A/N: Huge apologies for the delay! I just moved house, I still have no internet at home, and work decided to become stupidly busy. Thank you to everyone leaving comments, kudos and follows! I hope you enjoy this latest chapter!


Abigail woke in much the same manner as she had the previous day: aching all over and on the ground. She slowly sat up and looked around. Well, at least her feet were dry this time.

The tent had held well and she thought she remembered the wind picking up during the night. She wiped at her face and cringed at the fine layer of sand on her cheeks. Glancing to the side, she realised the other half of the ground under the tent was undisturbed,

She frowned. Had Billy slept out in the open all night?

Emerging from the tent, she looked around. The fire still burned and the sun was only just appearing about the horizon, so it was still quite early. Licking her dry lips, she went to the bucket of water and cupped some in her hand to drink. She drank enough to soothe her throat and splashed some on her face, waking her fully. Looking around the beach, she began to hear a thunk-whack. Then another. Thunk-whack.

She got to her feet and walked around the tent to the opposite side, stopping at the tree line.

Oh, she thought absently. Good morning?

Billy stood with his feet shoulder-width apart as he swung his cutlass into the trunk of a narrow palm tree. He had already created a notch where his cutlass sunk into repeatedly as he swung. The tree began to bow one way. With apparent ease, he placed his hand flat on the trunk and pushed.

Abigail held her breath and couldn't determine which wonder to fix her gaze upon: the falling tree or the play of Billy's arm muscles beneath his skin.

She aimed for both.

She failed miserably, but she did try to pay some attention to the tree as it fell to the ground.

The crash and thump it made, even though she expected it, made her jump. Seeing her in the corner of his eye, Billy turned to her and she smiled.

"Good morning," she called approaching him.

"Morning," he said nodding before walking along the length of the fallen tree. He plucked a coconut off the ground and set it on the trunk. With an easy swing of his cutlass, he split the coconut in half. Pausing only briefly, he offered one half to Abigail.

She blinked and came closer, taking the coconut from him and looking down at it.

"Just eat the white bits and drink the juice," he said before tipping the remaining half into his mouth and then digging out the white flaky flesh.

Abigail did the same and the earthy sweetness surprised her and she hummed happily as she ate.

Billy sank the blade of his cutlass into the trunk and sat down. Abigail mimicked him and sat on the opposite side of the blade. He finished his breakfast before she did and used his cutlass to carve out the remaining bits of fruit, hollowing the outside into a bowl.

"Oh," she said watching him. "That's a good idea."

"Makes drinking a bit easier," he said. He nodded at her coconut. "I can-"

"Oh, no," she said smiling and pulling out her small knife. "I'd like to try."

"Just don't stab yourself or lose a finger," he said, his eyes crinkling a bit at the corners.

"I'll make a special point of it, thank you," she said eyeing her knife and the coconut before attempting to carve as he had done.

Billy got to his feet and collected the rest of the fallen coconuts. Realizing that he was about to start chopping up the tree, Abigail moved to sit on the ground to finish carving. While she did her best to focus on the coconut in her hand, her gaze kept returning to Billy as he worked.

"Is this for firewood?" she asked.

He nodded. "The fire needs to be big enough to see from the sea. That means lots of wood."

"I see," she said eyeing her slightly misshapen attempt at a bowl, but figured it would hold water well enough.

Billy cut the palm fronds off the top and moved to throw them to the side.

"Oh, wait!" she said getting to her feet. He paused and looked at her, fronds still in hand. "I'd like to try something with those, actually. I think I'd like to try to weave them together? Possibly create a mat of some sort to sleep on?"

He glanced at the fronds and but silently handed them to her, shrugging, "Suit yourself."

"Did you sleep by the fire last night?" she asked taking the fronds.

"Yeah," he said before chopping off some of the smaller limbs.

"You weren't cold?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nah, don't need much sleep these days anyway. Hard to sleep for more than…" He glanced at her and then shook his head again. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine outside." He chopped at the top of the tree with a grim expression. "Slept in far worse places."

