Chapter Text
Pulling the door open, mid-rant, to find him there, putting a patient to sleep, as if it was normal procedure to perform throat surgery in a carriage, was a shock to the system. She was torn between outrage – What was he thinking? Her parents could be back at any moment! How would they explain this? – and a longing she had not quite grasped the extent of until now.
“Hello. I thought you weren’t supposed to be seeing me?” he asked, with infuriating levity.
“I’m not,” she whispered, looking behind her. The guard who had been following her didn’t seem to have noticed what was going on inside the carriage and was settled at the driver’s seat. She promptly climbed into the carriage, shutting the door behind her so they wouldn’t be seen. For a while, she could only stare at him, too caught up in being near him again. He seemed to be having a similar issue. But they were not alone and the matter at hand soon took precedence in her mind. She recognised the patient she had sent his way, although she struggled to see how that led to this.
“You shouldn’t be in here!” she admonished. He seemed unfazed by her tone and damn him, he was probably enjoying it. He did so love riling her up and she would love it too if a soldier wasn’t at this very moment stationed outside and her mother inside the hospital.
“Well, Sneed wouldn’t let me do it in there. Now, we have a small window of time and I think you’re right, it’s malignant. Which means she’ll die if it’s not removed. So, I’m doing this operation here, now, with or without your help. But her chances improve greatly with your hands too. So...”
Damn him. Damn him and the glint in his eyes begging her to join him. As if being in close quarters with him wasn’t bad enough, he had to add the promise of an exciting surgery.
“You are so maddening.”
He had her and he knew it. He smiled and then he pressed his advantage even further. He proffered the scalpel and asked:
“Would you like to make the first cut?”
She stared at the scalpel then back at him. Surely, he must have known what this would do to her. The reminder of their first kiss across Sneed’s inert body. The unavoidable pull between them as he offered her everything she’d ever wanted. Surgery, yes but also someone who valued her, respected her.
Damn him.
There was another inert body with them today but that didn’t stop her any more than it had the first time. She pressed forward and ended up almost in his lap. Jack had dropped the scalpel, always ready to catch her. She kissed him so forcefully that he grunted, a noise she enjoyed far too much. He seemed too stunned to respond at first but soon he was cupping the back of her head and pressing her to him. She felt the warmth of his palm, the strength of him between her shoulder blades, grateful for the thin shirt she’d elected to wear today. She had a vague thought for her hair and the mess he was sure to make of it but that was soon forgotten. He was just as forceful, the kiss almost painful.
It had been a long week since they’d last seen each other, a long week of nightmares, of picturing his body at the end of a rope. But also a week of bitter frustration that after six unbearable months apart, she had him again and lost him in the same breath, barely any time to enjoy their reunion, to revel in the feel of him, alive and in her arms, to thank him for what he’d done for her, the gift he’d given her, to care for him after his time locked up in a dingy cell, to kiss his wounds and soothe his mind, to prove to him she was alive and well, by his hand. There was so much she wanted to do for him, yet the only thing in her power right now was staying away to keep him safe.
But when he was in front of her like this, so happy to see her even as she reprimanded him, offering to do life-saving surgery by his side - what could she do but melt into him? Forget about everything for a short while?
He pulled her closer to him somehow. She wasn’t sure how for she had pressed herself as fully against him as her skirt would allow. But he dragged her to him and she gladly went. She was actually in his lap now, straddling him. A most compromising position but she supposed – in for a penny, in for a pound. The hoops of her skirt must be digging into his stomach, but he didn’t seem to care. His kisses were softer now, tender. How could his tongue be so sharp but his lips so soft? His hands caressed her neck, her cheeks.
She might suffocate from happiness. This was the kiss she had imagined for their reunion, not the rushed ones in the church and the morgue, full of love and desperation, yes, but so devoid of easy joy and so short-lived. She fisted his shirt in one hand, determined not to let him go. Her other hand was buried deep in his hair, at times pulling, at others scratching his skull, or tenderly brushing through his curls. Each action led to a different noise from him. The pride of being the cause of these noises was almost as dizzying as the pride from a successful operation. They both seemed to need air at the same time but the space between them barely grew, just enough to catch their breath, lips still brushing from time to time.
“Belle,” he whispered reverently and she could have cried at the sheer amount of love in his voice. This was her home; he was her home. In his arms was where she belonged and the notion that anyone could rip her away from this was revolting. She was half joy and half rage and all love.
