When Jacques’ CO Renard told him they’d be traveling to Laclilas for a series of talks at the med school, he thought she was making a very bad joke. But non, she was dead serious. And that’s how he ended up on a train with her and her boss, the terrifying Médecin General.
Whatever charm Laclilas had held during the war (when he and Franck were falling in love) was gone, leaving nothing but bitterness and regret. The winter weather wasn’t helping, drizzly and gray, shrouding everything in a dull mist. Just watching the city park’s entrance pass by Jacques’ taxi window was enough to trigger pangs of depression, but at least the sapphire maple they used to picnic under wasn’t visible from the street. And, of course, they were staying at the same little hotel that Franck and Jacques used to steal private moments in when their shifts lined up. That shouldn’t have surprised Jacques, it was the only nice-ish hotel in town. The only saving grace was that the interior had been renovated, so he at least woke up to new furniture and didn’t expect to see Franck laying next to him like he sometimes did at home. The unfamiliar would be his friend that week.
Unfortunately, the college campus they’d served the war in hadn’t really changed. The military signage was all gone now, as were the uniforms, but civilian students couldn’t distract Jacques from the medical center he’d worked in, or the dorms that served as his barracks. Or the auditorium that had hosted his and Franck’s first date. That hadn’t changed one bit - same maroon seats, same dark acoustic walls. One might say presenting a lecture there would be a literal nightmare for Jacques, except even his strongest brain worms had never come up with something that diabolical. Jacques’ heart rate was in the stratosphere and all he could do was fumble for the old coping mechanisms that got him through med school. Dissociating through his own lecture didn’t seem possible, but his brain pulled it off, leaving him so numb that he barely noticed a word of the later presentations, or the conversations around him at dinner.
But then they walked past Edgar’s Deli and Jacques felt every second that had passed since he’d said goodbye.
“Oh, that’s right, I had that errand,” Renard said to the Médecin General, “why don’t you run ahead of us, and we’ll see you in the morning?”
“D’accord, d’accord,” the MG waved her away, not even stopping to look back. Which option was worse: walking into the deli, or walking back to the hotel with just the MG? Jacques’ shocked indecision gave Renard the window she needed to yank him inside before he could respond.
“What the fuck-”
Smack! Did she just slap him!? The cashier’s head popped over the counter to see what all the commotion was about.
“What is wrong with you?” Renard hissed, “Do you want to get reassigned to the fucking desert?”
“I-I… What?”
“He is watching you like a hawk! Looking for any excuse to ship you off to some middle-of-nowhere hellhole. I can’t protect you from your own damn insubordination!”
“Insubordination!?” Jacques growled, “Are you fucking serious right now? You know what this place means to me! You can’t drag me out here, where we fell in love, and expect me to be okay with it!”
“It’s not me you need to pretend to, jackass! Of course I know this is torture, that’s why I denied it the first two times they asked for you.”
“W-What? The school asked…”
“Twice before, oui. He intercepted it and answered for me this time, I didn’t have a choice.”
Jacques’ jaw dropped.
“Yeah, so get it together, he knows this is torture and wants you to lose your shit.”
Renard shook her head and walked towards the drinks coolers at the back of the shop. Jacques followed her in a daze. She was next to the wine rack but his eyes instinctively darted away, just seeing a bottle of their sentimental favorite would probably break him right there. Then Jacques felt the eyes watching him from the counter. Maybe it was somebody new? Renard crouched down to read some labels and Jacques stole a glance to the front. Of course, it was Edgar himself, staring right back at him. The older shopkeep offered a small wave, but Jacques signaled no, eyes popping to accentuate the microscopic shake of his head. A tight smile and subtle nod was Edgar’s only reply. He was kind enough to ignore Jacques completely as he rang up Renard’s items.
“You gonna answer that?” the MG grunted as they crossed the main concourse, a good hour before their train was set to arrive.