She watched him for a moment longer and then asked, "You'd much rather be out there, wouldn't you? With your crew?"

"Yeah," he said, his eyes fixed on the tree. He seemed to come back to himself and winced as he glanced at her. "It's nothing personal."

"I'm not offended," she said smiling a bit. "They're your crew and well, I imagine you've…work to do?"

"Yeah," he said wiping his forehead with the back of his forearm. "Things are…precarious in Nassau right now."

"You mean dangerous?" she asked.

"Well, if by dangerous, you mean that we're in the eye of a storm that threatens all of Nassau and these islands while we wait to see if Spain rains holy hell on anyone in her way?" he said. "Yeah, things are dangerous."

"Eye of a storm?" she repeated. "I thought I'd read that some sort of agreement had been reached?"

He chuckled and kicked a bit of the tree. "Agreement. The current term is 'ceasefire' and all who reside in the region, pirate, maroon, or English soldier is joined against a common enemy."

"Spain," Abigail said. "I see. You don't think this ceasefire will last?"

"Either Spain blows us all out of the water or England does," Billy said. "It'll be one or the other. Fact is, we're too different now. We've tasted true independence and my brothers and I have suffered for too long under a fickle England and we're not going to stand for it much longer." He smirked. "And England knows it."

He sunk his cutlass so heavily into the tree, Abigail felt the vibration of it under her feet.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?" he asked looking at her, confused.

"I'm sorry that you're stuck here," she said. "When you'd much rather be out there. I'd feel the same if I were in your position."

He seemed to not know what to say and so Abigail took the opportunity to say, "And I promise not to be too much trouble. I won't be idle when there are things to be seen to. In fact, what can I do?"

"You don't need to do anything," he said still looking uneasy.

"Of course, I do," she said. "I know you may not want me to, or don't believe that I'm capable, but I assure you, I am."

"It's not that," he said crinkling his eyes and looking away from her.

"Then what is it?" she asked, certain that there was something bothering him. Something about her that bothered him.

But he just shook his head. "Nothing. It's nothing." He looked at her. "We could use more water."

"Of course," she said lifting her chin. "I'll return shortly."

She gathered her carved coconut and the palm fronds, leaving him to stare after her. She was determined to prove her usefulness to him, one way or another. After dropping the palm fronds by the tent, she grabbed the bucket and walked into the trees. The bucket banged softly against her legs and she stared up at the sunlight filtering through the branches above. Halfway between musing and keeping an eye out for spiders. She skirted around the remains of the Spanish skeleton and went directly for the pool. Remembering her mishap the day before of trying to just dunk the bucket into the pool and then lift it, resulting in a soaked front, she set the bucket on the lip of the pool and using her newly carved coconut, she filled the bucket scoop by scoop. Before she left, she eyed the higher rocks and wondered if there was more water above that she couldn't see.

Deciding that she'd return later and see if she could climb up she picked up the bucket and winced as they weight and the thinness of the handle cut into her soft palms. She frowned at both the handle and her hands unused to labour.

"Fine," she muttered putting the bucket down. "It was rather inevitable."

She glanced around and then used her knife to cut a strip from the bottom of her petticoat. She ripped it right the way around. She dipped it in the pool to clean it slightly, then sliced it into smaller section, deciding that sooner or later one of them would need a bandage. She wound a strip around her palm and lifted the bucket again. It still stung, but at least it didn't dig in quite so much.

She walked back to their camp. As she emerged onto the beach, she saw Billy standing by the tent, obviously looking for her. However, upon seeing her he turned away and started to chop up what remained of the tree.

Abigail's smile slipped from her face and her cheeks burned, more out of confusion that anything else. Had she done something? She walked slowly to the fire, making sure she didn't spill a drop of water.

When she reached him as she set the bucket down, he asked, "What happened?"

She looked at him and shook her head. "Nothing at all. Why do you ask?"

He nodded to her bound hand. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"Oh, no," she said quickly unbinding the cloth. "The handle was… I'm not used to this kind of activity." He frowned and she added, "But they'll get stronger. I'll get stronger, I promise."

