Chapter Text
***
They didn’t speak until sometime later, choosing to bask in the afterglow of their lovemaking in comfortable silence. It was Thomas who finally spoke. Propped up on an elbow on the rugs he pursed his lips together.
“This is right,” he said.
James was surprised when nothing else followed, not his usual transition into a monologue.
“In what way?” James asked at length.
Thomas shrugged. “In every way possible. I’m only sorry we both had to suffer so much for it.”
James said nothing at first. He sighed and intertwined their fingers together, quickly becoming lost in thought. As usual, he struggled to put his thoughts into words, and after some time Thomas attempted to coax the thoughts out of him.
“What is on your mind?” he asked.
“I was just wondering if there was a reason for it all. If I should let myself believe in Fate and that it was all worth it because you’ve been returned to me.”
“And do you? Believe in Fate, I mean?”
Something hardened inside him when he thought to answer the question. He had not thought anything good about Fate for a long time.
“It was one of many beliefs that was destroyed for me,” he replied slowly, fixing his gaze on the bare wooden roof above them. “I have come to believe that people create their own Fate through their actions. That is not very Godly of me, is it?” he added darkly, turning to look at Thomas.
Thomas's gaze was anything but disapproving. “It’s not been a very Godly life for either of us.”
For some reason James suddenly thought of Miranda. He thought of Pastor Lambrick’s visits she had told him about, often with a smile and a crude jest at his expense. She made no attempt to hide the fact that the pastor had affection for her. When he had asked her if she held the same feelings for him, Miranda had shrugged and replied with “He believes himself to be a true man of God. Even if we were to indulge in one another, it would only ever be the one time. He’s the type who would feel ashamed.”
It had been all the explaining she had needed. He remembered the way she had looked at him when she’d said it, had used that word. James shared the recollection with Thomas.
“I don’t know if they were ever together or not,” James finished, the curiosity in his voice following on the heels of his grief. When Thomas did not respond he turned his head. Thomas, still on an elbow, was staring absently at the fur underneath them.
“Thomas?”
He looked up and away from James but not before James saw his own grief there, raw and fresh and filling his eyes with tears.
“I’m sorry,” James said quickly. “I should not have brought it up.”
“No,” said Thomas, letting out a slow sigh. “It’s all right. There’s no reason we should banish her from conversation. That’s the last thing I want to do. Tell me James, were the two of you ever happy there?”
Thomas looked at him in earnest, pain still in his gaze. James felt his chest tighten. He sat up, resting his arms over his bare knees. Thomas sat up beside him.
“It was well over a year, I think, before either of us could begin to live anything resembling a normal life, to begin to feel as though we had a life. I tried…”
He swallowed roughly as the tightness in his chest grew worse. Her death was still like a barely-sealed wound over his heart, and speaking about Miranda and their life in Nassau felt like walking over shards of broken glass.
“I tried to be there for her,” he said, trying to keep his voice from wavering. “I tried to comfort her Thomas, but I’m afraid my own grief was suffocating to us both. What intimacy we did share was mostly for her benefit, and after a while she knew it and I could see it in her eyes…”
He broke off, clenching his teeth together to keep from weeping and trying with all his might to turn his feelings into anger because it had gotten him this far and it was familiar and he knew how to use it…and it wasn’t working now.
“James.”
The single word was filled with heartache. He felt Thomas's hand on his back, lovingly moving to his ribs and resting at his waist as Thomas shifted close to him. He kept his eyes across the room, not trusting himself to look at Thomas just yet.
“Once, she even encouraged me to seek out someone, anyone…a crew member, one of the men who worked at the brothel. I hated that she knew she was not enough. Were we ever happy? There were brief moments, perhaps days, but mostly we lived like two ghosts, haunted by our own past. I was so fucking miserable and I was pulling her down with me. Yet somehow she still loved me, even though I didn’t deserve it.”
Thomas was right next to him, bare leg against bare leg. He wrapped his hand firmly around James's arm and James felt the heat of his gaze, forcing him to turn and meet it.
