A/N: So to begin I apologize for it being about a year since I last updated. Life intervened and this chapter proved far more difficult than I anticipated. But I would like to thank the wonderful reviewers who continued to remind me of their interest in teh story and force me to finish the chapter, without which I may have kept editing it until next yera ;) So thank you to all of you who reviewed and Private Messaged me, this chapter is for you guys!

So with no further ado (except to say I do not own the characters from Harry Potter ;)), here is the next chapter.

Chapter 20: Selfishness

James ground his palm into his red rimmed eyes, smothering a yawn before dropping his hand to the marked map spread across the desk. They had been through most of the log books since setting sail, yet James could see no pattern except that Riddle seemed to have frequented the lower ports more often than any along the northern coast of England.

He dragged an open log book toward him and turned several pages, running his fingers down the smeared names along the edges. The words blurred slightly in his sleep deprived eyes and James forced himself to blink several times in order to keep his wits. Finally he was forced to lift his head from the book only to have his eyes fall on Lily sitting on the floor, her back to his bed and a log book open in her lap.

Her red hair had been hastily tied back though loose strands fell along the back of her neck and across her cheeks. Her clothes were wrinkled from sleeping in them the night before and even from across the room James recognized her own concealed yawn. He watched as her nose wrinkled and her delicate finger turned the page before tucking a lock of red hair behind her ears. A forgotten smile tugged at the corner of James' lips, but he instinctively smothered it and dropped his eyes back to the dancing words across the page.

His mind refused to focus on the scripted words beneath him. The weight on his shoulders lingered, the implication of failure an echo in his head and a clanging bell in his ears. But the anger and guilt from earlier had faded to a dull thrum, smothered in her presence. Despite there being no plan, no clear destination, and no clue he could cling to for hope, he could cling to her. James' gaze twitched back to the woman who sat nearby. For the moment, it would have to be enough.

His hand drifted to a drawer on his desk, from which he pulled a dusty round bottle with a long neck. The amber liquid sloshed softly as he set the bottle on the far corner of his desk. At the sound, Lily dragged her eyes from the book. Her eyebrows arched slightly as she looked past the bottle to the man sitting behind the desk watching her. The corner of James' lips twisted upward, surrendering to a tired, half smile that coaxed Lily to her feet. She walked to the edge of the desk, set the log book down, and picked up the bottle with a casual hand. She turned the bottle over between her hands, eyeing the liquid pressed against the glass. Leaning a hip against the desk, she held up the bottle.

James shrugged a shoulder, sinking into the back of the chair and letting his hands rest on his knees. Her lips twisted into a small smile as Lily moved around the corner of the desk. James shifted back to give her room as she sat across his lap.

Lily pulled the cork from the bottle and placed it behind her on the desk. James' hands crept around her waist, holding her shoulder against his chest. Lily took a small sip of the liquid, letting it burn down her throat and smolder through her breast to linger in her stomach. She watched James lift the bottle to his own lips, taking a longer drink and swallowing hard. He kept one arm around her waist as he set the bottle back on the desk and looked up at her.

She did not ask him the reason for the rum or the reason why he was ignoring the log books at her back in favor of holding her in the chair. Instead, Lily placed a hand against his cheek, her thumb stroking the corner of his lips as she looked into his face.

James twisted his head into her hand, inhaling the faint scent of rum that lingered on Lily's breath. Lily moved her hand to brush the bangs from his forehead, feeling goose-bumps rise up under the path of her fingers. James shifted in his seat, forcing Lily to fall slightly against his chest. She did not pull away but let her head rest in the crook of his shoulder and neck.

"Did you sleep?" Lily asked him softly, though she guessed the answer.

James tilted his chin to rest on her hair and released a deep breath. "I spent most of the night thinking…" James admitted, glancing toward the stack of untouched log books. Lily burrowed closer to him, letting James' arms tighten around her waist.

"What were you thinking about?"

James looked at her for a moment. "You."

