The Doctor's Sanctuary
Belle Fox had expected secrecy.
She had expected danger.
But she had not expected this.
The moment she stepped through the hidden door—after Jack turned the lock twice, checked the alley, and made her promise she would tell no one—Belle's breath left her completely.
The underground clinic looked nothing like anything in the British Empire.
Scalpels sharper than razors.
Glass jars filled with antiseptic solutions she didn't recognize.
Sutures finer than any English thread.
A crude sterilization cabinet heated by repurposed machinery.
Detailed anatomical sketches pinned to the walls—drawings more accurate than any medical text she'd ever seen.
Her heart hammered painfully.
"Jack…" she whispered.
"What is all this?"
Jack didn't answer.
He was busy.
He moved from table to shelf with focused precision, sweeping up stacks of advanced surgical textbooks—books Belle had never seen—into his arms.
Then—
Fwshhh.
They vanished into thin air.
Belle's eyes widened.
"What—what did you just do?!"
Jack looked at her calmly, as if nothing unusual had happened.
"Storage trick," he said simply.
"A trade secret."
"No—Jack—don't play games with me!" Belle snapped, stepping between him and the wall.
"You had books here. Medical books. I saw the edges. You hid them the moment I walked in."
"And for good reason."
He wiped his hands and faced her.
Belle's emotions burst out all at once:
"You had knowledge that could save lives—knowledge no one in the Empire has ever seen—and you keep it hidden?! You're selfish, Jack Dawkins!"
Jack stared at her with an expression that chilled her rage instantly.
Not anger.
Not offence.
Something darker.
Something older.
"Belle," he said quietly, "do you think the world is ready for what I know?"
She opened her mouth—
Then closed it.
Jack stepped closer.
Close enough that she could see the exhaustion behind his eyes.
"You think surgery here is barbaric? Primitive?" he asked softly.
"This century can't even wash their hands before cutting a man open. They amputate first and ask questions later. They bleed people when they have fevers. They drill skulls to release 'evil vapors.'"
Belle swallowed.
He wasn't wrong.
"But your work—your knowledge—could change that."
Jack's voice shifted—low, controlled, dangerously steady.
"Or destroy everything."
Belle flinched at the intensity.
"What do you—"
"Imagine," he interrupted, "if a man like Captain Gaines learned how to make poisons that kill in seconds."
He took another step.
"Imagine the Crown weaponizing diseases that can spread across colonies and wipe out thousands."
Another step.
"Imagine nobles creating drugs that addict children in a day… turning entire districts into slaves."
Belle felt her stomach sink.
"Jack…"
"Imagine," he whispered, "that the powerful got hold of my knowledge."
The clinic fell silent.
Belle suddenly understood.
This wasn't greed.
This wasn't arrogance.
This was fear.
A justified one.
Jack pointed at the simple anatomy textbook he had left on the desk—the only thing he hadn't hidden.
"That," he said, "is all the world can handle right now."
Belle stared at him.
For the first time, she truly saw what it meant for him to carry the name "Doctor."
Not a profession.
A burden.
Not glory.
Responsibility.
Not fame.
Power that could reshape the world… or ruin it.
Belle exhaled shakily.
"So… you hide everything."
Jack nodded.
"And you trust no one?"
A pause.
Then:
"I trust Hetty," he said.
"That's all."
Belle swallowed the sting that hit her chest—but she understood.
For the first time.
"Then why bring me here?" she asked quietly.
Jack looked at her.
Really looked at her.
"Because," he said, "I need an ally."
Her breath caught.
"And," Jack added, "because you needed to understand the difference between a surgeon… and a doctor."
Belle felt something shift inside her.
Fear.
Respect.
Loyalty.
All tangled together.
"Fine," she said softly.
"But Jack… one day, the world will need this. All of it."
Jack didn't argue.
He just turned away.
"When that day comes," he murmured, "I'll decide whether the world is worth saving."
Belle's First Forbidden Operation
Belle Fox stood in the center of the hidden clinic, her breath trembling, her gloves still stiff with faint traces of disinfectant. The shadows of lanternlight cast long, sharp angles across steel tools that belonged to a century far ahead of her own.
Jack was adjusting a strange metal instrument—something Belle had never seen before.
Something no surgeon in the Empire had ever seen.
And then he said the words that changed everything:
"Belle," Jack murmured without turning, "you're assisting me tonight."