He seemed to dislike her answer as he looked away with a sigh. With a set to his jaw, he sank his cutlass into a log with a force that made her jump. He darted a look at her and she looked away, biting her lip, deeply unsure as to what had happened between eating a coconut together in relative peace and now where he could barely look at her. He seemed...angry? But whether it was directed at her or something else, she really couldn't say.

It has been some time since you've seen him, she thought turning to look at the sea. And he's clearly missing his crewmates and you, my girl, are a very sad substitute for them.

For lack of anything better to do and unwilling to remain in his presence when he so clearly wished her anywhere else and deep in what Abigail would call an 'unapproachable' mood, she headed to the shoreline.

Her thoughts tumbled over each other, much like the waves before her, but she did her best to remain calm. She'd spent most of her life waiting and watching, what was a little bit more.

'Limbo,' one teacher had called it. 'That place between Heaven and Hell where a soul dwells until Judgement.'

The teacher had then gone on to mostly deride the Catholic doctrine, but the concept had remained with Abigail.

A life of unending Limbo, she thought. Waiting to go to school, waiting to leave school, waiting to travel to the Americas, waiting in a cell, then another, and then left all alone to wait even more for someone, anyone to take me off someone else's hands. I thought this would end when I boarded the Hadley. I planned and I planned and took absolute action. She stared at the endless sea and closed her eyes when the sunlight reflected harshly. But here I am once again. Waiting. But for what this time?

The warm water slipped over her bare feet and she knelt down to wash off her hands and her sandy calves. She stood and shaded her eyes as she stared out at the sea, watching the waves break on the shoals; the sound of Billy chopping away resounded behind her. The chopping had paused when she knelt down, but resumed when she stood and she knew that she was watching her.

She closed her eyes and let her frustration and loneliness swamp her for a moment; then she opened her eyes and decided to do something useful. For a moment, she was at a loss as to what that something useful could be, but she noticed some driftwood coming in and supposed that collecting anything that had washed up overnight would be as useful as anything.

She walked a small ways and found a small bit of sail, a flask of something, as well as some netting.

She moved slowly down the beach until she realised that she could no longer hear Billy's chopping. Turning around she discovered that she was some ways from the camp and that he was near the shoreline, watching her. She raised her hand and waved minutely at him.

After a moment, he did the same. With an odd set to his shoulders, he went back to his tree. Her heart thudded oddly in her chest as she watched him stride across the sand, his figure tall and imposing, even at such a distance.

"It really is quite absurd that a simple hand wave can make you this ridiculous," she said out loud. "Honestly, Abigail."

She carried on walking until she reached where the island ended into a set of sharp rocks and crashing waves. Abigail stared at the surf a moment and then headed back, picking up the odd pieces of flotsam and jetsam along the way.

By the time she made it back to the tent and the fire she was thirsty and hungry. She dropped the sail filled with items by the fire.

"All right?" Billy asked as he joined her, handing her an already split coconut.

Happily, she dug out some of the fruit and nodded. "Hmm. Found some more bits and pieces." She poked the sack with her foot. "I'm not sure how useful any of it is, but I had an idea for the netting."

Billy crouched down and sifted through the bits of driftwood and examined the netting before putting it to the side. He plucked the flask up and shook it.

Liquid sloshed inside and he glanced at her.

"I didn't open it," she said. "I have no idea what's in it."

"Probably seawater," he said twisting the cork up and out. He sniffed at it and raised his eyebrows before taking a drink. "Rum."

"Really?" she asked watching him.

He nodded before taking another drink and wincing around it. "It's not very good rum, but it's rum. Not off the Walrus, though. The men wouldn't stand for this shite being on board." He took another drink before glancing at her and offering the flask to her. "Would you, ah, care for some?"

"Oh, no," she said smiling briefly. "I'm not particularly fond of it."

"You drunk it before?" he asked getting to his feet.