Lily pulled away from him, not far enough to fall out of his embrace, but enough to look at his face. The question in her eyes caused James to slink his hand away from her waist and to catch the hand that rested on his chest. He held it still and Lily could feel his heartbeat through her palm.

"I was considering whether it would be better to find a ship and send you home to your father," James spoke the admission downward, careful not to look at Lily's face that twisted into a grimace at his answer.

Lily twisted her hand and linked their fingers together so their palms pressed, then she pulled their intertwined hands between them. James' lips parted and Lily tightened her grip on his hand to quell his protest. Lily leaned forward and rested her forehead against James'.

"Do you think you could get rid of me that easily?" she admonished him without heat. James tightened his fingers around hers and tipped his head back, sensing her lips rather than seeing them.

"Erm…" A cleared throat froze their lips barely inches apart. James opened his eyes and looked up at Lily whose mouth had twisted into a small, amused smile that held more than a trace of disappointment. James pulled is head back and looked over Lily's shoulder to see Liz waiting in the doorway.

James stared at her as if she had come bursting into the cabin with trumpets blaring and banners flying, rather than walking in after her knock had gone unnoticed.

"You and Sirius have so much in common," he blurted without thinking, "namely your impeccable timing."

It wasn't until the name slipped out that James realized he had expected it to be Sirius, not Liz, who had interrupted the moment. Not until the name had fallen much too easily through unguarded lips had he realized that for a few moments he had forgotten that their crew was incomplete and that everything was not as it once had been. Lily's grip tightened around his hand before James pulled out of her grip and rose from his seat, forcing Lily to stand as well. James ignored her furrowed brow and Liz's gaze as he retreated to the helm.

Sirius glared at the tin plate of molded bread that had been shoved into Dora's hands a few moments before. Dora was carefully picking apart one of the better looking pieces while he watched with a fixed frown. His legs were bent and he had propped his arms up on his knees, resting his chin in the curve of one elbow. Over his arm he adjusted his gaze to Dora's face. No longer were there lines wrinkling her brow or twisting her lips into a frown, the light in her eyes had shed its shadows.

Sirius shifted his arms, hiding his face behind his forearm. He almost closed his eyes, welcoming the emptiness that might bring, but he didn't allow his eyelids to fall. Ever since Dora had told her story whenever he closed his eyes he saw Remus reminding him of how much he loved Dora and how he continued to look for her. If that guilt wasn't enough to send Sirius' gut into spasms, there was always James or Lily or Liz in the background, watching him and waiting. Sirius shifted on the floor, his boots scraping the stone and catching Dora's attention. Her blue eyes were bright, even in the dim light of the cell. Wordlessly, she held out a small scrap of bread.

Chains sending up a tinkling chorus, Sirius reached across, devouring the bread in one bite. "You would think they'd want to fatten me up before they put me on the roasting spit." His voice was muffled as he replaced his chin on his arm.

He had tried not to be antsy, but for a man used to walking and doing as he pleased, it wasn't just the prospect of torture and death that made him jumpy. The chains barely allowed him to move two feet from the wall. He felt like a puppet with knotted strings. To make matters worse, Sirius had yet to see Lestrange since their arrival; that worried him more than whatever torture was being planned. Lestrange was the type to gloat, if their meeting earlier was anything to go by. And yet Lestrange stayed away.

Sirius rattled his chains in agitation. Dora lifted a brow, her hands still picking at the leftover bread. He forced his muscles to still and made his arms drop limply as if in calm but it couldn't fool her. Sirius let his head tip back to rest on the wall, staring up at the cracked ceiling and tracing one particularly rigid crack that ran from the wall to the window.

Dora toyed with the crumbs of bread, keeping her gaze on the plate as the silence settled. As her fingers occupied themselves, her mind drifted to Remus. When they had been separated he had been barely eighteen, tall and lean, but muscled due to the weeks of working on a ship. His hands were calluses over calluses and Dora remembered how he had traced the lines on her palm with one finger, leaving a trail of goose-bumps along her own rough skin.