“Stop it,” said Thomas. “Stop speaking about yourself as though you are worthless. I won’t tolerate it anymore. She loved you because she loved you before, because deep down you were still the same man. And—”
“The things I’ve done, Thom—”
Thomas pushed an index finger firmly against his lips.
“And,” he continued in the same even tone, “You still loved her. Monsters do not love. Monsters take love away; they chew it up and spit it out in the name of petty things such as king and country and money and family titles.”
Thomas still had his finger over James's lips. He removed it. His blue eyes were burning with quiet indignation, and James remembered quite vividly how intimidating Thomas's gaze could be when it was directed at someone who had caught his wrath for whatever reason.
“Is that what you think of England now?” James asked with genuine curiosity. “Of the rest of the civilized world? Have you come to share my thirst for murder and mayhem?” He smirked at Thomas in an effort to lighten his thoughts.
Thomas smiled wanly back at him. He ran a hand through his hair. “I think all those who have wronged me and who I wished dead have already fallen prey to your murder and mayhem. Now there must be order to balance out the chaos.”
James snorted. “There is no order, not really. It’s only an illusion.”
“That may be true, but sometimes the illusion is what matters.”
And with that James finally ran out of words to spar with, even though he knew Thomas was not trying to argue with him; he only, as always, sought to make him think. James felt a sudden and sharp stab of lust for him and he twisted towards Thomas, pushing him back down to the rugs and leaning over him, a hand at either side of his head.
“I love you only for your rhetoric, Lord Hamilton,” he said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk upon his lips. Thomas laughed through his nose. His teeth clashed against James's as James bent down and kissed him.
-----------------------------------------
5 months later
It was early when Thomas awoke. He rolled onto his back on the bed and stretched, then paused to enjoy the soft gray glow of pre-dawn coming in through the sheer curtains. It drenched the bedroom in its dim light. Beside him James stirred but didn’t seem to wake. Thomas rolled over again and allowed himself to study him, admiring how sensual James's back was, bare all the way down to his tailbone, where the sheets just managed to keep him decent. There were the scars, of course, but in an odd way Thomas had grown to love each and every one of them. He had to stop himself from reaching out and tracing them with his finger as he was oft to do when James was awake.
For now he simply gazed at the slumbering form, at the curve of James's ribs as they lowered to the dip in his thigh, all the way back up to his neck and the now thick, reddish hair that was just long enough for a tie again.
James sighed in his sleep, shifting his legs so that the sheet was pulled down further from his back, revealing his rump. Thomas felt his lips automatically curve upward. Opportunity screamed at him and he decided to take it. He gently rolled back over and to the small bedside table. He pulled open the drawer and picked up the vial of oil. After spreading it over his fingers he turned back to face James's unsuspecting backside. He scooted in close and bent forward to lay soft kisses on his neck.
James hummed in the back of his throat, a sleepy, contended sort of sound. Thomas kissed the curve of his neck, allowing his teeth to ever so lightly scrape against the skin there. James hummed again and this time Thomas knew he was awake.
He ran his dry hand along the length of James's side. James involuntarily flinched when his hand reached the sensitive skin under his ribs. There was a sharp intake of breath. Still smiling to himself, Thomas's hand came to his rump, where he switched hands and reached his fingers down to James's cleft, planting stronger kisses along the back of his neck.
James wriggled next to him, letting out a moan when Thomas carefully eased the tips of two fingers inside him, slick with oil. James's shoulder flexed. His hand came up and behind him, grasping. Thomas guided his hand to his cheek, where James ran his hand languidly past it and through his hair. Their eyes still had not met and Thomas was enjoying this game far too much to quit for the usual foreplay.
He eased his fingers all the way up inside James, who moaned louder this time, backside squirming up against Thomas's pressure. Thomas opened and widened him, sucking at the skin on his neck and feeling a twinge of guilt at the bruises he knew would be left there. James had never enjoyed being left with lover’s marks, a fact Thomas occasionally chose to ignore, if only because James would always fix him with the most adorable, disapproving frown once he discovered he had been so marked.