The way he dived into their next kiss, one could have thought he was parched and she was water. She threw herself into it with equal vigour, suddenly feeling every second of the six months they needed to make up for. His hand gripped the side of her thigh. Only to steady her, he didn’t move any higher. But that touch made her suddenly aware of other things. Just how high her skirt was hiked up, for one. Which meant his hand was on her drawers, just one layer away from her skin. It also meant there was no gap between them at all, and she could feel the effect their kisses were having on him. She did not want to call the noise she made a squeak, but she knew it was not very dignified. It got swallowed up anyway, for Jack had not stopped his assault on her mouth.
For a few blissful seconds, she got lost in the feel of him and the memories of their morning together months ago. How his naked skin had felt against hers. How gentle he’d been, half afraid and half reverent. The sheer euphoria of being close to him in that way, of giving herself to him. She was flushed with those recollections.
But the heat drained right out of her when the memory of her mother finding them intruded. And with it, the stark reminder that she was forgetting herself, that there was an inert body next to them, a woman whose life rested in their hands. She broke the kiss and gasped.
“The patient!” she exclaimed and clambered out of his lap.
Jack stared dazedly at her for a moment, looking positively debauched with swollen lips and messy hair, his hands still reaching for her. She almost leaned in again, but she suddenly recalled her mother’s words: “Because you can’t seem to control yourself around him!” Belle had called her crass, but she was right. Belle always acted so irrationally around Jack, but endangering a patient to satisfy her own needs… She felt ashamed and couldn’t look him in the eye anymore.
“We must hurry!” she urged.
He silently passed her a new scalpel, retrieving the one he’d dropped to disinfect it.
“Belle,” he said. She could tell by his tone that he was about to address what had just transpired so she cut him off.
“As soon as the incision is made, the tumour should come away fairly easily.”
She glanced at him briefly and saw that he wouldn’t push her, saw the switch to his doctor demeanour, calm and focused on his task. She did her best to emulate him, even though her heart was still racing.
*
The decision to look for him later that night was uneasy. She almost talked herself out of it several times. Best to let it lie, she told herself. They got lucky, she shouldn’t push it. Her mother could have her followed or someone could report seeing them.
But the risks Jack was taking, the enjoyment he got from Fagin endangering all three of them for his own gain, his clear obliviousness to how foolish he was being. She needed to address these things, to impress upon him the need for caution. If he loved her, he needed to be more careful.
So, she donned that black dress again. An ominous outfit, Fanny was right. But she couldn’t very well show up outside the Cat and Bagpipes in her usual regalia. To think she’d once travelled there in nothing but her nightgown and cloak. Then proceeded to kiss Jack passionately in plain sight of anyone who cared to look. She had been reckless then, but she was determined to be sensible now. The episode in the carriage was just a short lapse in judgement.
She spied him through the dirty window of the pub, sitting at a table with the usual crowd. She could see that Fagin was talking to him, but she didn’t much care what the old man had to say. Once Jack had seen her, she motioned with her head for him to come out to her. It didn’t take long.
“I thought we weren’t supposed to be seeing each other.”
He was pleased to see her, pleasantly surprised by this unexpected rendezvous. She allowed herself a small stab of guilt, but she couldn’t afford to let her heart soften. She must stay firm.
“We’re not,” she replied, dryly. “We can’t.”
She had studied her surroundings while she waited for him and had located a deserted, darkened alleyway where they could talk unnoticed. She led the way, knowing he would follow. Thankfully, anyone who had seen them so far was too drunk to care or really notice who they were.
It was indeed so dark in the alleyway that she could barely see his face anymore. And there was a putrid smell that she made a point not to analyse. She steeled herself to be stern and stoic.
“I came here to address what happened today. It’s at the heart of all between us.”
“I thought the only thing between us was love. Isn’t it?”
He had clearly caught her tone and was matching it. Yet she felt his hand cup her elbow, holding it softly. Felt his heat close to her, smelt the beer on his breath. With difficulty, she pulled away from his touch and stepped back a little. Even in darkness, his frown was unmistakable. She only pulled away from him when she was angry with him, seriously angry. Like that time in Government House, when he tried to assist her upstairs during one of her attacks.
“In the carriage today, when Fagin commandeered it, you enjoyed it,” she accused.
“You found no semblance of excitement?” he challenged, growing pettier by the minute.
“None,” she answered. Partly a lie, of course. In the moment, a bigger part of her than she’d like to admit had felt the thrill of it all. Watching him work under such dire conditions, getting a glimpse of what it must have been like when he was a Surgeon Lieutenant. The success of the operation despite the less-than-ideal circumstances. And the fact that they had got away with it. Of course, there had been some measure of excitement.