Her hands stopped, lying open on the tray as her blue eyes traced the lines on her palms. She had run her fingers through his light hair hundreds of times, brushing it from his eyes just for an excuse to touch him. Her fingers curled, remembering the feeling of Remus' hands twined with hers, palm to palm with no space left between them.

"Is he still the same?" The murmured request brought Sirius' head up, tilting his face away from the filtering moonlight toward her. He did not have to ask who she referred to; the emotion barely kept out of the words was enough for him to know.

Sirius wrinkled his nose. Only when he spoke did Dora realize it was only mock disgust trying to hide a smile. "Of course not. He's all old and wrinkly and smelly."

Dora could not stop the laugh that bubbled from her lips. Spurred by the response, Sirius continued with a gleam in his eyes, "Honestly, the man never bathes and don't get me started on his hair. All gray and falling out, he's practically bald now. Not handsome at all."

"Sirius," Dora groaned, shoving him in the shoulder, which only earned her a familiar toothy grin that until then had been absent.

"I'm being honest with you," he assured her, still wearing a grin. "It's positively horrid how he keeps himself these days." Dora shook with barely suppressed laughter, upsetting the tin plate and sending the remaining crumbs onto the floor.

Sirius waited, enjoying the unrestrained laughter, not tempered or kept hidden, but flowing easily from the woman near him. It was the first rays of sun to reach him in the dank cell in days. His shoulders relaxed against the wall as he basked in the warmth as he would have on the bow of the Marauder.

Dora muffled her giggles, though the smile remained across her lips. "It appears you aged better than he, only a few gray hairs."

Sirius snorted at her. "Oh the woman has a sense of humor. No wonder Remus loves you." Dora's cheeks glowed at the phrase with the knowledge that even if all that Sirius had said was true, Remus hadn't changed all that much.

"He's older now," Sirius admitted after a moment, his voice heavy and low. Tilting his head slightly, he let his grin fall into a crooked smile. "Like you."

Dora sobered, but the cloud did not fall back over her features. She shifted closer to him, waiting.

Sirius slanted his eyes downward. Remus was better at hiding all the guilt and feelings than most people, at least until recently. He had kept his features bland, his words coaxing and only in a few moments of anger over the past several years had Remus ever slipped and shown how much pain he truly was in. Sirius had seen it in his eyes when Remus confronted James about abandoning Lily, he had heard it in Remus' cracking voice and even in the sound of Remus' fist connecting with James' face.

James hadn't been the only one having nightmares either, Sirius recalled, though Remus' fear manifested itself in losing the woman he loved over and over again. And when the three of them trained, Remus' mind could never have been far from the night where he hadn't been able to fight well enough to save Dora.

Sirius looked up at her, dark eyes fierce. "He is happy, but it's not like it was with you. It's like it was before, with just him, James and me. Only now he knows what he could have, of what he couldn't protect."

Dora had long thought she was beyond any more pain, but her chest clenched and twisted at Sirius' words as though a fist had broken through her chest to strangle her heart. She knew of course the guilt that had flowed through her own veins during their years apart, she knew of how many nights she had dreamed of Remus, had longed for him. And yet in all that Sirius had said there was one glimmer of warmth, and while it had come in a moment of teasing it rang truer and louder than a church's bell in her ears. Despite how old they had both become, despite the longing and guilt, Remus still loved her.

Sirius saw Dora's shoulders relax slightly, though she did not voice whatever thought had calmed the pain that had tightened her body. Feeling the need to bring her all the way back from where his too honest answer had sent her, Sirius reached and touched her arm with one hand. When Dora looked up, she found a smile on his lips unmarred by twists or teasing.

"When you see him, you'll know." Dora's lips pulled into a grateful smile. Sirius let the silence hang, then twisted one corner of his lip. "Except you know he has gotten a bit flabby with age –"

Dora chuckled. She lifted an eyebrow and fixed him with a twisted smile. "Oh the man has a sense of humor," she mirrored, tilting her head at him, "no wonder Liz loves you."