Jacques had zoned out again, under-slept, overtired, and anxious to get out of Laclilas, and his watch was ringing, “O-Oh! That’s just my alarm…” He let go of his suitcase to silence the watch, very annoyed to be doing that in a train station instead of bed. Something brushed up against his arm; Gray sweatshirt, hood up, blue suitcase…
Jacques’ suitcase! Merde! He lunged for the thief but they dodged and scooped up his luggage. The two sprinted across the concourse, the thief’s gold-medal legs easily out-pacing Jacques’ to the exit. Bad timing placed a civilian in the doorway, leaving the doors wide open so the thief could blow past them and out of the station. Jacques hopped around the stunned newcomer, taking three steps to the thief’s one, falling even further behind. By the time he burst out onto the sidewalk the thief was already at the curb. They dashed around a delivery van and Jacques bolted after them, desperate to catch up-
A wall of tan enveloped Jacques, his arms were cinched to his sides, and then he was on the ground. Non, it was metal. The van! Merde alors, Jacques was being kidnapped! He kicked and screamed with all his might, but the van lurched to life, tossing him left and right as at least two people wrestled with his legs. The struggle felt like a lifetime, but eventually the kidnappers won, binding his legs together, then his wrists, then his arms again, just for fun. Utterly defeated, Jacques panted through a mouthful of blanket(?) and fought to keep the panic from rising any further.
The van sped around corners and over curbs for about ten minutes, then stopped. Footsteps rattled around him on the floor, but they left him untouched. No-one had spoken a word that Jacques could recall, and saw no need to change that for a pit-stop, patting at the exterior of the van in terrifying silence. Then the van’s floor rang out with footsteps, doors slammed shut, and they started moving again. But this time the speeds were reasonable, and the turns gentle, and Jacques knew he was fucked. They’d gotten away with it, outrun whoever was chasing them - he was well and truly kidnapped now. Twenty agonizing minutes of silent granny driving passed. By the time the van stopped again Jacques was almost looking forward to sitting for a ransom video, but it turned out to be just another efficient pit-stop. Even worse, the frequent stops and turns of urban driving now gave way to open road. The Sticks was not where Jacques, newly minted kidnappee, wanted to be taken.
The van lurched down a bump, then again, and again, as each tire navigated it separately, the crunch of gravel drifting up through the floor. Christ, a dirt road? Jacques didn’t even know they had those out there. Then a sharp slope - downhill or underground? Merde merde merde, who the fuck were these people and what did they want from him?
The answer came sooner than expected. The ground leveled and the van parked. Several hands sat him up and slid him to the door, then freed his legs and helped him stand up. His torso was freed next, then the blanket lifted, leaving Jacques squinting in the light. Someone was standing in front of him…
Edgar!?
“Ah, there he is, finally!” He beamed up at Jacques with his trademark disarming sincerity, and when his stunned quarry stuttered confusion he simply laughed and pulled him into a bear hug, “We’ve had this set up for ages!”
“You… th-this? You… Am I… not… kidnapped?”
“Oh, non monsieur! Sorry for the scare, that was just the best way to get to you. You’re a free man now, we’re getting you out of here.”
“Out? You’re part…” Jacques caught himself and glanced around at the crew unloading the van.
“It’s safe,” Edgar assured him, “Family, mostly. Nobody’s gonna talk.”
“You’re part of… the Network?” Jacques whispered.
“The what?”
Jacques went stone cold.
“Oh,” the deer-in-headlights look on Jacques’ face must have been the only answer Edgar needed, “you already had someone working on it? Ha! Well, hopefully we’re using the same Greenfie as them.”
How the fuck had Edgar put this together without Léon’s help!? Had Jacques missed a message…? His watch was locked up in a Faraday case, and there it would stay, untraceable and unusable. But Edgar had the answers to most of Jacques’ questions anyway; He was the reason Jacques was invited to speak at the college. Renaud’s attempts to protect Jacques’ feelings had actually hurt Jacques in the long run, as he could have been free ten months ago, if only she’d approved the trip.
Edgar led Jacques into a dingy little office and gave him a new suitcase and some civilian clothes to change into. The new suitcase was slightly larger than his old one, a fact that got a bit more absurd each time he evaluated an item in his old one. The dress uniform he’d worn for the talks? That did not need to come with him. The everyday uniform he’d put on that morning? No fucking way. His insignia and medals were the only parts of his military career he gave a shit about anymore. So those, his toiletries, a pair of sweatpants, the Faraday case, and the handful of mementos he’d packed at Pépé’s behest were all that went into the new suitcase. Even with the civvies Edgar had provided he’d be taking less than he’d started with. At least Jacques would be able to keep his impossible promise to Pépé.
A box truck backed up next to the van. Edgar released the door catch and reached inside, producing a diving mask and tank of air.
“I’m afraid the next leg of your journey is going to be a bit more uncomfortable.”
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