This is un-beta'd, so all mistakes are my own. Sorry in advance for that.
As soon as Flint's ship is spotted on the horizon, Eleanor sends for Vane. The purse with heavy coin sits perfectly in the middle of her wooden desk, her blue eyes settled on the dark leather intensely while her thoughts wander as she waits. She thinks of Max; remembers blood and screams and blame. Remembers love unspoken, her lips and hands and tongue painting the emotion upon Max's skin nightly.
She may never have said the words out loud, but she's never loved quite so desperately in her life before. Or so truly. Her silence and hesitation had cost her that love, surely, but it doesn't for one minute mean it didn't exist. It's a small, empty comfort, but Eleanor has learned to appreciate even that in the last few months. Comfort in any form has been lacking in her life since Max had abandoned her in the middle of the night. Not that she blames Max, she can't really. Not for having a dream as beautiful as them having a life together. She had the same dream after all.
The hefty coin purse before her will give Max the freedom she had always longed for, give her a chance at a life she chose for herself, but Eleanor is under no illusion that that life will be shared with her anymore. She killed that dream herself, inadvertent as it may have been, when Vane's men had taken so heartlessly what had not belonged to them. For that barbaric act Eleanor owes so much more, but this is the one thing she is now capable of giving Max.
When Vane pushes through her door she straightens her shoulders and swallows down her own heartbreak. She will not give him the joy of seeing her sadness, her weakness. After today, after Flint docks and gives her her share of that damned treasure, she will never have to look at another man and know that just because there is no cock between her legs she is weaker than him. The treasure will bring power and power will bring the equality that she has craved since the day she was old enough to understand a woman's place in this world.
"Max's debt paid in full."
She doesn't say much else, just flings the heavy purse against Vane's chest and watches as his fist curls around it.
"You're buying your whore back then, are you?"
Eleanor doesn't flinch at the word even though the anger that rushes through her when Max is described as such is always blazing and painful.
"You still don't understand, do you? She was never my whore and after today she won't be anyone else's either. Set her free. Where she goes after that is no one's choice but hers." She doesn't give him the opportunity to say anything else, just flicks her wrist towards her still open door. "Now get the fuck out."
He doesn't leave immediately, just stands there for a very long time looking at her like he really is trying to understand. He cares about her as much as a bastard of his kind can, she knows this, but whatever feeling he ever managed to invoke within her died that night when she first recognized Max's screams.
"I don't understand you, Eleanor."
She gives a humorless laugh at this and nods in agreement.
"True, and you never will."
He leaves then and Eleanor waits. Max will not come, she knows this, but Flint will and with it he will bring her the means to make the last sad dream she has come true. The unloving sand will be hers, because it is all that she has left.
She tries her very best not to cry.
The sun is low on the horizon, the harbor a flurry of activity around her as she watches Flint's men unload crate upon crate onto the docks. She does not know what riches are hidden in those crates, nor does she care much, but for the last few months she has watched Flint and Eleanor's plans come together and this seems to be the culmination of it all.
Nassau has changed in such a short time and Max has watched most of it happen. There is anticipation amongst the men and the number of gunships has increased tenfold. Every dirty, rotten pirate scum has heard of Flint's insane dream and made it their own. Most are willing to die for this dream, something that Max does not understand, because at the end of the day the only thing that will change for them is that they will bend the knee to a different master. She does not believe Flint will be any kinder than the English.
She turns her back on the mess of movement and watches the ocean, the sound of heavy boots hitting the deck of little concern to her. Only when a hand roughly jerks her around again does she pay any attention to Vane.
"What is it about you that makes you any better than me? You're a whore, you'll suck any cock that can pay for it, but it's always you. She always chooses you. Come, tell me, what magic is hidden in the depths of that worn out cunt of yours that blinds her so?"
He isn't nearly half as angry as his words would imply he is. If anything, there's something much like loss written across his face. She knows he's been to see Eleanor, heard when Mr Scott informed him that Miss Guthrie had something of great importance to discuss with him, and can only guess what was said.
"Whatever magic Max may possess, in her cunt or elsewhere was never enough to sway Eleanor Guthrie. I think this is something we both know."
He snorts and shoves her hard, but she keeps her feet steady and does not fall. She is surprised when seconds later he pulls a leather purse from his belt and throws it at her, the weight of it surely leaving a bruise when it forcefully hits her shoulder.
"For all that you keep saying that, it's never going to be the fucking truth, is it? She chose years ago and we both know that. I just happen to know she made a shit choice, because I may not fucking understand her, but Christ knows you aren't any better in that respect than I."
Max wants to protest, because Eleanor has shed tears and fears alike against the curve of her neck and she knows her, but Vane's hand around her throat cuts off any word she may speak.
"She's paid your debt and I take much pleasure from knowing how much you hate that."
Max swallows with difficulty, tries to deny the truth of Vane's words, but she can't and it's written all over her face. It must be, because there is such pleasure in the smile that Vane gives her before removing his hand from her throat.
"I will not go back to her, no matter what she paid for me. You can return the money and tell her that."
He laughs then, long and loud. It is not a pleasant sound, nor is the look in his eyes when he finally settles down and faces her again.
"As I said, you have no fucking idea what goes on in that head of hers, do you? At least you save me from finding a way to hurt her as much as she deserves. Loving you seems to be a painful punishment enough." He points down to where the leather pouch lies beside her foot. "Take that and get the fuck off my ship. Where you go is of no consequence to me or Eleanor."
She isn't sure he won't slit her throat the moment she takes her eyes off him, but she reaches down anyway. She reaches, because either way there is freedom to be found. Max is not afraid of death, there is beauty in letting go, and if she lives she'll take the money and make her own future.