She looked down and fussed with the netting. "Ned Low thought it would be best if I remained quiet. So they poured a great deal of rum down me." She wrinkled her nose. "A good bit of it came back up the next morning, but it had the desired effect. I was quiet. After that I found I don't really care for the taste very much."

Her fingers tangled in the netting as she recalled the damp, cold of the cell and the sour taste in her mouth and the smell of her ruined dress. A funny sound brought her out of her memories and she looked over to see Billy pouring the remaining rum out of the flask onto the ground. Her lips parted in surprise and she stared at him.

When the last drop fell from the flask, he put the cork back in the top and handed it to her. "It's still a good flask. Just wash it out and keep it with you."

She took the flask from him in silence and honestly didn't know how to respond. This gesture from him seemed to bear more weight and meaning than the sum of the last two years' worth of expressions of pity. Billy appeared to be as thrown by his actions as she was and shifted on his feet while his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. Eventually, he just nodded and went back to his tree.

Abigail watched him go and wondered if she'd ever come close to understanding the terribly taciturn man who occupied this island with her.

Putting him from her mind, she sat down by the fire and studied the netting. Then she took two thin branches from the palm tree and cut them to equal heights. She easily tied the netting to the sticks and held it up so that the net stretched between the sticks. Abigail smiled as she got to her feet to head down to the waves.

She had no idea if the tide was coming or going but perhaps when Billy was feeling a bit friendlier (if he ever felt a bit friendlier) she'd ask him. She stopped at the edge and frowned down at her skirts before eyeing the water.

Shrugging, she walked into the calm surf, the sun had dried her clothing the day before, and surely it would do so again.

The water felt refreshing around her ankles and legs and her toes curled in the sand. Her skirts puffed up the further she ventured, but eventually they grew heavy with water and clung to her skin. As she walked, she remembered how heavy fabric became when wet, but she'd already come this far and she wasn't about to stop now.

Once the water reached to just above her knees, she lowered the net into the shallows. She kept it at an angle so that whatever came close would get caught in the net.

Then she waited.

The sun beat down and sweat ran down her temples and neck to collect in her bodice, but she stayed still. She saw all sorts of things in the water that moved in small swells past her legs. Little fish and even a few small crabs scuttled along. One largeish fish in particular seemed to be intrigued by her toes. It darted between her legs and down around her ankles. It swam close to the net and then away.

Abigail held her breath.

The fish darted into the net...and wriggled. It was stuck. She'd done it. She'd actually caught a fish!

Slowly, she started to lift the net from the water, the weight of the fish made her shift her feet in the uneven sand.

The net had just emerged from the water when a voice asked harshly, "What the hell are you doing?"

Abigail yelped and straightened, pulling the net out of the water. The weight of the fish and her sodden skirts threw her off balance and she fell backwards into the water.


Billy's heart stuttered when he saw her fall backwards into the water and he raced into the waves. By the time he reached her, she was getting to her feet and...laughing? What the hell?

Despite being soaking wet, with strands of her hair plastered to her face and neck, she smiled at him and held something up.

"I caught a fish," she said laughing.

He stared at her in complete disbelief before looking at the thing she held in her hands. Had she...made a net? Because sure enough, there was a fish wriggling inside it. A sizeable one, too. Enough to feed them both for dinner.

Her face fell as she looked at her catch. "Oh, how do we cook it?" she asked. "Do we do it while it's still alive?"

Billy's head ached. All day he'd been dividing his time between chopping down a bloody tree and keeping an eye on Abigail, making sure that she didn't hurt herself and here she was catching their dinner? That was his responsibility. Hell, all of this was his responsibility. She just needed to stay in one place until they were rescued. Surely that wasn't too hard, was it?

But here she was, proud that she'd done something for them. Provided for them. And while he was sure he could be a right bastard, he wasn't going to be a prick about this.

So he forced a smile onto his face and said, "You generally let them die before putting them on a spit."

"Oh," she said grimacing, but she cleared her expression and said, "Show me how."

