27. A Little Em-Ocean-Al
A Little Em-Ocean-Al
Returning to my duties feels impossible. Though I try to tamp down the dread, our story is coming to a close, and the last dregs of it are slipping through my hands and into the water as we sail toward Nassau.
The days are dwindling, my time with him growing shorter and shorter, and I want to pull him toward the bed in his cabin, tuck him into my side, and never let go.
But I don’t. I put on a brave face, working until my hands are bleeding and my muscles ache and my clothes are soaked through with ocean spray, and I smile when Silas catches my eye across the deck.
I want whatever time we have left to be the best he’s ever had, and to do that, I need to shelve my worries and focus on us. On him.
Although I’m used to a bit of awkwardness after laying all of myself bare, touch feels like the natural progression with him. His fingers skim over the back of my hand as I walk past; he catches me in the hall leading to the mess and tugs me into the ammunitions room for a not-so-quick kiss.
At night we curl into his cot and I tell him about my time, about Louise.
About growing up and going to school in the Pacific Northwest and then moving to London, my travels, the places I’ve been and the people I’ve met, and all the ways the world evolves in the next three hundred years.
There’s a softness to his expression when I tell him about the changes in the coming centuries, and it seems to make him more appreciative of what he does have, of the person he gets to be, here and now, free on these waters.
I think more than a week has passed since we left the island. Charlotte is long gone, and despite the increased crew aboard the ship, there’s an almost hectic energy about them all as we steer toward Nassau.
“What has everyone on edge?” I ask Jack as I follow him down to the hold.
“Charlotte drank through most of the liquor.”
I pause on the steps leading down to the hold as Jack scours the dark. “The crew is on edge because…”
“They only ’ave ale.”
Pirates, I think, and I press my lips together to keep from laughing.
“And the crew doesn’t know what to do with so much free time, you understand?
” He holds up something in his left hand, a bottle of that sharp brown liquid we drank on the beach.
“For months, this crew ’as worked extra ’ard to pick up after the raid, but now that we ’ave a full crew?
” He shakes his head. “They don’t know what to do with themselves. ”
“Pirates don’t know how to relax, do they?”
He cocks a brow. “We don’ even know the word.” He hands me the bottle and motions up the stairs. “Make sure it makes the rounds, will you?”
I pass it around, sloshing a bit in each of their tankards. By the time I’ve made the rounds, the large bottle is empty, and nearly everyone looks pleasantly buzzed. Damn, this stuff really does work wonders.
I start toward the stairs, bottle in hand, but someone bumps into me, and it goes flying across the deck. I reach for it, but my fingers only meet air as it crashes against the deck into a million glass shards.
“Fuck,” I curse as I scramble to clean up the mess.
“Sorry ’bout that, mate.” Hux stands over me as he takes in the mess. “Bit clumsy, are we?”
“You don’t have to be such a shit about it, Hux. You could help me.” I drop a few pieces of glass into my palm.
“I could,” he says with a shrug before disappearing down to the mess.
“Don’t mind him,” Mick says as he stoops next to me and helps, carefully scooping up glass and depositing it in his open palm. “Hux is just a little shit.”
“Bit of an understatement.”
When he’s done, he drops the glass into my hand and stands with a groan. “And you, Laszlo. How are you?”
“I’m okay.” I don’t know if he can see it in my expression, the anger, the sadness, but if he does, he doesn’t mention it. Glancing down at the glass in my hand, I notice with a sigh the small cut along my palm from the fragments.
“I think you could use a bit of cheering up, hmm?”
This crew … How will I ever say goodbye?
“I’d like that,” I say, smiling.
I drop the glass into a burlap sack and follow him down into the mess.
It’s loud and rowdy, and it feels strange for this ship to be so full of laughter.
But it also feels right. The tables are crowded with people, and the crew is laughing, even the newcomers.
For the first time since I appeared here, there is a sense of peace.
Mick leads me to one of the only open spots at the end of a swaying table and passes me a tankard with the amber liquid. And as I lift it with a weak smile to the people surrounding me, there’s nothing I want more than to tell them the truth.
There is simply too much life here for it to be wiped away, and I don’t want these people to die.
“Tarly!” someone calls. “Won’t you play us a song?”
The musician sits two tables down, perched on the end as he plucks lazily at his instrument. His worn and battered fingers waggle playfully as he poises them over the strings. He glances up, the corner of his lips curling as he takes in the waiting crowd.
“Ah, why not!”
The crew cheers as he slides off the bench and steps up onto a swaying table. People bang their tankards and mugs, the crew riotous and impatient as Tarly adjusts the tuning slowly. He knows full well that they’ll wait until he’s ready.
“Any requests?” he asks.
“Play us a love song, won’t you?” someone asks.
I find Astra at the other end of my table, smiling softly down at their tankard.
They’ve been smiling a lot more since they enacted their revenge.
Maybe for some people, killing is the only way to move on from the past, to heal.
They glance up and meet my gaze, lifting their ale in a silent cheers before taking a long pull.
Tarly grins as he scours the mess. “Always enjoy a good love song.”
With a flourish of his fingers and wistful look over our heads, he plucks out a tune and begins to sing, his voice full of humor and melodrama.
It’s been ten long years
Since our crew came to land
My lady’s since fled.
