Can't Love You {Sequel to "Not Sherlock Holmes"}

Chapter Ten

Veronica's POV

What is he doing here?

What is he doing here?

WHAT IS HE DOING HERE?

I don't know how I should be reacting. Maybe I shouldn't have slapped him. Maybe I should have been grateful.

But ten years.

I stomp back to our camp, fuming. I see a fire going through the trees, for the light of the sun is waning, and darkness will soon come again.

Except it seems to have a whole new meaning now.

The carefully constructed tents and forts come into view as I make my way into the camp. Two little boys are wacking each other with sticks to my left, and I call to them.

"I'll tell your mother if you two don't stop right now!" I say, a bit more harshly than necessary. Matthew and Michael both stop and look down, shamefaced.

"Sorry, Miss Veronica." I sigh.

"Oh, stop it, you two. Go play something else, stop giving me that look." Michael's brown eyes brighten, and he leads Matthew away to play by the river.

I straighten up and see him walking toward me.

"Hey! Where's Ian and Maggie?" His hair is greyer than before, and his face has more wrinkles. But that just makes it so his eyes crinkle more when he smiles.

"Martin," I breathe, relieved, and I run into his arms. I'm a few inches taller than he is, so I can't exactly bury my face in his coat, but his uncertain pats on my back are comforting nonetheless.

"Is everything alright?" he asks, gently rubbing my arms and holding me back so he can see my face. I shake my head, but I don't let the tears come.

"No. No, it's not. It's not alright," I say, and he fixes me with a concerned stare.

"Where is Ian? Maggie?" I gesture to the woods.

"In there somewhere. Bringing... him... back." I can't even say his name. His forehead wrinkles in confused.

"I'm sorry, what?" I look at the ground.

"Martin, he's back." He still doesn't seem to comprehend. Not that I blame him.

"Who is back, Nica? Stop speaking to me in riddles and tell me."

"Benedict. He's back." His face goes blank.

"Oh, this is a funny joke." He walks away, then looks back at me. "That is absolutely hilarious. See, I wouldn't have put that past Ian, or one of the other boys, but you? You?" He rounds back on me, jabbing a finger at me. "I would think that you'd know better. I would think that you would realize how cruel of a joke that is. I would never do something like that to you!" I look at him calmly.

"When you're finished lecturing me," I say levelly. "Then you'll see him coming into camp with Ian behind you." He rolls his eyes and turns, but as soon as he sees, his entire body goes rigid. I stand so that I'm next to him, and I observe his expression. Pain.

"It can't be," he mutters, as he runs his hands through his grey hair and his face contorts.

Ben sees us, but he looks just as distressed as us. He's limping, and Ian helps him into a tent, but Ben can't stop looking at us, and we can't stop looking at him.

On impulse, I follow him and Ian into the tent, and I see that Martin does the same. Ben is being situating on a cot, but Ian looks at the two of us, concerned.

"I don't know if it's such a good idea for you two to be here," he says, but I shake my head.

"No, we're coming in," Martin voices. We enter, and I sit on the floor as far from Benedict as I can. Martin sits next to me.

"Ben, can you tell me what happened?" Ian says calmly, surely. Benedict looks panicked; terrified.

"I-I... I was on the boat. Not an hour ago. I was on the boat, and they were killing people. I tried to get away, but they shot me, and they threw me overboard." He gulps, and he sweats profusely. "I was drowning, and then I'm sure I died. I died, and then I was on a ship with a man. And he dropped me off in the forest, and then you all found me."

"He's a raving lunatic," Martin mutters next to me, but I still see his evident hurt, the intense pain. I just stare at him, unbelieving.

"Ben," I say gently, although it takes everything in my to do so. "I was informed that someone went crazy on board and shot everyone. I was told it was a passenger. That wouldn't have been you... would it?" He looks at me incredulously.

"Absolutely not! They were lying! Officer Marsh, he was murdering passengers in the shower! He was murdering them, and I tried to get out! I-"

"I think you need some rest, sir," the woman who was tending his wounds says. We all nod.

"Yes, that's a good idea. We'll come back later." I stand and exit the tent as quickly as possible.

"Nica!" I freeze. I had forgotten how Benedict's voice sounded when he said my name. I turn slowly to face him, and he's trying to sit up in his cot, but the woman is forcing him back down.

"Nica, I'm so sorry..." I turn and I leave, not wanting anyone to see the tears on my cheeks.

Not wanting to display my weakness.