Black Sails: Surprise
by mirwalker
11. In the Ribs
In the weeks that followed, few in Nassau had stopped thinking about the Christmas affair.
Of the two young men at its center, Billy was finally the first to act, even as Bastian's response was fast and fierce. In fact, Billy was only Billy was just able to catch the other twisting wrist before whispering, "Careful now! It's just me."
Bastian's shoulders relaxed slightly within the grip of Billy's other arm, as both looked down to see his blade stopped just short of the taller man's gut.
Releasing him entirely, Billy's expression suggested the near stabbing was slightly unexpected; no doubting the skill, just the intention toward this particular target. Despite the shadows of the alley he'd pulled Bastian into, he also noticed that Bastian's cheek was discolored, and the corner of his mouth was spotted with blood.
Bastian sheathed his dagger, accusing instead, "You're following me?"
"Irony," Billy noted irritably, reaching out to examine the bruise. "You've been avoiding me for more than a month, but looks like you've been caught twice tonight."
Batting the hand away, Bastian's own irritation grew at the suggestion he was at fault for any of it. "You've been at sea most of that month. I'm a busy man in me own right. And nights in Nassau ain't friendly for me, even without Randall getting beat again..."
Word had obviously spread quickly about the Walrus quartermaster's even more severe injuries during their costly attack on a Portuguese merchant ship. Though the assailant was known and now dead, it seemed Randall's still unknown fate had revived animosity toward his last, and yet unpunished, accused attacker.
Billy sighed, having hoped until that moment that Flint and Gates had somehow settled that persecution permanently. "Seems there's a lot of unfinished business from Christmas."
Bastian glanced around nervously, trusting Billy hadn't sought him out over Randall, but anxious at their reunion in its own right. "Thanks for getting my cap back to me."
"Couldn't have you running about uncovered, even if I'd rather have returned it in person," Billy's genuine smile faded into concern as he broached their last lack of goodbye. "You took off that morning, knowing it weren't entirely safe out…"
"You mean I didn't hang about while Alice had her way with you?"
"That's not…"
"That's exactly!" Bastian barked, before remembering they were trying not to draw attention to their side street summit.
Billy was incensed in his turn at the abandonment and apparent lack of appreciation. "I shouldn't have to explain to you of all people how she had us over the rail. We owed her for getting you away from that mob—something I couldn't do, and I'm not sure even Flint himself could've pulled off in the end. And for all your sisters' affection, and whosever actual idea it was, we couldn't risk refusing her lest you get sent back to the slaughter…"
"What 'we'?" Bastian squinted and corrected. "It was my neck what was threatened and spared that morning; not yours. You had no part in it until she pulled you in; so it was my debt to pay!"
"Bastian, I would…"
"And you did! No question; no hesitation; no waiting. She offered, and you accepted. Immediately! You… Barely a blink, and you were… with her!" He was nearly spitting with regret and rage.
"To protect you! For you!" Billy shouted, surprising both men with the interruption and its content, before again dropping his voice to affirm, "And while I'd never seek it, I'd do it again, right now. Without question or hesitation. I would do anything to protect those I… I care about."
Bastian's entire body seemed to deflate, as he sighed at what would have been a world-changing confession under any other circumstances. And then he shook his head at the heart-breaking, deeper implication of Billy's admitted affection. "You bloody fool."
"Sorry? How is that a bad thing?"
"It means more than I have words for that you did, that you would. But you didn't have to; you shouldn't have."
Billy's face showed he wasn't following the unexpected despondency.
"The girls saved me from your crew, and wouldn't have turned me back to them for anything. But Alice's had you in her sights for a while now, and used me to get you."
"You don't think she…?" Billy wondered aloud about the entire macabre morning.
"No… Probably not." Bastian's confidence dipped quickly, before he returned to what was certain. "But no matter, whether or not she made it, she made it work for her. She took the opportunity to seal the deal with you—something she hadn't been able to do for months. And all because she knew you wouldn't risk me." His face contorted at the no-win situation, "You've just admitted it, she can use me to get you to do anything; anyone could, simply by putting a mark on me... Because you care, I'm more than bad luck, I'm an actual risk to you now."
"Bastian…" Billy implored with a shake of his head, not caring for where this logic was heading. He stepped forward, taking Bastian's face in his hands.
"Don't get me wrong," Bastian persisted, tracing his hands along the connection as far as he could, "You're a good man, William Manderly; you are. And Lord knows you've been good to me. But if I'm believed an ill omen to most in these waters, we now have proof that I am surely a weakness for you, sure to drag you down with or because of me." He traced his hands back to rest atop Billy's. "Best I can do to repay you, to honor and protect you, is keep my distance. And you need to leave me be." His eyes were full, but no tear escaped as he kept his gaze steadfastly on Billy's troubled face.
Billy gaped at the dilemma they faced, and the conclusion Bastian seemed to have reached on their behalf. Had he gone too far by settling with Alice? Had his attempt to protect Bastian only served to push him away? And regardless, didn't Bastian have a point that a connection between them meant that either could be used against the other? Was the strictly business pretense he'd cleverly created somehow become both not enough for them, and still too much for Nassau?