Taken in by ’nother man.
My bed’s now cold,
Alone I do shiver,
But when I spot her face,
It’s to her I do wither.
Lady, oh lady, what shall I do
Won’t you take me in, abandoned by my crew
Lady, oh lady, however might you see
I’m just a lonely man, spit up by the sea.
I feel a hand at my shoulder and crane my neck back to see who it is. Silas smiles down at me.
“Silas—” I start.
He lifts a finger to his lips and nods to Tarly as he plucks at the strings. “Don’t want to interrupt the man’s playing, now do we?”
“Paul, you ratty dog,
Get up off your knees.”
“No,” I beg to her
“Won’t you stay with me, please.”
And after three long years
Of groveling at her feet,
She lifted my head
And kissed me on the cheek.
Lady, oh lady, what shall I do
Won’t you take me in, abandoned by my crew
Lady, oh lady, however might you see
I’m just a lonely man, spit up by the sea.
Lady oh lady, however might you see
I’m just a lonely man, spit up by the sea.
He strums out the last notes, and the crew cheers, quieter and more reserved than before.
Tarly bows and hops off the table, taking up his drink once more.
My hands tighten around my tankard as Silas squeezes my shoulder.
This may be the last time I hear one of Tarly’s songs, the last time I get to celebrate with this crew aboard the ship.
The voices rise again, and I slide off the bench, standing. “Where have you been?” I ask, leaning toward Silas.
He tilts his head toward the hall leading from the mess. “Not here.”
Frowning, I set down my tankard and follow him. He leads me past the ammunitions room and the livestock, straight to his cabin. Silas closes the door behind me, and I turn toward him, but before I can ask what’s wrong, he nudges me back against the door, kissing me.
My arms automatically wrap around him and tug him closer as my hands tangle in his long, unruly hair. He’s wearing it down today, and his scent is even stronger, making me dizzy as he engulfs me.
One of his hands goes to the door beside my head, the other finding the groove of my hip and digging in.
His touch is intoxicating, and when I moan against him, he swallows the sound down with his lips.
But there is something off about this kiss, about the urgency with which he is reaching down for the tie of my pants.
“Hey,” I gasp, pulling away from him. He surges forward, but I cover his mouth with my hand, holding him off. “Silas, stop. What’s going on? What’s this about?”
His voice is muffled against my skin as he says, “I thought it was obvious.”
I laugh. “I mean, yes, it is, but why now? Are you okay?” I motion to him. “As much as I love … you know, kissing and stuff, this feels different.”
He sighs and steps back. Running a hand through his hair, he walks toward the windows and stops before his desk. Picking up a quill, he toys with it, plucking the feather, refusing to look at me. “Laszlo, we’re about to make land.”
Oh.
Oh.
Now everything is clear. I felt that in the kiss, and it puts all his mannerisms, all his touches in perspective. Could he sense my dread? Did he know the date was nearly upon us? I’ve been trying my best to hide it, but I must not have tried hard enough.
Land. Nassau. I can see the end of the tunnel, and now I wish I’d stayed in the dark.
“I see,” I whisper. He angles away from me as he rummages along his desk, setting aside the quill pen. His hair cascades over his shoulder, hiding his face from view. “Silas,” I say, taking a step toward him. “Silas, will you please look at me?”
His hands grip the edges of his desk, shoulders hunched as he leans forward. “I don’t want to say goodbye.”
It feels like my heart is snapping in two. “Silas…”
“I know I told you it’s what needs to happen, but the closer we get to it, the more difficult it is.”
I tuck his hair behind his ear, my finger lingering. He glances at me sidelong before straightening.
“It was some solid reasoning,” I say as I wrap my arms around his waist. “I hate to admit it, but you weren’t wrong. I shouldn’t be tampering with history.”
Even if I’ve already tampered with him.
Silas tilts his head at me, his lips pouting. He takes me in, surveying me as if this is the last time he’ll see me. And it probably is. Today’s probably our last day together.
“It’s been fun, hasn’t it? Your time aboard my ship?” he asks.
It physically hurts to look at him, but I do, soaking in every bit of him, admiring him. Peeling his hand from the desk, I run my fingers over his knuckles, sliding my thumb over his cat ring, admiring the little details.
“It’s been the best time of my life,” I tell him. I’m not exaggerating; I’m not lying. It’s the simplest truth I’ve ever spoken.
God, what has he done to me?
There’s a knock at the door, and the sudden sound jars us from the quiet of this cabin. “Cap’ain?” Jack calls, voice muffled by the wood. We both turn to the door, and my heart is sinking as Jack says, “Land.”
One word, but it’s enough. Enough for me to know that despite everything I’ve done to stay here at his side, to show him that we could have a future in my present, I can’t rewrite history.
I spent so long thinking I would be alone forever, but now he’s here, and I’m just supposed to give up on this?
But this is it. This is goodbye. Fuck, I can’t do this. I can’t do this, and I don’t want to do this. It hurts; it hurts too much.
I move to leave, but Silas reaches out and captures my hand. “One more night?” he asks hurriedly. “Spend one more night with me.”
Keep it together, Laszlo. Just keep it together. Tears threaten as I nod and cover his hand with mine.
“Never thought you’d ask.”