A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay, but I promise I haven't forgotten this story! I hope you enjoy this next chapter!


This, Abigail thought as she pressed her lips to Billy's and felt the rumble of his groan vibrate throughout her body. This was why I boarded the Hadley.

To experience the world with all her senses, to feel things, to explore. To discover everything that the world held and to get a taste of the unknown. It felt as though the entire world had condensed to the not insubstantial size of Billy Bones and he was hers to map out. Her hands roamed over his body, not content to just remain on his face. Her palms smoothed over the broadness of his shoulders, the firmness of his muscles under rough, hot skin. She could feel raised lines under his shirt that had to be scars and she couldn't stop running her hands over and over them, memorizing each one. His hand smoothed down her back to her waist where he fitted his palm in the dip of her stomach and hip. His fingers spread and flexed, she gasped at the sensations that raced through her body. In response, he moaned and his tongue dipped into her mouth as he bore her down onto the gold, his shoulders blocking out the sun so that he was all she was aware of.

She'd seen lovers in a garden once while at a party. The man had cupped the woman's breast while he kissed her. The woman had looked…transported and her mouth had opened to the man's. Such noises they had made. Noises that had all at once embarrassed and inflamed her. It hadn't made sense to Abigail at the time as to why the woman would allow such an action. But now? Oh, now she understood. Billy's tongue was warm inside her mouth and she shivered. He drew back, but she made a small sound and chased after his mouth with hers. With a renewed enthusiasm, Billy resumed kissing her. His stubble tickled her cheeks and chin but she wasn't tempted to laugh. No, she only wanted to feel him against her, so large and strong and overwhelming in the best of ways.

She arched under him as she tried to get as close to him as she could. Some of the gold beneath her clinked to the ground and flashed in the beam of sunlight from the hole in the ground above.

Billy stilled.

A sick feeling rose in Abigail's stomach as he lifted himself up with slow, careful movements. His eyes met hers and they looked pained, especially when they dipped to look at her lips which felt swollen and hot.

"I shouldn't have… That god damn gold," he said wincing as he closed his eyes. "Forgive me."

In one swift movement, he was off of Abigail and striding over to the rope ladder, his back to her.

Something like shame and anger swamped her and her eyes filled with humiliated tears. But she'd be damned if she let him see them. She took a quiet breath and then got to her feet, swiping under her eyes and straightening her dress where he'd rucked it up.

"You'd better go first," she said as she came up behind him. "I won't have the strength to pull you up should the rope break."

He glanced at her and she took some satisfaction in seeing how his own lips resembled hers, all pink and wet. She lifted her chin when he made to speak, but something in her expression must have warned him against saying another word, for he just gritted his teeth and climbed up the rope ladder.

When he was on the ground, Abigail allowed herself a moment to close her eyes and steady her nerves. A trembling hand lightly touched her lips and traced the outline of them. Her first kiss. Her first proper kiss had been in a cave beside a pile of gold and a Spanish skeleton. Perhaps that old missionary lady had been right and Abigail was a mess and desperately in need of deliverance. She dropped her hand and dismissed the missionary's voice from her mind, and then she climbed up the ladder.

"We should cover this back up," Billy said after he helped her to her feet, taking his hands away from her as soon as she was stable. He eyed her with a fair amount of apprehension and she wondered what kind of expression she wore. Her cheeks felt hot and her jaw ached from how tightly she clenched it.

"Whatever you think is best," she said her hands folded together in front of her.

He paused and grimaced before he looked at her and said, "Look, I have no problem with what I am, all right? I'm a pirate. I'm not some gentleman who will be everything you'd like him to be. I can't make you any promises and I refuse to give into my own urges and… And…"

"And what?" she asked, her eyes narrowed. "You weren't the only participant down there. So, please do me the courtesy of acknowledging that I was just as…involved in our interlude as you were. I'm not so innocent to not know what happens between a man and a woman."