But she couldn’t tell him this, not if she hoped to impress upon him the sheer stupidity of taking such risks. For once the thrill had died down and even during it, what she felt most of all was terror. Terror at all the things that could have so easily gone wrong, terror that she might be cradling his corpse at this very moment, instead of hiding with him in an alleyway. She could taste that terror now, the sourness of it pooling on the roof of her mouth, and she almost reached for him, on instinct, needing to confirm he was alive. But he spoke and reminded her why she was angry.
“You seemed to find plenty of excitement earlier on.”
That he could throw their kiss in her face now, as if it nullified what happened after, as if it absolved him. As if it hadn’t been dangerous in its own way.
“That shouldn’t have happened either,” she replied.
And she saw that it hurt him. That the kiss had meant as much to him as it did to her. But he only had himself to blame, he shouldn’t have brought it into this conversation.
“You are reckless, Jack. You chase these risks to feel an exhilaration, and you let Fagin pull you into his mad schemes, with no regard for your safety or the consequences. I thought it was your way of surviving, of making a living. But Jack, I think it’s much more than that. It’s an addiction.”
A different fear entirely had also made itself known while she had stewed on the day’s events. She was probably the biggest risk in his life right now. What if that was why he pursued her, was even with her to begin with? What if he insisted on flaunting the rules imposed on them out of his need for adrenaline, not his love for her?
“And I fear that’s what I am to you.”
She could make out his eyes more easily, now that she was used to the darkness. He had been silent after the first part of her speech, had looked chided, as she intended. And his silence was confirmation enough that she was right in her assessment.
But she could see protests practically tumbling out of him at this last statement. He reached for her and she didn’t stop him this time. He held her arms gently, like she was something precious he didn’t want to damage.
“No. Belle.”
He looked over her face, and she saw the lie in her words before he explained it.
“You’re everything to me.”
He seemed genuinely panicked at the idea that she could think otherwise.
“You’re the only person in my life who’s ever made me feel safe,” he said, his voice dropping to a vulnerable whisper.
This undid her. She was his home too. This maddening man who’d blown her life up in the most beautiful way. She made him feel safe. And she was the only person to have done that, which meant he’d never felt safe before. Her heart ached. How could he have gone so long without love and safety? No wonder he was so restless, always running into danger. She didn’t think she would fare much better if life had been so unkind to her.
She decided then and there that she couldn’t do or say anything that would ever make him feel unsafe with her. Sadly, that included being too mad at him. She would have to change tactic, make him see reason without pushing him away.
She fully stepped into his arms, wrapping hers around his waist. They were shielded in darkness; they could have this moment. He immediately relaxed against her, and she knew she’d done the right thing. He pressed his nose to her hair and inhaled deeply.
“Jack,” she sighed. “I need you to be more careful.”
“I know,” he admitted.
She shushed him and pressed a kiss to his collarbone, willing him to listen.
“You’re everything to me too, you foolish man.”
He grunted in protest at the insult, but she ploughed on.
“And when you place yourself in danger, it’s like my heart is outside my chest. I can’t breathe for fear of losing you, Jack. I shouldn’t have said I regret that kiss today. I don’t. I don’t regret any moment spent with you. But I can’t bear the thought that we might get caught, that you would hang and it would be my fault.”
He held her tighter, like he was trying to shield her from her fears. And in his arms, even though that was the crux of the danger, it worked. She felt calmer than she had all week. She leant back so she could look into his face.
“You know those dreams you had while you were in jail?”
He nodded, reaching up to push a strand of hair behind her ear. She nuzzled into his hand.
“I’ve had nightmares just like them all week, Jack. I see you hang and there’s nothing I can do.”
“Oh Belle.”
He stroked her cheek and placed a lingering kiss on her forehead.
“I am listening. And I understand. But what terrifies me is this. That I can’t be there for you, that I’m shut out from what’s going on in your life, in your mind. It makes me itch all over to know you’re out there in the world, out of reach. I want to know when you’re having nightmares. I want to comfort you when you’re sad.”
“I want that too, Jack. More than anything. Do you think I don’t itch for you? I almost asked Fanny to tie me to my bed.”
That brought a smile to his lips, and she kissed it right off. She might have an addiction too. For once she tasted his lips, she struggled to pull away. Her own tingled with the need to touch his. And he was certainly not going to stop her. He held onto her like she might float away if he let go.
When she managed to wrench herself away, she was breathless with longing and didn’t go very far, pressing her forehead to his.
“It’s just not possible right now. We have to be strong, and we have to be careful. But when this is all over, I plan to never be parted from you ever again.”
“Maybe I can drink myself into a two-year-long stupor?” he joked. But she could see the tightness underneath it. This was torture for both of them. And soon she would need to pull herself out of his arms somehow. She had already been gone too long.