The rest of the evening was spent with Billy showing Abigail how to sharpen the ends of a stick to shove through the fish, which was then placed above the fire and turned slowly. So as to not feel as though he hadn't done anything, he waded into the surf and found a few more crabs to go along with the fish. Abigail steadily turned the fish on its spit with a concentration that he found somewhat endearing.

Which was bad, he kept telling himself. It did neither of them any good to become anything other than what they were, which was complete and total opposites. She might play at being disreputable, but sooner or later, she'd realise that her place was amongst civilised folks and that sure as hell wasn't him. He had a bloody war to win and as soon as he was off this island, the better.

He knew this.

But the longer he looked at her and saw her little smiles at the things she did for herself (and for him), the harder it was to believe that they were truly that opposite.

They ate Abigail's fish and his crabs in silence and he could see her getting drowsy and her eyes blinked slowly as the sun went down.

"Oh, goodness," she said hiding a yawn with a small, white hand. "I believe I may have to turn in."

"Yeah," he said poking at the fire. "You, ah, had a busy day."

"Hardly," she said smiling at him. "I'm not the one who felled a tree."

"Just a small one," he said shrugging.

"All the same," she said as she got to her feet and dusted off her skirts. She bit her lip and then said, "Well, good night, then."

"Good night," he said glancing at her and then away. He only looked at her fully when her back was to him and he watched her duck into the tent and lie down.

She must have been tired for she stilled nearly as soon as she laid her head on her arms. He stared at her sleeping form and knew that despite what she seemed to think, she couldn't continue as she had that day.

He had to keep her safe and he had to make sure that boundaries were set and fixed between them.

Billy gritted his teeth and stabbed at the fire. He knew what he was going to do was going make him an arse, he knew it. But it was for her own good that he kept his distance. Hell, it was for his own good that he kept his distance. It wasn't as though he wanted to bed her (although he did have a hard time not appreciating how soft her skin looked), he liked listening to her. He liked her voice and her wit and her incredible capacity for practicality.

She made a net, for Christ's sake. Half his own crew wouldn't show that much initiative two days into being stranded.

He liked her too much.

His life wasn't one that could blend with softness and kindness. If he even allowed himself to be something as minor as a friend to her, let alone anything else, his path in this world was only ever going to lead to violence and he would not allow that to touch her.

Therefore, by the time Abigail woke up the next morning, he'd already seen to the water as well as placed an already split coconut by her cup before taking up the bit of sail she'd used the day before to collect things and headed to the shoreline.

When he returned from scavenging, she was awake and standing looking down at the filled water bucket with something that might have been confusion or perhaps irritation; he wasn't sure. He did know that he felt something prickle on the back of his neck and wondered if he was going to regret being so high-handed.

But then he told himself that his men never complained when he took charge. At least they never complained to his face and that was pretty much the same thing.

"Morning," he said walking up to her. She looked up at him and then at the tarp he set down. "Not much to be found today. So I wouldn't bother looking."

She stared at the collection of driftwood and then at him before nodding. "All right."

"And there's plenty of crab, for later," he went on nodding at the breastplate with some crabs already trapped inside. "So you don't have to fish anymore."

"I see," she said her eyes narrowing and he was suddenly reminded of how Anne Bonny sometimes looked before she drew her sword, but he shook it off. "And I've already-"

"Fetched the water," she filled in. "So, I take it there's no need for me to do that either, correct?"

"Yeah," he said his brow furrowing as some of his confidence slipped away.

She nodded slowly and he knew she was on to him. Maybe she didn't guess at his why's, but she knew that he wanted her to stay put and to stop doing things for them.

This realisation transpired all within the blink of an eye as her face went from suspicious to blank to...pleasant?

She smiled at him and said, "Thank you. I believe I'll remain close to the fire today."

"Good idea," he said trying not to melt into a puddle of relief that a part of him warned him to be wary of. "I hope I can get something rigged that's a bit more sturdy than this tent. One sharp breeze and this tarp will be done for."

"I'm sure you'll figure something out," she said still sounding pleasant and easy and Billy's wariness increased, but she wasn't actually doing anything, so he ignored it and went to work.