Sirius' grin faltered, the corners dropping before he set his lip in a neutral line. He murmured his affirmation. He tilted his face toward the barred window, the shadows muted his features.

Dora twisted her hand in her skirt, wondering why she hadn't thought to ask of Liz earlier. "How is she?"

Sirius released a breath. "Older," he half muttered. It seemed to be the most accurate term for them all, he thought with some bitterness. "A regular businesswoman actually. She lives at her grandmother's old inn.

"Alone?"

He nodded, gnawing on the inside of his cheek as he did so.

"And you live…"

"On a boat." Sirius straightened and pasted a brilliant grin on his features. Dora stared at him, her brow smooth and her lips curved in a slight frown. Sirius' grin fell drooped. "Well, it's a ship really, but you get the general idea."

Dora nodded, reaching for the tin plate and picking up the crumbs from the floor one at a time. Her nails scraped against the tin and in the silence they sounded louder than a barrage of cannon fire in Sirius' head.

"Do you see her?"

"Here and there," Sirius said slowly, watching each crumb drop onto the tin. "She's a busy woman, always out on the town. And well, we've been a little swamped with Riddle and then trying to find you and the coven…"

"I see."

Chained to the wall beside her, the moonlight seemed to burn his face. Sirius picked at the manacle with his thumb and didn't look up at the woman sitting near him.

Steel slid against steel, ringing in Liz's ears as her sword slipped against Lily's. The two women broke apart, gingerly circling in a fighter's crouch. Liz yielded a step, her foot slipping along the floor behind her. Her dark bangs stuck to her forehead and her cheeks flushed as she tried to make up for her misstep with a twist of her wrists. Her parry dropped and Lily wrenched the weapon sideways, dislodging the sword from Liz's grip. The blade skidded across the paneled floor, stopping just before the disarrayed bookcases lining the wall.

Liz straightened, her fists clenching empty air. Brow wrinkled and eyebrows low over her dark eyes, Liz stared at the tip of steel inches from her body. Lily took a step back, letting her sword drop to her side.

"You're still dropping your guard too low."

Liz's shoulders tensed at Lily's criticism. Ignoring the silence that waited for her response, she moved toward her weapon. She had been on the receiving end of Lily's strength for the past hour and had the bruises to prove it. While they were closer in size, Lily used her elbows, arms, legs and hips to physically overpower Liz hardly seeming to need her weapon. Some might have said it was cheating, but Lily had been trained by a pirate and Liz knew the pirates they would eventually face would not be as forgiving.

Lily rolled her shoulders, feeling the bones grate against one another. Her muscles twinged from the hours spend over the log books. Sparring often left her feeling more energized with her mind clear. Liz's training left her mentally and physically exhausted, drained of the patience it took to combat the innkeeper's self-doubt and slipping footwork. The sight of James' back as he'd retreated and her inability to go after him rankled Lily, leaving her ire like dry undergrowth just waiting for a spark.

The redhead released a grunt, "Again." Liz had only a moment to bring her blade up to catch the downward slash of the weapon. Lily sidestepped, twisting her arms and almost disarming Liz a second time.

Liz drew back with her weapon at an angle across her body. Lily circled to the left, her eyes flickering for a moment toward the cracked door. Liz saw the glance and slid forward a step, but Lily's blade lifted at the last moment, catching the sideways swipe. Twisting her body, Lily threw her off balance. Liz stumbled back several steps until there was a wide space between them.

"Your footwork needs to be quicker," Lily instructed, advancing a step. "You're not going to be able to win on strength, but you are quick and should use that to your advantage."

Liz's hand tightened around the handle of the blade until her knuckles turned white. "So I'm quick at running away? What good is that if they stab me in the back?" The bitterness made her words almost a snarl.

The hairs on Lily's neck rose slightly at the challenge. The calmer part of her mind cautioned her, Liz was still guilty and angry at herself, causing her more often than not to lash out at the nearest person. Lily had kept herself calm, forcing her words to sooth Liz's wounded heart, but the aches in her shoulders, the steady pulse of a headache and the sleepless nights shattered the understanding.