Belle froze.
"You—what? On… on an illegal patient?"
Jack finally turned toward her.
"Yes."
The simplicity of the answer made her stomach twist.
"Why me?" she whispered.
"Why not Hetty?"
A smirk tugged at Jack's lip.
"Hetty is working the hospital tonight. And you…" His eyes flicked over her.
"You want to be a surgeon. A real one."
He stepped closer.
"So here's your chance."
Belle's heart thundered in her chest—fear, excitement, and a spark of pride all tangled together.
She swallowed.
"What kind of patient?"
Jack didn't answer with words.
He opened the back door.
Two men carried in a bleeding criminal—face swollen, ribs broken, leg torn open by knife wounds. He was barely alive. His breath rattled like a dying bellows.
Belle's eyes widened.
"That's—he's—"
"A wanted man? Yes," Jack cut in.
"A murderer? Probably."
Belle flinched.
"And you're going to save him?!"
Jack's expression turned cold.
"I am The Doctor," he said.
"I treat injuries. Not morality."
He pointed to the surgical basin.
"Glove up. Apron on. And don't faint."
Belle's hands shook—only a little.
She obeyed.
The Surgery Begins
The man was laid on the table, delirious, muttering curses through cracked lips.
Blood seeped fast.
Belle swallowed the bile creeping up her throat.
"You're going to amputate?"
"No." Jack's voice was calm.
"I'm going to save the leg."
Belle snapped her gaze towards him.
"That's impossible. The bone is—"
"Fractured. Not lost," Jack corrected.
"And the artery is torn. But I can fix it."
Belle blinked.
"No one has ever repaired an artery."
Jack tightened his mask.
"Which is why no one else is doing the surgery."
He leaned over the patient, eyes narrowing.
Belle noticed something then—
Jack's pupils changed.
His breath slowed.
And for a brief moment…
She felt heat radiate from him.
Not feverish.
Controlled.
Ordered.
Like the steady pulse of a sun rising.
"Jack…" she breathed.
"What are you doing?"
"Breathing," Jack murmured.
"And seeing."
The Transparent World opened for him—arteries glowing faintly, blood flow slowed in his perception, each fracture line sharp as crystal.
Belle didn't know what she was witnessing.
But she felt it.
Something beyond normal surgery.
Something beyond this century.
"Scalpel," Jack said.
Belle handed it with trembling fingers.
The operation began.
The Impossible Procedure
Jack moved with terrifying precision.
Not fast.
Efficient.
Elegant.
Like a dancer performing steps he had practiced a thousand times in another lifetime.
Belle watched in awe as he:
located the torn artery
clipped bleeding with advanced clamps
sutured it with thread finer than spider silk
At one point, the patient screamed—then choked.
"He's crashing!" Belle gasped.
Jack didn't even pause.
"Hold the mask over his mouth. Count his breaths."
Belle obeyed.
She caught herself whispering the count aloud, her voice steadying despite her shaking hands.
"One… two… three…"
Jack worked faster.
Belle realized something then:
He wasn't just saving a life.
He was training her.
Testing her.
Judging her.
When the artery was finally sutured, Jack stepped back.
"Belle," he said softly, "close the wound."
Her eyes shot up.
"Me?!"
Jack nodded.
"Let's see if you're worth teaching."
Belle's hands trembled—then steadied.
Slowly…
Carefully…
She sutured the wound, replicating Jack's movements as best she could.
When she tied the final knot, she exhaled shakily.
Jack inspected it.
A long silence.
Then—
"Hm. Passable."
Belle nearly collapsed with relief.
Aftermath
The patient was wheeled into a recovery cot.
Belle washed her hands, chest heaving.
Jack removed his mask.
His voice was quiet—unusually so.
"You didn't panic."
Belle swallowed.
"I… I thought I would."
"You didn't," he repeated.
"And that matters."
Belle felt warmth rush up her cheeks.
From praise.
Real praise.
Jack turned away, opening the back window to let the night breeze in.
"Belle," he murmured.
"You want to help people."
She nodded.
"But you also want to know the truth. The world behind the lies."
She nodded again.
"Then understand this." Jack looked over his shoulder, eyes sharp as blades.
"What we did here tonight? It will never exist in books. Never be credited. Never be spoken of."
Belle's jaw tightened.
"I know."
"Good." Jack exhaled.
"Welcome to the doctor's world."