Scott watches carefully as Flint comes not long after Vane goes. He is as uneasy about Eleanor's arrangement with the man as he was from the very first moment and today of all days he knows there is reason to worry. If all goes to plan they will appoint Flint governor today and Eleanor will declare her independence from her father. Flint will own the island and Eleanor will own its trade.
The only problem with this is that deep down Scott knows that Flint is no different from any other pirate that has ever set foot on this island: he is not kind, he does not share willingly and he will not regret the actions he takes to obtain power.
He watches as they talk alone for some time, Eleanor at first seated but later up and pacing the room as she gestures angrily. When Flint abruptly turns to close the door of Eleanor's rooms he catches Scott's eyes for a moment. That single moment is enough.
Scott does not hesitate a moment longer. There are four or so of Flint's men inside the tavern, so he does not bother to storm the door even though the impulse to do so is strong. Instead he turns and heads outside, hopes he has enough time to stop what is surely about to happen.
Anne is watching over Max quietly as she packs what little she has. It is only some clothes, some dry rations that she has saved from their last trip, but it's hers and she will not leave it on this boat. Rackham is above deck with Vane, their voices faint as it mingles with the sound of water slapping against the side of the boat.
"Where will you go?"
Max does not know, so she does not answer. She knows Anne will not take offence, their short time together has taught her that much about the woman. She will not miss a thing about being on this boat, but if she had to it would be Anne Bonny's company.
"You have been a good friend to Max. Thank you."
Anne makes an embarrassed sound and does not reply, but Max had not expected anything else. Even if Anne had wanted to, she would not have been given the chance. There is the pounding of heavy feet on the deck above them and then a desperate plea that even they can hear clearly where they are stood.
"Captain Vane! You must come and bring men, I beg of you! You must come or they will kill her!"
Everything twists inside her when she recognizes the voice of Mr Scott. It is painful and nauseating all at once, but she ignores it in favor of running as fast as she is capable of up the stairs. She is somewhat comforted by Anne's presence close behind her.
"The fuck are you on about, man?" Vane's voice is clipped and unkind, but even Max can hear the underlying sound of reluctant concern in it.
"Flint will not keep his word, he will not share with Eleanor what he promised and she will not stand for it. You know it as well as I do and you know what he will do to her, you know it! Please come, please, help her if it's not too late already."
She has known Scott as long as she has Eleanor and in all that time he has always been a quiet, contained man. The man before her is drenched in sweat from running and clearly awash with desperation, enough so that she instantly believes him. Dread as cold as night slides down her spine.
"That bloody idiot woman! That fucking, idiotic…" Vane runs out of words, but his frustration is clear.
Max does not wait to hear if he will help, cannot wait really as her heart is beating so painfully in her chest and she cannot ignore what it is asking her to do. She runs. She runs as fast as she ever has in her life, because she may hate Eleanor Guthrie for what she did to Max, but she also still loves her. You cannot hate someone so much if you did not love them even more at first.
"Head for the back and for God's sake, be quiet about it when we get there."
Anne's voice sounds out of breath when it comes from somewhere behind her and Max almost trips in surprise when she hears it, but then a hand steadies her and she nods her thanks to Rackham. Vane, Scott and two more men are close on their heels and for a second she catches Vane's eyes, sees her own fear reflected in them.
When they get there, sweat soaked and out of breath, Max finally realizes she has no weapon. She fists her hands in frustration, but then her fingers are pried open and a dagger is placed against her palm.
Vane's eyes are mere blue slits when she looks up.
"She didn't expect you to come back to her. She just wanted you to be free, finally."
Every piece of her that somehow managed to remain whole during the last few months finally shatters.
Eleanor tries to breathe deeply, but it seems as if the air has been dampened, every breath a wet labor across her reddened lips. She can taste the metallic tang of her own blood, wonders idly if it's from her split lip or if she's unknowingly coughed it up.
"If I did not respect you as much as I did any man, I would have let you go. I know it's no kind of comfort to hear that, but I thought it would mean something to you. I think we both know it is unfair you were born a woman when you had all the ambitions of a man." He looks at her for a long time, his brows thoughtfully knotted. "Maybe killing you is a kindness of sorts."
She closes her eyes and cries, hands pressed tightly to the wound in her side. She does not want to see his face if it's to be the last moment of her life. Not when there are more pleasant memories locked away behind her closed lids. Not when she could imagine Max's smile, imagine the feel of her skin or the taste of her mouth as it moved against her own.
"We have…very different ideas…" She swallows, eyes closed tightly as she pictures the exact shape and color of Max's eyes. "of what…kindness…is."
Flint's bark of laughter comes as if from far away, like the sound was dulled by water. Maybe it is, maybe Eleanor herself is submerged deep beneath the ocean she thinks. It feels as such when she tries to move her arm, feels that heavy tug on her muscles like she's being restrained by the weight of water. It's just as cold too.
"I wish for you to know that if there is one thing I will regret, it is what I am about to do. I genuinely believe that in a different time and place you and I would have been great friends."
She does not dignify his insane rambling with a reply, does not have the breath left to do so anyway. If he buries his blade in her again, she does not know it. She is so cold and so tired and everything hurts. She just wants to sleep.
To sleep and dream of Max, dream of a life they could have had. Dream of love and freedom and…
Her thoughts quiet.
She sleeps.
I might add another chapter, but as it is I kind of like leaving it where it is. I don't even know, I don't usually write crap as sad as this, so maybe I'll fix it later.