"You came onto the ship with the understanding that you would be going into a fight. Not running away from it," Lily countered. She spun the handle of her blade in her hand, causing the blade to hiss through the air.

Liz winced slightly. "No one can predict where the course of a fight will lead," the innkeeper said with a released breath.

Lily paced toward the bookshelf, keeping her gaze on Liz. "It is like life in that respect. You make certain moves, certain attacks and defenses, and you must live or die with them." She stopped, balancing on the balls of her feet for a moment before retracing her steps. "You cannot make an attack, be blocked, then retreat and then be shackled with the guilt of why it did not work. You must regroup and prepare for another attack."

Liz swallowed. Her palm was slick against the metal of the handle. "And what are you preparing for?" she asked abruptly. "What is your next attack? Do you return to the safety of your father's home?" The next words fell from her lips before she could stop them. "Or do you stay and fight and die for your lover, whose friends you will never replace?"

Lily's grip around her sword tightened, the muscles rippling along her forearms. Instinct drove her forward, her sword whipping toward Liz. The innkeeper barely brought her sword up in time to catch the weapon. Lily's sword twisted and the swords shrieked against one another. Liz twisted sideways but Lily moved with her, swatting away the poorly handled parry and jerking the sword from Liz's grip. The act threw Liz off balance and she hit the floor shoulder first. She twisted, her empty hand digging at the floor as she tried to scramble up. She froze when the tip of Lily's sword touched her throat.

Lily's chest heaved with the adrenaline and hurt that coursed like rapids through her blood. Her breath came in short bursts, breaking up the heavy silence that hung around them.

"Training is over." The tip of the sword retracted.

Liz winced, shifting her gaze downward as Lily spun on her heel and stalked back to the desk. The redhead flung the sword on the desk, the clang of metal against wood echoed in her ears. Lily braced her hands on the edge of the desk, inhaling through her nose and trying to find the calm that had been present in James' arms only hours earlier. She had snapped, unforgivably so, at the woman she had bullied James into allowing on his ship. Her responsibility. Lily ran a hand through her hair in a motion strangely reminiscent of James, wondering how she would explain this to James or how to speak to Liz when they saw each other again.

"I never meant it when I told him I wasn't interested."

Lily twisted at the sound of Liz's voice to discover the woman had not moved from the floor. Lily stared at her, wondering whether she should stop the story at the beginning or allow it to run its course, wherever it led. Before she made up her mind, Liz was once again speaking.

"He would sneak into the kitchens and I would throw him out, I threw soup on him when he came into the dining room when I was serving, I ignored him…though I couldn't even do that properly." Liz's lips curved slightly.

"He would bring me shells and trinkets that he either stole or found. He would steal kisses when he thought I wasn't paying attention. So sweet…and so infuriating. He would saunter in drunk, singing love ballads about wenches and pirates. He called me flowery names, spilled food, flirted with…" Liz released a rough sigh. "I fought with him every day."

But you love him? The question almost fell from Lily's lips, but she caught it before it could betray her. The roaring of the blood in her ears, the heat of it on her cheeks, the rapid heartbeat that came from arguing with James were not so different from the feelings when she was wrapped in his embrace.

"The first time I fell asleep in his arms I felt warm, safe. I could feel his heart beat against my cheek. It was so steady and constant." Liz stared at the floor, her eyes lost in the memory. "So strange for a man who could be bubbling one moment and simmering with anger the next." Lily's eyes left the woman, her cheeks warming at the intimate tone that deepened Liz's voice.

"When I woke up in the middle of the night, he wasn't there. I thought something had happened so I went to find James." Liz looked up, meeting Lily's hooded gaze. "They were all staying in the inn that night. When I opened the door I saw him lying at the edge of their bed.