"Yeah, but I'm sure you're not wanting to have it happen with a man who hasn't got two coins to rub together," he said, before he pointed his finger at her. "And that treasure down there doesn't count. I'm not an option for you, Abigail. So, don't go thinking that I am."

"What are you talking about? It was a kiss. A simple kiss," she said completely lying to herself. There was nothing simple about that kiss and they both knew it.

"The hell it was," he said stepping in close to tower over her. "And if you're not level-headed enough to see it for the danger it is, I sure as hell am."

"I'm perfectly level-headed!" she said, not stamping her foot, but it was a close thing. "You're the one who is overreacting."

"I'm not overreacting!" he shouted.

Abigail's eyes widened and she nearly took a step back; but Billy took one himself and lowered his head.

"It's no good, Abigail," he said, his voice low and dull. "I shouldn't have kissed you in the first place. I started this and I'm sorry for it."

"I see," she said, her eyes betraying her again as they watered. "Well, then, I don't suppose there's anything to add. We shall just have to move forward. We're still in our original situation; that hasn't changed. In fact, nothing has truly changed."

"Yeah, it has," he said chuckling, but not he didn't sound the slightest bit amused, as he looked up. "I know what its like to touch you. I know what you taste like and how your body feels against mine. And I'm not going to be able to forget that anytime soon."

A flush filled her cheeks and her heart thudded in her ribcage, even as her stomach churned with a bittersweet delight.

"Neither will I," she said softly. "Billy-"

"Fill up the water bucket," he said turning away from her. "I'll sort this out."

She watched as he started to fashion something to cover the hole and eventually, she turned away. Emotions warred for prominence in her mind and because the others were too depressing to consider, Abigail settled on irritation. Irritation at the world, at Billy, and at herself for allowing herself to dream, if only for a few heated, lovely moments, of something undiscovered.

She filled the bucket with jerky movements, not daring to look over at him for fear that she'd chuck the entire thing at his head. When she was done, she chanced a glance, only to discover that he was already watching her.

With every ounce of good breeding in her, she straightened her spine, steeled her expression, picked up the water bucket, and walked away.

Abigail tried not to storm off, as ladies did not 'storm', but her tread was decidedly sharp, and she was well aware that Billy had stopped to stare after her with regret etched all across his face.

Well, she thought as she held her head high. If he didn't want regrets, he shouldn't have done anything. As if all I want from a man is his prospects. If all I wanted were decent prospects, I would have stayed in Savannah. As if I'm not perfectly aware of who he is and who he considers crew. Why should he hold me to different standards than he holds himself? Am I forever to be underestimated?

In answer, the water sloshed from the bucket to her skirts and she scowled but kept striding forward.

"Ridiculous, short-sighted, irritating," she muttered. "Pirates."

She emerged onto the beach and it was really due to her anger that she didn't quite understand what she saw and continued to walk herself out into the open. Once she realised that there was something on the beach, she'd already walked quite clear of the cover of the trees.

Abigail came to an abrupt stop, the water sloshed even more onto her skirts, and stared at the odd object that lay halfway in the surf and halfway on the beach. She cocked her head to the side as she set the bucket down and tried to place what the object actually was. It looked like an oversized woven basket, large enough for a grown man to sit in comfortably, but certainly no more than one at a time. A small oar was abandoned on the beach a few steps away from the craft and Abigail eyed them both with dawning suspicion.

Memories of a garden party she'd attended once with her parents as a child flashed behind her eyes and she recalled seeing something similar being used in a decorative pond.

The host had a brother who was fond of history and had managed to find such an object and had demonstrated how well it floated with someone inside. The word for the little boat came into Abigail's head.

"A coracle?" she murmured. "What on earth?"

It occurred to her that perhaps storming off hadn't been the wisest idea. Especially when she heard a sound coming from the shelter.

It was a man.

A man stood beside their fire as he peered into their shelter.