James positively writhed against him now, though their dance was still slow and almost relaxing in the early morning hours. Thomas felt himself grow impatient, his cock straining against his belly as the heat built. And then, at last:
“Thomas.”
The single word, spoken so lovingly and with such vulnerability and lust that his cock ached. He removed his fingers and slid himself inside James, feeling his chest expand and then collapse as a sigh of pure pleasure came out of him when James tightened around him, bucking forward ever so slightly.
They worked themselves into a steady but languid rhythm, still on their sides. James crooked his leg, opening himself as much as he could. Thomas dipped his arm down and wrapped it around James's leg at his thigh and thrusted harder, feeling the heat within him coming to a searing boil. He came first, spilling himself inside James for what seemed like forever. James twisted and grabbed Thomas's hand and pushed it to his own cock, which Thomas worked until James spilled out over the sheets in front of him.
At last James rolled over to his back, facing him. He wore that mushy, nearly ridiculous smile that Thomas adored. Thomas bit his bottom lip to suppress his own grin. He rose up to kiss him. James hummed into his mouth, hands gripping Thomas's ass and squeezing in a haze of slowly fading heat.
Thomas opened his mouth to speak when a knock came from the front door, startling him back into silence. James sat up roughly.
“Who the hell…?”
A muffled voice followed the knocking. Thomas let out a sigh.
“It’s Tolgua.”
“The fucking sun isn’t even up yet,” James growled out, tossing off the sheets and pulling on his breeches. Thomas did the same, hoping that this interruption was for a very good reason. When they opened the door, Tolgua stood there with his spear in place of his staff, his eyes alert and full of concern. Other Calusa men idled behind him.
“There is a great ship in the harbor,” said Tolgua. “And a one-legged man named Silver who asks for you,” he finished, looking at James.
***
They threw on the rest of their clothes and Thomas all but ran out after James. How, Thomas asked, had Silver even found them?
“My maps,” James had growled out as they broke through the woods and onto the beach. “All of them were in my desk drawer on the man o’war. He must have been searching each island.”
“What on earth for?” asked Thomas, at a loss as to why James's old quartermaster would have gone through the trouble.
“Whatever it is, I’m certain I won’t like it,” said James. They rounded the curving shoreline of the beach, following after Tolgua. There, behind a dense cropping of rock and tree, there was indeed a mighty ship, anchored off the shore, but Thomas saw it was not the Spanish warship.
James stopped short, gawking at the ship. Thomas recognized the flash of familiarity that came across his face.
“What the fuck…?”
“What is it?” Thomas asked in earnest.
“It’s the Queen Anne’s Revenge,” replied James, starting off again towards the ship and to where a group of Calusa stood in a loose circle around another group of men.
Thomas blinked. He knew that ship name, knew it as most everyone in England knew it by now.
“That is Blackbeard’s ship?” he asked in disbelief. James didn’t reply. They reached the Calusa, who nodded and parted for them. The small group of men they had surrounded were from the ship, and there stood John Silver in front of them. He carried no crutch but instead stood solidly on an iron-forged peg leg. Thomas watched as he met James's gaze and nodded, then looked to Thomas and did the same.
“Perhaps before we discuss anything you might tell your friends here that we mean no harm,” said Silver, nodding at the Calusa. The other pirates with him all had their hands at their belts, ready to pull out arms and the Calusa all stood in stony silence with their spears ready. It was the same as when he and James had first arrived on the island and Thomas now recognized their wariness.
James glanced over to Thomas, who motioned for Toluga and said to him in a low voice, “These men are known to us and they wish your people no harm. They simply want to talk. They are not staying,” he added after a beat. Obviously he hadn’t a clue if what he spoke was completely true or not, but there was no other way. Luckily this seemed to appease Toluga, who yelled out a word and motioned for his men to follow him. They did not go far but it was far enough to give the pirates some room. Silver glanced behind him and the men relaxed.
“I won’t be long,” he said to them, leaving them with a launch boat as he followed him and James further down the beach. Once the three of them were alone Silver threw a questioning look to him. Thomas fixed him with a steady gaze. Silver then raised an eyebrow at James, who had tucked his thumbs under his belt and said simply, “He stays. Now what the fuck are you doing here?”
