When In Rome

[J. Alfred Darrow]

Alfred swallowed, his throat tight. He knew, of course, that there was a chance they'd never get home. He'd even said as much, on many occasions. That being said, he didn't like Paul saying it. Paul was the optimist, or he was supposed to be. Had his mild moodiness since the temple been him giving up hope? Did he really no longer believe that there was any chance? There might have been only the slightest glimmer of hope that they'd ever see their loved ones again, but wasn't it Paul that had always encouraged the three of them to hold on to that hope?

If Paul had given up, what did that leave? Could Alfred go on believing that someday he'd be back in England, seeing Vera again, when no one else did?

"Maybe we'll die, then," he said, with difficulty. "But I'd rather die an Engilshman then have them find us some day--or our bodies, or our things--and have everyone we left behind know that we lived as savages."

  

[Paul Pince]

"They're not savages, John!" Paul said in exasperation. "They're different, that's all. Besides, we didn't exactly live like the Prince of Wales before we joined them, did we? At least now we have something like a proper house and eat something akin to a proper meal and I bet they'd have their own medicine if we needed it. You wouldn't feel any less of an Englishman if you lived in France, so don't be such a prejudiced prick and try to actually enjoy what may be the rest of your life!"

  

[J. Alfred Darrow]

It was already too late, he realized. It might have been too late before they'd even gotten to this village, and maybe that had been why Paul had been so determined to make contact with them in the first place. Paul was comfortable here, and he wouldn't ever want to leave again, and now he was trying to find a way to turn this around and make it seem as though Alfred was the one who was in the wrong, just because he hadn't given up entirely on his identity.

"So that's it, then?" he asked in disbelief. "We survived the storm and the shipwreck and the mountains and everything, and we've been heading for home this entire time, and you're going to give up on that for a roof made of dirt and some primitive medicine?"

  

[Paul Pince]

There had been a time when Paul was certain that he would return home. Back in the shipwreck days, he believed that they'd find a way to fix it. He'd believed that they would get out of the wilderness at some point. Then, that certainty had turned to hope. Paul still hoped to return home, but he also realized that it was more likely that he wouldn't go home and if he couldn't have that, he'd rather live with other people than waste away in a jungle.

"Maybe it was always meant for it to happen that way, John. Maybe it was our destiny for us to find a home here. And who knows - maybe we'll end up happier here than we would have ever been back home."

  

[J. Alfred Darrow]

Alfred didn't know what to say to that. Paul really had given up entirely, if he was starting to talk about concepts like destiny. Maybe he'd taken the doomsday things from the temple a little too much to heart, and maybe that was what had started him thinking along these lines. If he really did believe it was fate, perhaps he didn't see the problem in trading away the lives they were supposed to have for these simple tribal customs. Alfred didn't believe in fate. As he'd told Paul before, over a year ago, sailors didn't hope for things; they trusted that they were going to get the things they wanted, because they worked for them and made them happen. Paul, it seemed, wasn't willing to work for anything anymore. He'd found something he was willing to settle on.

"No," Alfred said, shaking his head and taking a step away from Paul. "No, it wasn't supposed to happen this way. No, it's not destiny. No, this isn't home, and no, I won't be happy here." Having made this declarations, he turned and started to walk away. Paul was lost to him, at this point, and he didn't think there was anything else left for the two of them to say to each other.