How…? She glanced at the coracle. Had he rowed here? And the better question was: why had he rowed here?

Abigail's eyes widened and her jaw dropped and she immediately plucked her little knife from her sash, just as the person spotted her.

They stared at one another for a very long second.

"Hiya," the man eventually said. "Fancy meeting a lady here. Wasn't really expecting that, if I'm honest."

Abigail blinked and continued to stare. The man was terribly thin and had a very strong Irish accent. His face was pinched and he bore a straggly beard and his clothes looked like they were barely held together.

"Name's Murphy," he continued, his cheerful tone utterly belying the odd state of affairs they currently found themselves in. "I have to say, I truly wasn't expecting to meet such a pretty girl like this. I'd've smartened meself up, if I'd known. Wait." He drew himself up and narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you real? I mean, this isn't me having one of those dream things where I meet a pretty girl and then realise that it's all in me head and not in real life?" He pinched himself and then winced. "Fuck. Real enough. Are you?"

Abigail nodded, still bewildered. "Yes. I'm quite real."

"Ooh, listen to your voice," he said closing his eyes. "You're a proper lady, I can tell." His eyes popped open. "What the hell are you doing out here? There's nothing here. There's no reason for a lady to be-ohhhhhhh. Oh, I get it." He nodded and walked towards her, Abigail took a step back. "You're not a lady lady. You're a mermaid or one of those things me ma was always telling me to look out for. A, what do you call 'em, a fairy! You're a fairy mermaid like thing, ain't you?"

"No, no, I'm afraid I'm just a lady," Abigail said taking another step back, her knife held tight in her hand.

He spotted the knife and stopped to frown. "I'm not going to hurt you, mermaid. I wouldn't hurt one of the fairy folk. I'm from Ireland. I know all about the nastiness you'd do to a bloke like me if I laid a hand on you."

"That's comforting," Abigail said taking another step back and wondering if she'd gone mad or if this man had honestly appeared on the beach and was mistaking her for a mermaid.

"You don't believe me?" the man asked, still frowning. "Look, I swear on me ma's life. I mean, I don't know if she's dead yet, but she was halfway there when I left and said that if I walked out the door, I'd be finishing her off, so odds are the woman's long gone, bless her wretched soul."

"I...believe you," Abigail said after she'd figured out what he'd said.

"Ah, you don't," he said grinning as he shook his head. "But that's just because you don't think I'm real. Look. I'll show you."

He walked quickly towards her and Abigail stepped back and yelled as loud as she could.

"Billy!"


Well. He'd always suspected as much, but here was absolute proof, Billy thought as he watched Abigail walk away from him. He was a very large idiot.

All that talk about being level-headed and how he shouldn't have kissed her was all bollocks. He was just a complete bastard to her because the last thing he was was level-headed. She turned his thoughts turtle constantly and he closed his eyes against the sight of her walking away from him. However, once his eyes closed, all he saw were her lips, full and ripe and sweet after he'd kissed her.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his head. He had to get a hold on himself. They still had a god damn desert island to get off of and Christ, her body had felt so soft under him and the way she'd touched him…

"Billy!"

The pure fear in Abigail's voice stopped his heart, but in the next moment, he ran towards the beach, his cutlass in hand.

A thousand different scenarios ran through his head as he raced between the trees, however, nothing could have prepared him for the sight of Abigail standing in a near perfect imitation of his own defensive position, except she held her little knife in her hand, as opposed to a proper sword.

Said knife was pointed directly at...what the fuck was Drunk Murphy doing on their beach?

"The fuck?" Billy said as he came to stand in front of Abigail, his cutlass aimed at Murphy. "How the fuck are you even here?"

"Billy!" Murphy said grinning. "Heard you drowned! Again. Oh, is she your mermaid? Did she save you and take you as her prisoner?"

Billy stared at him before he glanced back at Abigail who just shrugged and said, "He's not entirely sure if I'm real or imaginary." She looked at Murphy and wrinkled her nose. "I must confess that I'm not entirely sure of his own corporeality. You know him?"

