The Journeymen

George the Horse

How could he have been so stupid?

Why would he choose to trust somebody he barely knew? He had seen how powerful he was, how dangerous he was, and still he chose to bring him along. To trust Gabe. And now, when he revealed his true colors, it was not Jack who paid the cost. Chuck was the one to die. It was Chuck who burned alive in a fire so hot that his sidearm had partially melted at his side. It was Chuck who would never get the chance to go home to his family.

How could he have been so stupid?

He had seen Liza sitting at the kitchen table looking bleary-eyed as he stormed out of her house and into the backyard. Slamming the door and letting out his loud frustrated, furious, wordless shout, all he knew is that he had been a fool.

One thing he had learned early in his policing career was to be slow to trust people. To never expect someone's true intentions to come first. And he also learned to never put himself in a vulnerable position.

Somehow he had ignored the wisdom that had kept him and Chuck alive through countless dangerous calls as a deputy, through numerous SWAT standoffs, and even his first firefight. The wisdom that kept them alive throughout the chaotic first year after the Separation. The wisdom that saved their lives time and again on their missions and patrols as Journeymen.

Because he had ignored that wisdom, his best friend and brother was gone. The Journeymen had suffered their greatest defeat since their inception. Because of him. Whether or not that was true, Jack believed it to be so. He was angry at Gabe. He hated the man who had so easily fooled him. But his blind rage was directed solely at one person. Himself.

He found an empty bucket that sat at the bottom of the steps that led down from the back porch area and he booted it across the yard. Chickens scattered in fear, clucking and fluttering their wings. Sitting down at the bottom of the steps, seething in his fury, he bent his head. He sat there, fists clenched in silent rage.

Hot breath and the smacking sound of lips startled him. Looking up, Jack found himself face to face with the gray muzzle of his steadfast steed. Somebody had brought George from the stables at the hollowed out husk that had once been the Meeting House.

George leaned forward and sniffed his master, his warm, velvety nose brushing up against Jack's nose, forehead and cheeks. The enraged man closed his eyes and sighed as his loyal companion curiously examined him. Reaching a hand up, he stroked the muzzle of his equine friend.

"Hey buddy," he said softly.

The horse nickered softly in reply, lifting his snout in a motion that almost looked like a nod.

"Sorry you had to see that," he apologized.

George only snorted and blew his hot, damp breath into his human's face. Jack closed his eyes and smirked.

"It's Chuck. He's gone."

Tears returned to his eyes for the first time since he had cried with Anya. George curiously sniffed his cheek where his salty tears fell.

"It was my fault."

Jack let his head droop and held one hand to his head as he cried. He felt the horse ease closer, leaning his long head up against his body. George's soft ear and gray mane brushed against the man's bearded cheek.

The two sat there, the man crying silent tears, the horse leaning up against him, propping him up. Supporting him in his grief and frustration.

After a few moments, George stepped back, forcing Jack to lift his head and look at him. He snorted and shook his head. The master Journeyman wiped his face and looked at his horse, furrowing his brow.

"What? It was my fault. I trusted Gabe. Chuck died. The other masters died. Anya almost died. I should have known he was tricking us. I should have protected them," he said, feeling the familiar anger replace the sadness that had briefly overcome him.

The gray horse met his gaze and held it. The two deep brown eyes stared into his as the horse puffed air out of his nostrils in a long sigh.

"I have to go back home and tell Sherry and his kids. I have to go back home and face everybody. I messed up and he got killed."

His statement was met another soft nicker from his horse. George's intense gaze never broke, never softened. As if he was questioning his owner. Asking things like, how could you have known? How is this any more your fault than anyone else's?

Jack found himself arguing with his horse, "Because I thought I was better than this! Because I just should have known."

George let out a frustrated snort and shook his head. Are you joking? You couldn't have known that some magic wizard would trick everybody and blow up the council meeting. You need to get your head right.

Shrugging his shoulders the man replied to his speechless conversation partner, "I guess you might be right. But how do I handle things back home?"

A neighed reply told him what he needed to hear. Figure that out later. You have a job to do. And pity party Jack won't be able to handle things. Shape up.

The solemn man set his jaw, his tired eyes finding focus. "You're right. I need to stop Gabe. I need to get justice for Chuck. And the masters. And Anya," he growled quietly.

"Um-," he heard an uncertain voice say behind him.

Jack whipped his head around, surprised that he had been snuck up on. He looked up to the back porch and saw Liza's butler, Martin. Much to Jack's surprise, the quaint but proper butler was dressed in an old fashioned nightgown, topped off by an actual floppy night cap.

The Journeyman tilted his head to the side, a slight smile stretching across his lips in amusement, "Yes, Martin?"

"Sir, were you talking to the horse?" he asked cautiously.

"Well-," Jack begun before pausing to smile to himself. "Yes I was," he continued, "What is it Martin?"

A cautious half smile crept onto the face of the man that, somehow in what had been the panhandle of Texas, had an incredibly proper sounding British accent.

He noticeably forced the smile down before answering, "Master Haldane was wanting to speak with you. He already has Apprentice Thompson, Colonel Villa, and Miss Liza gathered. He seems to have some sort of plan."

Jack nodded and rose, gently patting George on the head, "Thank you, Martin. I'm glad to hear that."

Confidently striding up the stairs, the expert he moved with newfound purpose. He would find justice for his fallen friends. He would be able to return to his home with his head held high, knowing he had avenged Chuck. Of course, he could only do that if whatever plan Evan had succeeded. And Jack knew he would do everything in his power to make that happen.