She lay in her bunk, delirious, and feeling moments from death, wishing just that on Gareth and each and every one of any descendants he might have in the future, provided he survived this trip, of course.
It had begun innocently enough. He wanted to take them somewhere special, he'd said. He felt really badly for messing up their honeymoon with his poor navigation so far, he'd told them, appearing truly contrite. Upon hearing the destination, Lily had wanted to refuse. It was a waste of time in her mind... nothing to do with their mission at all. But Carson, reading her refusal before she voiced it, stayed her by pulling her into his arms, addling her brain with the closeness just long enough to tell Gareth, "Of course, we'd love to go. Wouldn't we, Barbie? Two history buffs like us could never possibly turn down a chance to see Tudor England and the court of Henry VIII for free, could we?" She'd known he was right. They had to go to keep their cover in tact. She began to move towards their seats when Carson had tightened his arms, leaving a lingering kiss at the base of her neck. She practically floated the whole way there before the jolt of their arrival snapped her out of it. Two things were very clear to her. One: Gareth was a terrible pilot. She had no idea how he kept his job as guide with such a top-notch company. Two: This honeymoon had to end. Fast. She couldn't possibly let herself fall for Carson. She just hoped it wasn't too late already.
********
She'd let herself be talked into taking a few days there. Carson's reasoning had made sense. They couldn't let Gareth become suspicious that they were not who they claimed to be.
Time Agents weren't authorized to travel in the private sector. They did anyway, more often than not, because the Council's tech was well behind what civilian money could develop. But if they were caught, they'd be tried before both the civilian and Time Council tribunals, and then locked up on some lunar penal colony for the rest of their natural-born lives.
So, they played the newlyweds they were pretending to be, almost to perfection. They'd even sat up one night making sound effects, laughing into pillows, for Gareth's benefit. If their guide's red face and failure to meet their eyes the next morning was any indication, they'd done a good job. She pretended not to notice the way Carson had been subtly staying closer, holding her hands, dropping light kisses on her lips that left her dizzy. It was only in the main part of the ship. Only when Gareth could see. She pretended to believe that it was only for the sake of their cover, pretended she felt nothing. She was getting to be a brilliant liar.
********
She was not really sure of where she was from one moment to the next, and each new round of violent shaking sent stabbing pain through her aching head. She kept seeing Ben. She kept trying to tell him she was so sorry she was starting to love Carson. Telling him she hadn't meant to, that she still thought about him every day. She yelled at his disapproving face sometimes. She told him it was his fault. He'd hurt her first by leaving. She asked him why he cared anymore who she loved. He was dead anyway, and she was alone. She could love who she wanted to, and he could just deal with it and go away again. Then she'd cry and beg him to stay. She felt him holding her hand, saying he was sorry and he'd stay, and it was enough to quiet her and let her sleep a little while.
She woke slowly a few days later. She vainly tried to kick off the weight of the drenched sheets. The last thing she remembered was being in the city. They'd been taking in the sights of London (she could have done without the smells) when she'd collapsed. Back at the ship, the medbot had diagnosed her with the ancient deadly illness known as the sweating sickness. Gareth was a bastard she decided. Some special detour.
As she sunk back to the bed after weakly trying to sit up and failing, the door behind her opened, and Gareth and Carson came through talking. Catching the thread of their conversation, she froze and lay still, feigning sleep. She couldn't quite understand what she was hearing.
Carson's voice was sounding distraught, "... have to go back. We never should have brought her. We should have left her with the other one. She wasn't supposed to get sick. Why isn't the antidote working yet? If she dies... We never should have gone there. We should have stuck to the plan and gone to the next stop. We-"
Gareth's voice, sounding hard, "Shut up. I don't care who she is. And dead Agent or not, we are not halting this mission. Do you know how long it took to get ahold of this ship? We'll never get this chance again. Her vitals are improving. She'll be fine. Quit being such a baby. And stop blabbing. She could wake up any time now, and this isn't going to work if she figures out we aren't who we claim to be. I don't care what kind of games you've been playing, she'll turn us in. And I'm not going back to that frozen moon. You want to tell her, you do it after it's done. And after I'm gone. Risk your own neck, for all I care, but I won't let you risk mine." The door slid shut as soon as his footsteps hit the passageway. Her heart was racing, only now it wasn't from the sickness. It was raw fear. Just what was she in the middle of? And who was she stuck on this ship with? Since when was Carson a traitor?
A hand slipped into hers, and she tried not to feel comforted at Carson's whispered apologies for not taking better care of her. She tried to steel her heart against him, and she knew she'd need every bit of her recently improved acting skills to stay ahead of her two traveling companions and figure out just what the hell was going on. The stakes had just risen higher than her goal of retirement.