Thomas took a moment to look at Silver, who had changed in subtle yet obvious ways since last time he had laid eyes on the man. His black, curly hair was down past his shoulders now, and a thicker black beard covered his chin. He had a dark blue piece of cloth wrapped around tightly around his head, dark blue eyes sharp. Thomas digested all of this and turned it into words: Serious. And dangerous.
Then the effect dissolved when Silver let loose a grin at James. The smile broadened when he fixated on James's neck, and Thomas frowned. He had left a mark there.
“Well,” said Silver. “While you and Mr. Hamilton have apparently been buggering each other into bliss on this little island, some of us have been working hard to reclaim what is ours.”
It was hardly a revelation to any of them that Silver had figured the two of them out, yet even so Thomas half expected James to reach out and grab him by the throat. Silver must have thought the same because he backed up a tiny step. Instead, James simply huffed and rolled his eyes.
“Get to it.”
Silver licked his lips and glanced back at the Queen Anne.
“Suffice it to say much has happened since we lost you at Harbor Island. We returned to New Providence and re-joined with Vane. We engaged Captain Horingold and Dufresne. Dufresne is dead, but afterwards Hornigold evaded us and left the harbor. The reason he did so was the timely approach of a particular ship and her captain,” he said, eyes once again flashing to the Queen Anne.
“Teach,” said James.
Silver nodded. “And he came bearing gifts—a one Ms. Guthrie, having been taken from one of Hume’s fleet ships Teach had intersected on his way back to Nassau.”
“She’s alive, then?”
“Alive and with Vane on board the Ranger now.”
“And Nassau?”
“Crawling with the British navy, but without any leader, since Hume and the Scarborough can do little more than circle around like vultures from a distance. We have your man o’war to thank for that.”
“Mr. Silver,” said Thomas as soon as he could. “As interesting as this is—and believe me when I tell you it is—I have no doubt you wish to include James in whatever point it is you’re coming to, so perhaps you could hurry up and get to it?”
Silver’s eyes flashed at him. “How I’ve missed our little discussions, Thomas.”
He turned back to James and quickly continued. “I’m here because, simply put, we need you. Nassau needs you.”
James huffed again but before he could protest Silver held up a hand.
“Look, just give me another moment to finish explaining. We have almost everything we need to re-take the island. We’ve managed to protect the Walrus and the gold thus far, as well and rid her of both Jack Rackham and Anne Bonny.”
James raised his eyes. “You’ve re-taken the gold?”
“Not quite. But we do have the next best thing. Look.”
He pulled a spyglass from inside his coat and handed it to James, who raised it towards the Queen Anne’s Revenge.
“The little bastard,” he said, jaw tight.
“What?” asked Thomas. James handed him the scope. Thomas peered through it, eyes searching the deck of the ship and landing on two figures that stood at the railing. One was a lean-looking man with a tricorn hat and the other a woman, dressed as a man and with a broad-brimmed hat. They were both gagged at the mouth and their wrists were bound. The man lifted his hands up and waved at him, while the woman lifted her middle finger.
“Charming, isn’t she?” said Silver, who could see the gesture from a distance.
“You have Rackham and Bonny on Blackbeard’s ship. Why?” asked James.
“Because it was the only ship not damaged in the skirmish against Hornigold, and because Teach is in Nassau this very moment, pretending to negotiate with one of Hume’s lieutenants.”
“Why would he—“
“Because he is stalling, waiting for me to return with you; waiting for us to track down Hume and blowing the living hell out of him, to take back Nassau.”
Silver spoke his words with same passion and tenacity Thomas recognized in himself; a quality that could move even the most stubborn man into at least considering his proposal, and one look at James told him that was exactly what James was doing.
He realized that now was as good a time as any to tell James what had been on his mind of late; the thing that had been nipping and gnawing at him ever since they had settled down here.
“Mr. Silver, will you excuse us for a moment?”
Silver nodded and gave a half bow while Thomas pulled James away.