“Before I go, there’s something else. Will you tell me what was going on with Fagin today?”
He tensed up in her arms and began pulling away but she placed a hand on the back of his neck, keeping him with her.
“I know I won’t like it. Tell me anyway. Please.”
He sighed.
“He’s trying to get the money together so we can buy my freedom.”
She noted that he didn’t explain how he was getting the money but chose not to focus on that.
“How would money buy your freedom?”
“Bribery.”
She overlooked the crime in favour of the practicalities.
“Jack, you’ve met my mother. And we both know Inspector Boxer is far too lawful. Who could you possibly bribe?”
“Some kind of privy council. They could overturn the sentence apparently.”
“But who would speak to them on your behalf?”
He was silent for a while, and she braced herself for what was sure to be an idiotic answer.
“Your uncle.”
Ah yes, Dickie and his supposed connections to all the influential men of Britain. She was surprised to find that there was actually some merit to the plan. But a much easier solution than whatever they’d cooked up.
“If it’s my uncle you need, you might have thought to go through me.”
“He won’t help me just ‘cause you asked.”
“Why don’t I try before we make up our mind about that? He’s always been fond of me and he’s not particularly smart. Flattery ought to go a long way. He loves nothing more than to show off his connections and he’s also at odds with Mother so he might do it just to taunt her. Leave it with me.”
Jack seemed reluctant to agree to this. She remembered his outburst when her parents had decided his fate like they were discussing dinner plans, his outrage that his life must forever be in the hands of toffs. This was clearly the safer plan, but of course it wouldn’t seem like the natural or comfortable choice to him. He would rather get his hands dirty with Fagin than rely on the whims of a toff and she couldn’t rightly blame him. But it was worth a try.
“I promise that this plan has more chance than whatever your decrepit uncle is cooking up. I don’t trust him, Jack. Let me try my way, please. It could work.”
The very notion that they could actually get him released earlier sent a sudden, dizzying thrill through her. They had been despondent about the current state of affairs but they had a plan now, they might not have to be strong for long.
She tried to reign her hopes in. She should know by now that their path didn’t run smooth, she shouldn’t celebrate a less than certain victory. Still, she felt more hopeful.
Jack clearly shared in the sentiment; he was grinning at her.
“We’ll try your way,” he agreed.
“Good.”
Now that this was settled…
“I really should go before I’m missed at home.”
His smile immediately dropped and he tightened his grip on her.
“Belle,” he pleaded.
“I know, darling,” she soothed.
She was hoping the pet name would distract him and it did.
“You’ve never called me that before,” he said.
He seemed taken aback, like it was a shock that anyone would address him so fondly. She would have to make a point of calling him sweet things. Fanny would tease her for it, but it was well worth it.
“I take it you don’t mind?”
“No, I don’t mind.”
He still looked stricken. She sealed it with a lingering kiss, dragging her tongue against his top lip until he delved into her, his hand low on her back and the taste of his beer in her mouth. Before they could get too caried away, before she could convince herself that this really was a most discreet alleyway, she pulled back. She let him catch her retreating lips, once, twice, then pushed on his chest.
“Jack.”
“I know, I know. But before you go, I wanted to discuss something too.”
She hesitated but could see on his face that it was important to him.
“Quickly, please,” she agreed.
“Earlier, in the carriage, the look on your face when you pulled away from me…”
She should have known he wouldn’t let it go that easily.
“I’m sorry if I was too forward.”
The apology surprised her. She wasn’t expecting nor did she want it. But she let him continue, for he clearly had more to say.
“You say you don’t regret our kiss, but do you regret the other things we’ve done? That morning in your room? I know it was never your intention that we go any further before we were married. The circumstances were dire but now that your life is saved… I wondered if you’d grown to regret it… And maybe to resent me…”
She couldn’t hear any more of this.
“Jack, no. Stop. I meant it, I don’t regret a single moment spent with you. And I certainly don’t regret what we did that morning. I asked for it, remember?”
“Yes, I remember,” he confirmed and the warmth in his voice made her blush. “But you looked devastated earlier, after I touched your thigh,” he pushed.
“I…”
She wasn’t sure how to explain, without making it sound like she did regret it all, like his touch was unwelcome. It was a complicated mess of feelings and social expectations. Jack had always been free and unashamed about sex. He was a man and no one in his circle would have cared to teach him any different – virtue and chastity were surely the last thing on their mind. She, however, had been raised to think of it as a shameful act. It was framed as a wifely duty, done to procure heirs. The notion that any pleasure could be gained from it and that a woman could desire it, initiate it even, were strictly dismissed.