He stroked the cheeks before him, desperate for some other, positive possibility. "Sebastian?" He leaned in for a kiss to pause the unraveling.
But Bastian pulled himself free of the disbelieving grip, and guided the trembling hands to rest at their owner's side. He leaned in quickly on his toes, and placed a quick peck on Billy's damp cheek. "Coin purse," he whispered, with a glance downward, before stepping away toward the street.
"Bastian?!" Billy protested hoarsely, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small anchor on its cord. "Bastian!"
At the alley's mouth, Bastian glanced back over his shoulder with a sad smile, and then hurled himself out onto the thoroughfare as if thrown there, landing at the feet of several startled passers-by.
Billy stepped after him, alarmed and arms outstretched to help.
But Bastian pulled himself up quickly from the apparent blow, wiped his face, and screamed for all to see and hear, "Well then, fuck you, Billy Bones! Fuck the whole lot of you, and your whoring mothers too!"
Breathing heavily in an attempt to control an entirely unrelated set of emotions, Billy knew he looked the role of agitated attacker given how the ample witnesses looked at him.
Playing up the implied row, Bastian glared at them at all, snatched up his cap, and hurried away with an exaggerated limp, mumbling curses under his breath and raining eyes.
The crowd looked back to the Walrus sailor, seeing his hands still in fists and his countenance even more cross.
"What the fuck are you looking at?" he shouted at them, half-rhetorically, if effectively hurrying them on their way. He ran his fingers over the evidence in his hand, grieving the 'ship that had apparently just run aground. How had it come to this, indeed? And how could he mend it?
No answers handy, he was at least near the tavern…
Five long, morose weeks later, with most crews at sea, Nassau was taking advantage of the relative quiet to handle tasks and projects ahead of the busier spring and summer seasons. At the chandlery, the proprietor was taking an afternoon nap having busily rested all morning; and the young workhorse was grooming the old after the morning's single delivery.
"Mister Bastian?" an approaching voice called.
"A'right, Zeke," Bastian smiled at the younger boy carrying a large basket toward him. "What can I do for you?"
"I've something for you," he explained somewhat unnecessarily, as Bastian put down his brush.
"What is it?"
"I have a good idea; but it's supposed to be a surprise." He set the basket down between them, and tried to peer through the wicker.
"And who sent it?"
"Dunno. Mister Scott set me on the errand, but I gathered he was just passing it along himself." The lad seemed quickly uninterested in the parcel and its particulars, his attention instead turning longingly to the large warehouse beyond his recipient. "I'm just to drop it, and return with the basket."
Curious, but not exactly suspicious, Bastian knew well the younger boy's excitement over the trove of treasures nearby. "Well, it's not every day that you bring me anything, much less a surprise. I suppose that's worthy of some appreciation; don't you?"
The boy's face lit up.
"While I see to my surprise, why don't you go in and find one, small item for your trouble?" The courier didn't wait for a second offer or thought, leaving Bastian to shout after him, "Nothing with a blade, Zeke! And one thing only!"
Amused that anyone should find the piles of junk exciting, Bastian knelt beside the delivery, listening and sniffing for a hint of what it might be.
Puzzled, and ever cautious, he carefully unlatched and threw back the lid. When nothing popped out, he slowly peered in as a high-pitched yawn rippled out. There, uncurling on a thin pile of fabric was a single, mottled and sleepy puppy.
His breath caught on remembering a promised Christmas present, Bastian looked up and around for any audience, finding none.
The little dog stretched and shook itself awake, whimpering and growling together as it also looked up from its carrier toward the watcher above.
Bastian smiled at the puppy's clear indecision between defense and desire, when it both nipped at and nestled in his hands. Drawing it close, he let it have a good sniff of him as he got a good look at it–at him.
The little fellow made a brave stand, licking his face before rolling back and swiping at him with his large paws. That's when Bastian noticed that, tied loosely around his fluffy neck, was a familiar leather cord.
He settled the energetic and exploring pup in his lap, and untied the familiar anchor. Letting the new arrival chew harmlessly on one hand's fingers, he held up and couldn't help but smile at the more dangerous gift of the day.
Zeke came running out with a broken ship's glass, the treasure he'd quickly decided upon as today's payment. "Mister Bastian, I've chosen this, if it's alright. Promise I've taken nothing more…"
"That's wonderful, Zeke. Take the basket too, and my thanks."
"Have you named him?" the boy asked, out of briefly split attention at the growling ball of fur.
"I think I'll call him… 'Ribs.'"
"Funny name for a dog."
"It's perfect for him. On with you now."
Beaming at his good fortune, the youngster all but skipped away with his prize.
Slightly less expressive, Bastian wrestled with and relished his own bittersweet gift.
Nero couldn't have cared less about any of it. Gillespie snored and rolled over above them. And Bastian guessed that, somewhere out on the seas, if not scowling at some unfortunate prize, a certain sailor was smiling on imagining this bittersweet shore scene he'd arranged.