“James, this presents me with an opportunity to tell you something I’ve wanted to voice for a while.”
James's sea green eyes searched his. Thomas saw the flicker of fear just underneath the surface. Thomas would put it to rest—he hoped.
“I’ve seen the way you gaze out at the sea. I know you’re thinking about it, about being out there again. You miss it.”
The fear flickered into a shadow. “Thomas, I would never leave you—“
“No,” he said softly, cutting him off. “I know that. Not what I meant. I only mean that…”
He trailed off, finding a rare occasion in which his tongue was twisted. He took a deep breath and began again.
“I too have wondered about the outside world, about Nassau. Just because we’ve built something here does not mean we must stay here forever. I don’t expect you to give up on the sea or even on Nassau. In a way Silver is right—all we’ve done since we’ve arrived here is to be wound up in one another, with no real purpose.”
The shadow of fear did not quite go away. James reached out and took his hand, looking down at it.
“I don’t want you to think you have to sacrifice your happiness for mine,” he said softly, sounding wounded. “I won’t let you become what I am.”
“And what is that?”
“A pirate. A killer. I won’t, Thomas. If we go with Silver, you’ll be sucked into that world.”
“I’m already branded a criminal. This part of the world is my home as much as it is yours,” replied Thomas. “And I know you think of Nassau as more than a home; you think of it as yours. You needn’t say it.”
At this James looked up at him with genuine surprise. Thomas gave him a weak smile.
“I thought so. I don’t intend on becoming a pirate, James, just as I’m sure you didn’t intend on spending the rest of your days doing nothing but hunting, talking to natives, and bedding me, as appealing as that scenario may sound.”
James let out a sigh and turned away from him and to the sea, hands on his hips.
“You would want to go, then?” he asked at length, turning back around. “You would want to join Silver and actually attempt this mad plan of his?”
“As I said, this place is my home now. Neither one of us ever had a chance to fight for our home in London.”
“It was not my home, Thomas.”
“James.”
Thomas didn’t hide the reproach in his voice. He saw that James knew the lie in his words as soon as he’d spoken them. The old pain was there again, though for some reason Thomas felt its sting just as keenly this time. He put a hand on James's arm.
“I would like to help you fight for this,” he said. “I think it’s worth it, don’t you?”
James hesitated, then said, “Back in London, when Miranda was urging me not to go to the sea lords with our proposal, I told her that anything that has ever been worth doing is worth doing in the face of a little danger.”
He looked at Thomas through his brows and smiled, eyes dancing. Thomas felt his heart skip a beat. It was the first time James had shared a memory without it bruising him. Instead, he’d turned into something positive.
“Very well then,” Thomas said, calm as ever.
They returned to Silver, who was squatting just beyond the tide’s reach, gazing out at the horizon. He rose to meet them.
“We’ll come,” said James. “Under a few conditions.”
“Such as?”
“I’m captain of the Queen Anne until I get my ships back. You will be quartermaster again.”
“Ships, as in more than one?”
“The Walrus is still my ship. As is the man o’war, which I’ve given a name to.”
James paused and looked at Thomas, eyes bright. He looked back at Silver and said, “The Marcus Aurelius.”
Thomas beamed silently at him while Silver looked dumbfounded.
“You realize most of the men won’t even be able to pronounce that?”
James shrugged. “I’m not naming it for them. And secondly,” he continued smoothly, “Thomas is to be re-introduced as an old ally of mine from the Virginia colony, whose purpose is aligned with ours in re-taking Nassau. He is to be treated equally as a crew member.”
James turned to Thomas.
“That means you’ll share in ship duties…”
Thomas nodded without hesitation. “I’ll do whatever is required of me.”
James nodded.
“Um, excuse me,” Silver chimed. “About the question of captaincy…”
“It’s not a question,” James snapped.
Delicately, Silver smiled. “It is, actually. You see, Teach left me in charge of his ship, and the crew is quite…comfortable with me as captain until he returns to it.”
There was that dangerous element to Silver’s eyes again as he spoke but also something Thomas could only call respect there. The two men looked at one another for a long beat. Then James looked the younger man up and down, taking in what Thomas had—the hair, the beard, the look in his eyes.