Apart from ducking into the trees to relieve herself or wash her hands in the surf, Abigail remained by the fire, much to Billy's relief. She still wasn't idle, and really he hadn't expected her to do nothing, just to stop putting herself in harm's way. While on the warship, she'd always been doing something, sewing, writing, reading...watching, so Billy knew it was useless to think she'd just sit still. She wove a decent mat of palm fronds to sleep on. One for herself and one for him. She didn't say anything about it, just laid it by the fire.

He nodded his thanks to her and she solemnly nodded back. But as long as she just stayed put, they'd be fine. She'd be fine.

He really should have known better. None of the women he knew had ever been mild-mannered, so he wasn't sure why he assumed that the one woman he suspected was mild-mannered turned out to be anything but, because when he woke up the next morning, she wasn't in the tent.

He'd slept a bit later than he'd meant to and the sun was just above the horizon when he sat up, scrubbed a hand over his face and glanced at the tent only to see that Abigail wasn't there.

"Fuck," he hissed as he rose to his feet, cutlass in hand. He scanned the shoreline, certain that he'd see her limp, drowned body floating in the shallows, but he saw nothing but crashing surf. His eye was eventually caught by the fact that the bucket was missing.

She was fetching water? He glared at the depression in the sand where the bucket usually sat and his hand tightened on his cutlass. He's halfway to having his heart explode, imagining all sorts of horrors and she's fucking fetching water?

Billy was halfway into the trees by the time he came back to himself and when he arrived at the pool, she was standing on the edge of the rocks peering down at the very top.

"Abigail!" he called as he leapt over a fallen log as he headed straight for her.

She jumped and turned to glare at him. "Would you stop doing that? There's really no need to shout, you know? I'm fairly certain I'm the only other person around." She turned back to the rocks. "Did you know that there's a rather deep depression up here? The water goes down for a bit."

"There's every need to shout," he, well, shouted. "I wake up and you're no where to be seen. What the fuck were you thinking?"

Her head whipped around to look at him as the colour rose in her cheeks.

"I was thinking that we needed water and that you looked peaceful for perhaps the first time since I met you and figured you'd appreciate some extra sleep," she said peering down at him. "That is what the," she swallowed and lifted her chin, "fuck, I was thinking."

The wind fell out of his sails slightly upon hearing her curse, but he walked over to her and curved an arm around her waist and plucked her off the rocks.

"Hey!" she shouted, her hand clutching at his arm. "What the devil do you think you're doing?"

"Keeping you out of harm's way," he said through clenched teeth as he set her on the ground and took a step back.

"How?" she said, her eyes fierce and her hands on her hips. "By making me sit in one place all day, every day? What's next? A cell of my very own? From personal experience, I can assure you that they work very well."

He froze. "I wouldn't… That's not… I'm not Ned fucking Low, Abigail!"

"I know that!" she said stamping her foot. "Which is why I don't understand why you're acting so oddly."

"I'm not acting oddly," he lied as he looked away.

"Yes, you are," she said. "You won't talk to me."

"I talk to you," he said still not able to look at her.

"Barely," she said, "and honestly, this situation is insupportable. You cannot pretend I'm not here."

He stared at her and wondered if he was going mad or if it was just the effect this woman seemed to have on him. "I'm not pretending you aren't here."

"You speak to me only when you have to," she said glaring at him. "And then with as few words as possible. Every time you smile at me, you then turn away as though I disgust you. If you happen to laugh, you look as though you're going to run someone through with your sword and I'm not sure if that someone will be me or yourself. In short, you cannot seem to stand the sight of me and I'm very sorry for that, but we are stuck together and we must come to some sort of civilized companionship."

Billy stared at her and for the first time in a very long time, his knees actually threatened to give out from under him. "Are you mad?" he asked shaking his head. "We have been having a civilized companionship. What else do you want from me?"