A bitter laugh caused goose bumps to ripple up Lily's spine. "He left my bed, left me, to sleep in a tiny bed that wasn't meant to hold two, much less three grown men. He chose to sleep with James' elbow in his ribs, clinging to the edge while Remus stole the blankets instead of in my bed holding me."

Lily's grip on the edge of the desk tightened, her nails digging into the wood for a brief instant. The memory of her time at the inn and Liz's observation of the three men flickered like a dying ember.

"They own each other, complete each other. Without one piece they crumble. Can you not see that?" Liz demanded hotly.

"Clearer than you." Lily's voice was ice, but her expression lacked any malice or challenge.

Liz flinched, eyes dropping to the floor. "He'll always choose them." Her voice was small, the truth she spoke one that she had hugged against her for so long it felt almost like betrayal to speak it aloud.

"You underestimate him." Lily's whisper carried to the cabin's darkest corners. "You underestimate them all if you believe a twenty-four year old man will make the same choice an eighteen year old did. You underestimate him if you believe reliance on them means he doesn't need you as well."

The redhead remembered vividly rushing up the steps to the landing, stopping Riddle only a moment before he drove his sword through James' heart, remembered the look of relief and terror on James' face when he had seen her and how his arms felt when the danger was over and he'd pulled her to him. She remembered him clinging to her after Sirius' disappearance, the tears that stained her shirt and his head in her lap as he fell into fitful exhaustion. She remembered how he had embraced her in the inn after Liz had scorned him and how he had handed over the log book when she'd offered her support.

Taking a step forward, Lily extended her hand to the woman on the floor. Liz started and then stared at the open palm. Slowly, she reached up, her fingers tentatively clasping Lily's forearm. Lily pulled her to her feet. Neither woman released their hold on the other, dark eyes meeting green.

"I'm selfish," Liz admitted softly. "I love him and I hate him, but even when he makes me hate him I want him…"

"The flight though the air," Lily spoke slowly, "the most idiotic thing I have done to date, Sirius called heroic and Remus dubbed romantic." Lily tightened her grip on the older woman's arm. "But it was nothing but pure selfishness."

Liz's eyebrows lifted past her bangs and Lily shrugged one shoulder.

"I simply did not want to live without him," she said. "Perhaps in that we are not so different, you and I."

"I have a confession." Dora murmured into the silence of the cell. Sirius looked sharply toward her through the faint light the moon pushed through the bars of the window.

"Another one?" The question slipped from a slightly bemused expression.

Despite the weight of what she needed to say, Dora smiled at his response. "Yes, though perhaps not as long winded.

Beneath the joking tone there was a sliver of urgency in her words. Sirius released a breath, letting his chest sag and his shoulders relax into the stone wall. "Some would argue that I am not the best person for confessing ones sins," he muttered as an excuse, though it lacked any real force.

"It is not so much a sin as…guilt," Dora corrected, the smile fading. "Do you remember when I told you I had wished away any rescue?" Sirius tilted his head slightly. "I lied."

Sirius stilled so not even his heart seemed to strain against his chest, though he could practically feel it vibrating through his skin. Dora did not seek sanctuary in the puddle or her lap, but held Sirius' gaze as if to break it would be her damnation.

"I tried," she admitted. "I tried to will you, Remus and James away, but I didn't really. I couldn't." Dora swallowed away the bitter taste lingering on her tongue. "I wanted someone to save me…not so much different than how you have spoken of James rescuing you."

Sirius winced slightly at the comparison. "It's not exactly the same–" he protested.

"It is," Dora cut him off firmly and softly. "Against good sense I wished Remus here, to search the seas for me, to find me and carry me away from this nightmare. For over six years I wished it…wished him to find his way to where a fate worse than death greeted him, just to see his face, to know he had come for me."

Sirius' lack of response was all the affirmation Dora's statement needed. He rubbed one shackled wrist, more for the sound the chains offered than for any comfort to his bruised skin. He had been wishing for a quick rescue from this cell, but for James and Remus to come and face the coven alone…Sirius bit his tongue abruptly, then winced as saliva in his mouth burned the fresh cut across his tongue. How could he rightly wish his friends to come to his rescue?