Of course, Belle had questioned these beliefs, and her medical studies had gone a long way to demystify the act. She knew how it worked, knew that it was a biological function and not a sin. Knew also that the doctors who dismissed female pleasure were the same ones who cried hysteria at any and every female symptom. So, for the most part, she resisted higher society’s views on the topic. But somewhere in her subconscious, their misguided shaming must have taken deeper root than she had thought. Not helped by her mother’s clear disgust for what they had done.
“Belle?” he questioned, when she’d been quiet for too long.
To her horror, she felt tears in her eyes. She tried to hold them back, but they were too many. She didn’t even understand why she was crying. And Jack was sure to think she regretted it all now.
“Belle. What’s wrong? What is it?”
He wiped her tears away with his thumb and bent down so he could look into her eyes. The concern on his face only brought more tears.
“Please talk to me, love.”
She wondered if he was also using a pet name as a distraction. Either way, it worked. She liked the sound of it and felt calmer.
“I don’t know how to explain it.”
He nodded and waited, giving her time. God, she loved this man. And what they did was beautiful, the way they loved each other was beautiful, she wouldn’t let anything convince her otherwise.
“I don’t regret a single thing we’ve done, Jack. That includes today, although we should have been more focused on our patient.”
“Yes, we got carried away,” he conceded and looked a little shamed by that fact too.
“But I didn’t mind you touching me. I don’t ever mind you touching me. The look on my face was… It had to do with something Mother said.”
He grew tight-lipped at the mention of her mother.
“What did she say?” he asked, clearly knowing he wouldn’t like it.
“She said I can’t control myself around you.”
“Belle…”
“It’s alright. She’s not entirely wrong but it’s not just what she said. It’s the beliefs I grew up with. As hard as I’ve fought them, they’ve somehow seeped into my own thinking. I’ve flaunted plenty of social conventions in my time, but chastity is a particularly heavy one, I suppose. I think a part of me is ashamed of how much I want you.”
He sucked in a breath, and she wasn’t sure if he was shocked by her shame or by the depth of her desire.
“It’s not a part of me that I particularly love or want to indulge,” she continued. “I certainly wouldn’t call what we did a sin, and I don’t think of myself as the unpleasant word society would be sure to use. But it’s like a voice at the back of my mind that’s not actually mine. It’s difficult to shake.”
He nodded, seeming to understand completely, and she realised that her plight was maybe not too dissimilar to his own struggle to shake off his criminal past and his uncle.
She had stopped crying and felt lighter now that she’d shared her thoughts with Jack. He wiped the last of her tears away and kissed each of her cheeks.
“Thank you for explaining. Will you just promise me something? Will you tell me if I ever am too forward?”
She wanted to scoff at that idea, but she could see that he was serious, that the look on her face earlier must have truly shaken him.
“I will, Jack. But I also promise that you have nothing to be sorry for so far.”
He smiled, relieved.
“Now, I really should go. I’ve been gone too long.”
He looked like he wanted to protest but he didn’t try to hold her back this time.
“Please be safe,” she begged.
It didn’t escape her notice that he hesitated before nodding.
“I will.”
“Please,” she insisted. To remind him of what they stood to lose, she added: “And remember that no matter how long we’re apart, I am yours. I belong to you, body and soul, Jack Dawkins.”
He reached for her, clearly intent on devouring her all over again, but she only allowed a short kiss before pulling firmly away.
“I will find a way to get word to you when I’ve spoken to my uncle.”
He nodded and she started to walk away before an idea struck her.
“Do you have something sharp on you?”
By his expression, that was the last thing he expected her to say.
“Looking to perform another illegal surgery, my lady?”
She wondered if he knew what his use of that title did to her. He probably did. He always used it so irreverently. It was downright sinful.
“Well, do you?” she pressed.
He pulled out a pocketknife and proffered it to her much like he had the scalpel earlier that day. She had to focus very hard not to get distracted again. Taking the knife from him, she opened it and untucked a strand of hair from her chignon. When she held the blade to her hair, Jack gasped.
“What are you doing?”
But she’d made the cut before he could question it further. She tucked the knife back into the pocket of his waistcoat then held his hand in hers, palm up, and dropped the blond curl there, closing his fist over it and pressing a kiss to his fingers.
“Now you’ll always have a piece of me,” she said simply.
She felt his eyes on her as she walked away and she knew she’d stunned him. She smiled, feeling so much lighter than when she’d sought him out. He was right, they needed each other. Hopefully, the moments they’d shared today would tide them over for a while.