"I would like you to stop treating me as though I'm some stranger or some bit of china that you cannot even breathe upon," she said. "I would like you to treat me as a, a, a, crewmate or if that's not possible, as a friend. Something other than this cold treatment."

"Do you not understand?" he said. "I can't."

"Why ever not?" she asked, her voice rising.

"Because you are a god damned lady, Abigail Ashe," he said, his own voice rising. "You are a lady and when you go back to where you came from, it would be best if you were as undamaged as possible."

She stared at him with parted lips and an expression he couldn't quite read, but he thought it might be anger.

"'Undamaged'?" she whispered. "'Go back to where I came from'?" She shook her head. "You're too late, Billy Bones. I'm already damaged."

"No," he said stepping forward, his voice firm and deep. "You're not. I won't allow it."

"Not by you," she said almost laughing even as her eyes welled up. "I was damaged long before I even met you. I was damaged the moment Ned Lowe and his men boarded that ship. And as for going back? There is no going back. Not for me." She drew in a shaking breath. "There never was."

Something hard and awful stirred in Billy's stomach and his hand tightened around the hilt of his cutlass.

"What?" he asked his voice going low. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I am no longer wanted in civilized society," she said blinking so that the tears didn't fall from her eyes. "Not only was I lacking the moral fibre that would have prevented me from being abducted in the first place; I then had the temerity to be abducted by a second pirate and then travel, without objection, with a third."

Billy stared at her, trying to parse out what she'd said. When he finally figured it out, he shook his head. "That's bollocks."

"Of course it's bollocks," she said laughing and throwing her head back and as a tear slipped from the corner of her eye, Billy wanted to punch someone. "But that's how people think. And not only did I travel with pirates, but those same pirates murdered my father and burned Charles Towne to the ground before they went on a spree across the coast." She swiped at her eyes and met his gaze. "And I defended them."

That something hard and awful in Billy's stomach dug its claws into him and started to pull; he slumped a little and lowered his shoulders.

She sighed and sat down on a fallen log. "It was you, then? You gave Charles Vane my journal?"

"Yes," he said, not even bothering to lie.

"And you'd do it again, wouldn't you?" she asked looking up at him with clear eyes.

He answered her without hesitation, "Yes."

"So would I," she said simply as she tried to smile. She sighed and folded her hands in her lap. "You don't need to protect my reputation, Billy. It's been in tatters for quite some time now."

He echoed her sigh and sat down on the sandy ground, laying his sword by his side. He met her gaze and just said, "Tell me."

Shaking her head, she said, "It was rather inevitable, really. I knew enough of society to know that people have very long memories for fantastic stories, whether or not they have the entire truth at their disposal. At the end of the day, I was abducted and spent a great deal of time with pirates. Even though my virtue is still intact, there will always be doubt about it."

Billy'd never had much time for society and now he had even less.

"According to society, I defended the men who kidnapped me," she continued. "I defended the men who murdered people and terrorised the seas. And my father—" Her voice caught a little, but she carried on, "my father was left for dead by these men that I defended. Even if I stood in the middle of the street and begged for forgiveness, it wouldn't be granted. What I did was indefensible and I was informed by friends of my father's that my only solution was to find someone who was willing to take me on and provide some much needed respectability." She made a face. "The hypocrisy in that statement makes me cringe even today."

"How so?" he asked.

"Society's idea of respectability meant that I should pray every night that some dissolute second son took pity on me and offered marriage," she said, her voice hardening. "That I should fall all over myself because Nigel bloody Overton liked the look of me. Never mind that he's racked up gambling debts that stretch from the Americas to London. That's perfectly acceptable, after all." She shook her head. "No. I'd already shared my opinions and been punished for it. I'm not about to stop now."

"Is that where the expedition comes in?" he asked.

She nodded. "Academics care a great deal for their own reputations, but not necessarily that of the person funding them. It was quite by accident that I found myself in their company. I was on my own one afternoon and wandered past the college they're constructing in Williamsburg. I went in and took a seat to listen to a gentleman lecture about the tropics." She shrugged. "Then I bided my time until I came of age and my inheritance came to me. It seems that my father expected me to marry long before that would happen, therefore the will never stated otherwise." She looked down at her hands. "But my father was quite wrong about many things, as it turns out."

