lot of time messing you about when I shoulda been.. I shoulda been with you and making the best of what we had. I just... and before the battle- I never meant to say... the real me never wanted to but... it was her."
That didn't come across well at all. He wondered if it sounded like some kinda insult to her- and to the deceased. Perhaps if he was able to stand up and apologise properly and give her a good reason... like... he was madly in love with Sophie or... er... he had gotten her pregnant or- wait, no, that wouldn't sound good.
But whatever he could've chosen... at least... at least it would've sounded like there was a real reason behind how he treated her. Not much of a reason. But at least... at least something to justify his actions.
Jack took a deep breath. There was no good way to say this.
"I was under a spell."

[Olivia Skye]

“I was under a spell.”
A spell.
No, God, no, he couldn’t be saying that.
Right now, the last thing Olivia felt ready to hear were clichés. She'd been prepared for "Maybe we can still be friends", and she'd been prepared for "It's not you, it's me", but never did she think that those words would come from Jack's lips.
And not while the tart taste of salt touched her own
Tears.
No, not tears. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t cry. She’d promised.
But there they were still. Plump little beads of salt water, leaving a soft silver thread across her cheeks.
Stop it. Stop it now.
And another one fell.
Olivia Skye did not cry. Her heart was one that was never meant to be broken – relationships were always meant to be fleeting romances; encounters that felt good, but never ran deep enough to sting. She flitted, like a butterfly, from boy to boy, and these boys were never supposed to hurt her, or leave an impression stronger than a fond memory of lovely days.
Olivia Skye was never supposed to fall in love, in case her heart was broken.
This was why.
It was too much to hope that Jack hadn’t seen the tears. But even so, she wasn’t going to draw attention to them by wiping them away. She’d just let these few fall, and then the rest would stop.
They would stop.
“Of course, Jack.”
Her eyes were wet, but her throat was dry now.
“Of course you were. Her eyes and that – that pretty French accent had you enchanted, did they? Like a fairy spell, of course you were-”
But Olivia’s eyes flashed now, in a sudden stroke of bitterness.
“Do you really think I’m that much of a fool, Jack? You were under a spell?”
That was it. That was it, that was it, that was it. She should leave now, before he had the chance to say anymore, before she started to cry anymore. Any word that would come out of Jack's mouth from now were just going to be more of this, things that were just... they were just insulting now, to everyone involved.
But she wanted an explanation - just something, anything to justify what had just happened.
The worst bit was that Olivia would love to be filled with righteous anger at him, but she knew that she'd been guilty here too. A glimpse of Reuben shot over her eyelids as her stomach twisted, but her head and her heart both knew that there was a difference. There was a huge difference.
But she just... she didn't know, know what to do now.
Maybe she should just head back towards the hospital, now.

[Jack Trove]

No…
The thing he had dreaded the most.
Silver pebbles spattered the floor where Jack’s eyes sat. They hit the ground and spread into dark, damp spots. Each one spread and sprawled, pooling into one another as they did so to glitter up at him.
They were almost pretty.
Her words were now laced with impossibly more pain- impossibly more hurt- completely the opposite of what had been his intention. He hadn’t… he hadn’t really done that, had he?
God, it was funny. They used to bicker all the time. Over stupid things. Sports and- and make-up and he remembered… he remembered that day in the forest. That stupid, stupid day in the forest. Where and when he should’ve… held back and…
His regrets were countless. Everything that had held them apart now seemed so… so trivial; minor blips on the grand scale of things. Because Olivia and Jack had worked. They’d had brilliant, funny, wicked times together and they’d done wicked things together and laughed about them into the early hours of the morning. He remembered waking up with fire burning in his blood at the thought of seeing her at breakfast. He remembered the catsuit… God, that brilliant catsuit. He remembered her short skirts and her eyes sparkling with mischief as they watched his follow her legs. He remembered her method of shutting him up- a kiss, haha, how perfect. He remembered how it felt to hold her hand casually as they walked side-by-side into Cardsdale. He remembered Ellie squealing with excitement as she tried to give him advice on ‘What-To-Say-To-Girls’. He remembered her warmth by the fireside; the way her hair fanned out behind her in the breeze; her competence in the Hospital Wing after he’d carried in Will from the forest…
And Jack remembered all the time they’d wasted. He remembered all the silly things that had pulled them apart.
He remembered… before his brains were completely scrambled by Sophie… he remembered telling her he loved her. He had meant that. For the first time ever, he’d meant that.
And a small, sad part of him knew that everything he had felt for Sophie… every bit of it… had all belonged to Olivia. It was her he’d felt all those wonderful feelings for, not Sophie.
And an even smaller, sadder part of him thought maybe… maybe he should have known better than to believe it was Sophie inducing these feelings in him, not Olivia.
Just tell her, Jack.
“Do you really think I’m that much of a fool, Jack? You were under a spell?”
Her sudden anger caused a horrible pang- but at least, Jack could feel like that was a reaction he deserved. He wasn’t worth the precious stones spilt on the floor between them. Anger was what he deserved. Punishment for being so weak and… being taken in so easily.
“No,” he said softly forcing himself to stare back up into her emerald glare. “You are anything but a fool, Olivia. I’m the fool. I’m the dámn fool here in this whole stupid thing.”
He stopped again, wondering how to continue. Those eyes were so full of pain… it physically bit into Jack, like the searing lash of flames, to face them like this. But he knew he had to.
“I was under a spell. Literally- a spell. I never loved Sophie Mathieu. My feelings were an inducement… of hypnosis.”