“You’ve become a bloody pirate at last,” he growled under his breath. This time Silver did not smile impishly but instead nodded as though it were a compliment. James seemed to take that in, as well.
“Very well,” he said at last. “You are captain of the Queen Anne until it is returned to Teach.” He offered Silver his hand. Silver took it and they shook. James pulled on Silver’s hand, pulling the other man towards him so that their faces were close. His next words surprised even Thomas and they certainly shocked Silver.
“I’m glad you decided not to help Rackham take the gold. A terrible mistake you would have no doubt come to regret. Now let’s see if you can’t keep your honesty and see us all succeed in this.”
Silver openly gaped at James, mouth struggling to form words. James waited patiently, slowly releasing his grip on Silver’s hand. Silver recovered himself, closing his mouth and standing straighter, though he gave James an apologetic look.
“You would have tracked me down and killed me, I know,” he said. “It’s as you said before,” he said, voice growing soft. “Charlestown changed things.”
Thomas didn’t understand what passed between them then, but it seemed to be all Silver needed to say because James only nodded, meeting his gaze.
“When will you be ready?” Silver asked.
James turned to Thomas with the question. Thomas thought for a moment.
“I don’t see any reason we couldn’t leave tomorrow.”
James turned back to Silver.
“Tomorrow.”
Silver nodded. “I’ll tell the men.”
And he took off, the iron peg of his right leg scarcely impeding his gait.
“John.”
Silver paused and turned around. Thomas watched as James bent down and dug his fingers into his right boot. He pulled out something small. Silver walked a few paces towards him. James held the object between his index and thumb and showed it to Thomas. Thomas recognized it.
“I’ll be damned,” he murmured. “Is it the same coin?”
“It is.”
James held the gold escudo Admiral Hennessy had given him all those years ago, the same coin that was said to be a replica of de Mendoza’s treasure. He tossed it to Silver, who caught it and looked at it, then looked at James. James simply shrugged. Silver gave him an odd grin, tucking the coin inside a breast pocket and then turning back towards the launch boat.
Thomas looked at him, mouth slightly hung open in disbelief.
“How long have you had that in your boot?” he asked.
“The last eleven years,” said James casually. “I cut a slit in the leather, just below the cuff. The most secure place for it.”
Thomas laughed out loud at him.
“And you decide to randomly toss it off to Silver?”
James looked at him pointedly. “It was weighing me down.”
Thomas grinned. “You’ve become a philosopher at last.”
“Come on,” said James, lips twitching upward. “We’ve got to start packing.”
Together they walked along the beach, both excited but neither hurrying. The sun finally broke through the treetops in the east; a large yellow ball that cast a blue-pink glow in the sky as a new day dawned.
Thomas greeted the morning with hope as he had not felt in years.
James greeted it much the same. He imagined, briefly, the sun’s rays obliterating all the shadows and cobwebs and ghosts that had stayed crowded around him for so long, of the constant tangle of emotions that sat in his gut dissolving into nothingness. He imagined, as they crossed back into the woods, this day was a day of firsts for him; he would be like a snake that shed its old skin in place of a newer, better skin.
The snake was still a snake, but it could change. He could change. He would struggle always, but he would persevere.
By the time they had reached the house James felt something new swell in his chest. He would have Nassau again, but this time he would also have Thomas by his side. Time could be cruel, but Time could also be forgiving. He would have everything he had ever wanted, that they had ever reached for.
He entered the house, head buzzing and heart swelling. He would have it all, to be sure…even as he knew he would have to fight to keep it.
Let them come, he thought. Let them try to take it away from me now.
He would fight to keep Nassau; he would fight to keep Thomas, just as he knew Thomas would fight to keep him. It was as though he felt the world shift under his feet; the stars in the sky had re-aligned themselves to form something as close to perfection as he could have ever hoped for, ever dared to dream about and all the guilt and shame were stripped away. And that was how it should be, he thought at last.***
End.
Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls;
the most massive characters are seared with scars.
--Khalil Gibran