He watched her and finally heaved a breath as he shook his head. "Do you know that I've faced down hurricanes, starvation, Flint and Vane at their murderous best, but none of them were half so frightening as you."

Her eyes widened. "I certainly didn't mean to be frightening. How-?"

"Because you're right," he said chuckling. "Because you've had to deal with shit that was never yours and you're angry and lonely and so fucking right about all of it." He squinted at her. "And there's really no point in avoiding you, is there?"

"It's a rather small island," she said, still looking cautious. "But, if you've been avoiding me because, well…" She dropped her eyes. "If it's me you find questionable…"

"'Questionable'?" he repeated confused.

"Yes, I mean, if you don't like me," she said, eyes still focussed on the ground.

"Don't like you?" he repeated, wondering just how she'd come to that conclusion. "Christ, no. I like you, Abigail." Her head rose and he had to smile at her wide eyes and look of surprise. "You take orders with a smile on your face and a spring in your step. You've brains and determination and you've put up with me being a right cock and yeah…" It was Billy's turn to look down. "You're a… I like you. It's not that."

"Oh," she said in a voice so small but hopeful, he had to rub at an ache that panged in his chest at the sound of it. "I like you, too."

He snorted and shook his head. "You shouldn't."

"I don't think –" she started.

"No, Abigail," he said raising his head to look her in the eyes. "You really shouldn't. I gave Vane your journal. And I only spared a moment's thought as to what it would mean to you. I've done… Christ, the things I've done. The things I'm doing and will do." He shook his head. "I kept my distance the last day because I don't want to hurt you any more than I already have done and most likely will do again."

Instead of looking alarmed, she looked positively…calm. Billy furrowed his brow as they stared at one another. She finally broke the silence.

"Are you planning to hurt me, Mr Bones?" she asked.

"What? No, of course not," he said grimacing.

"And you do agree that we are stuck together on this island for the foreseeable future?" she continued.

"Unless you're hiding a ship somewhere," he said considering her. "Yeah, we are."

"Then I suggest we put the past and the future out of our minds as best we can," she said getting to her feet, which were still so wonderfully bare. "I set out on my voyage with every intention of doing just that and I see no reason to not carry on as I was." She stepped towards him and held out her hand. "I propose a truce and that we start over. What say you?"

He stared at her outstretched hand and slowly got to his feet, his eyes locked with hers as he rose. Her head tilted back as she maintained eye contact.

"I say," he said taking her hand and marvelling at the tininess of it. "That had you been in charge of Nassau from the beginning, we wouldn't be on the brink of war."

"That's a lovely compliment, but hardly an answer," she said, her mouth curving upwards.

"Then here's my answer," he said squeezing her hand. "My name is Billy Bones and I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Ashe."

"As am I," she said smiling fully.

"I'd also like to make amends for being an arse," he said. "What can I do?"

Her eyes brightened. "Show me how to build a fire."

"You want to learn how to build a fire?" he asked.

"It seems extremely useful," she said bouncing slightly on her toes.

He laughed. "Yeah, all right then. I'll show you. Just…" He tightened his grip on her hand when she went to pull away. She peered up at him as he hesitated, then said, "Don't just…disappear like that, all right? I turned around and you were gone and it nearly stopped my heart. So, don't do that again."

"I won't," she said smiling up at him. "As long as you stay moderately reasonable, I won't defy you. Too much."

He grinned down at her.

The rest of the day was spent with Abigail doing her level best to learn how to properly strike flint together to get a spark while Billy carried on fashioning a better lean-to. He still insisted on being the one who caught dinner, but he felt certain that she'd only let him get away with that for only so long.

They ate by the fire in a comfortable silence that Billy hadn't experienced in some time and he had to remind himself that despite their truce, he was still keeping a close eye on her, as well as a healthy distance.

Naturally, that all changed three days later when they found the gold.