Sirius looked at het women next to him. "It is not something to feel guilty over." It was meant as a reassurance but it came out far harsher than he intended.

Dora tilted her chin downward. "That is not what I feel guilty for, Sirius."

His brow wrinkled as she ran the back of her hand across her quivering lips. "My guilt is the relief I felt when I saw it was you the coven had taken and not Remus."

Dora dared not drop her eyes though her statement echoing against the walls made her stomach churn. Across from her, the first mate straightened so his back no longer leaned quite so easily against the stone. He did not speak and Dora could not tell if it was hurt that flickered across his dark eyes. She would have spared both of them if she could, but the man she had condemned by speaking had to know of the relief in her breast when she had seen it was him slumped over in the corner rather than Remus. They were prisoners together and there could be no such secrets between them if they were to stand against what was coming.

Sirius expected her words to be a sharp dagger plunged into his stomach, twisted in discomfort until her final word killed the fragile bridge that had been built in the damp cell. But he felt no stab, no bridge crumbling at his feet. There was a glimmer of hurt, to be expected he assumed, but it was shoved aside with the odd relief that this was some twisted proof that Dora still cared deeply for Remus, as if Sirius really had doubted it. What Sirius felt instead was an emptiness that engulfed his chest, smothered his heartbeat to a dull murmur so Sirius himself could not even hear the blood pumping.

James slapped the final logbook against the corner of the table he had set up on the upper deck. The table shook and he braced his palms on the wood to settle it. He glared at the spots littering the coast drawn on the map lying between his hands. The lines between the dots were faded from running his finger over the borders and between the ports.

Remus had started at the sudden noise, now he watched James stare at the parchment. He waited two heartbeats before demanding, "Well?"

James pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes closed. "We've mapped every port Riddle has been to in the past decade. I've plotted the courses between them and all we have is chicken scratch across a perfectly good map."

Remus snatched the map from the table, eyes darting across the lines and dots. James crossed his arms, leaned against the rail and waited. The silence stretched between them until Remus' arms dropped, the map crinkling in his grasp. His shoulders had slumped though his eyes still stared hungrily at the map.

James turned his head, looking back over his shoulder at the white swells in the dark blue ocean. His hands tightened around the railing, wood chipping off under his nails. Around him were waves, swells crashing against the hull of the ship and salty sea air. There wasn't a ship, bird or sea turtle in sight.

"We need help."

Remus' head came up. His brow wrinkled into a frown as he stared at his captain. "What?"

"I…we can't do this alone, Remus."

"In case you haven't noticed, James, we do not exactly have a surplus of aid." Remus flung out a hand toward the half deserted deck.

"And in case you haven't noticed we haven't done very well on our own." James threw out his own arm toward the empty sea. "We can't search everywhere, through every shadow or around every corner. I know these waters and I can't make anything out of these scratches or where they might be leading us."

"Who do you suggest we go to?" Remus demanded. "Lily's father? The King?" Bitterness spiked his voice. "James there is no one to help us."

James slumped back against the railing, his shoulders drooping. "I know one man." A wry, half grin broke through his melancholy features. "Though he's lost so many pieces man may not be the proper term anymore."

Remus' eyebrows furrowed, his eyes darting side to side as he tried to think of one man left alive and apart from this ship who would consider aiding them. His eyebrows jumped past his bangs and his throat constricted when the realization came.

"James, you can't–"

"Of course," James considered, ignoring the gray tinge that had appeared on Remus' cheeks, "that's assuming he doesn't kill me before I get the chance to ask."

A/N: I hope this chapter lived up to your standards, I'm not quite sure how I feel about it (which is probably why it got re-written at least 15 times - no exaggeration). The next chapter is in the process of being written, fingers crossed it will not take too long. Again, I apologize for the long wait, but you know how real life can be :) Also, reviews are chocolate for the writer's soul! :)