"Sort of," Billy said turning back to Murphy and lowering, but not putting away, his cutlass. "Seriously, Murphy. What the fuck?"

"Well, I was at the tavern-"

"Of course you were," Billy muttered.

"And old Bailey what's-his-face said that there was no way that a man could make it across the ocean in a coracle alone," Murphy said. "Which is a damn lie! My ancestors did! It's a well known fact that an Irishman and a Welshman rowed their way across the big blue ocean in naught but a coracle."

Billy glanced at Abigail again, whose eyes were wide as she watched Murphy gesticulate as he told his tale. She met his eyes briefly and in an attempt to reassure her that they were safe, he winked at her. Her lips twitched and satisfied, Billy turned back to Murphy.

"-then he said something about the lack of virility of Irishmen and well, that's just a fucking lie, begging your pardon, miss, and really I couldn't let the insult lie," Murphy continued. "He'd insulted me ma, me heritage, and me virility in one go! That just wasn't fucking on, begging your pardon, miss, so I says to him, 'Just what does a man need to do to prove his fucking worth, you fucking English dog?', begging your pardon again, miss."

Murphy took a breath and by this point, Billy could see where the story was headed.

"Bailey bet that you couldn't row a coracle anywhere and you accepted the bet?" Billy offered, his eyebrows arched.

Murphy touched his nose and winked. "Always were a sharp lad, Billy. Bailey's a damn fool, 'cause here I fucking am. Begging your pardon, miss."

"You really don't need to," Abigail reassured him.

"And here you are!" Murphy said. "Jesus, Billy, they all think you're fucking dead. Again."

Billy had thought that would be the case, but to have it confirmed turned his stomach. No one had planned to find him. He wasn't surprised, but he was disappointed.

"So, she capture you?" Murphy asked nodding at Abigail. "Drag you down and bring you here? She having her way with you?"

"I beg your pardon?" Abigail's voice rose and Billy winced.

"She's not a mermaid, Murphy," Billy said putting his cutlass away.

"She looks like one," Murphy said looking Abigail up and down. "I'd let her drown me."

"I'm not-" Abigail started to say, but Billy interrupted her and said, "If she's a mermaid, where's her tail, then?"

Murphy looked stumped, then brightened, his eyes crinkled as he grinned. "She's on land, mate. Her tail's only around when she's in the water."

"I'm really not," Abigail tried to say again.

"Well, you've got me there. You're right, Murph," Billy said stepping back and laying his hand on Abigail's shoulder. "She's a mermaid."

"What?" Abigail said as Murphy crowed, "Ha! Knew it! Billy, you've got the Devil's luck, you have! You can't just bloomin' drown like a normal bloke, you've got to be rescued by a mermaid and taken back to her island. Christ."

"What are you doing?" she hissed at Billy, her eyes sharp as they glared at him.

"It's fine," he murmured. "Just play along."

Her glare intensified in pure dissatisfaction at his non-answer, but he winked at her again. In response, she elbowed his stomach.

"Don't suppose you've anything to eat?" Murphy asked scratching his chin. "Haven't had much in the way of food since I left Nassau."

"How long were you at sea?" Abigail asked.

"Oooh, er," Murphy said putting his hands on his hips as he looked up at the sky. "Four, no, five days."

"Fuck, Murphy," Billy said shaking his head. "You're lucky you're alive."

"Ah, I had the winds and the current and the truth on my side," he said grinning. "Remember. My lot made our way across the ocean before. This was a doddle."

"How much drink did you bring with you?" Billy asked.

Murphy's face fell. "Only one flask left, to me horror. Gonna have to pace meself for the row back."

"You're going back?" Abigail asked.

"'Course I am," Murphy said. "Gotta get me winnings from Bailey. And let this one's crew know that he's not dead, merely enjoying the affections of a beautiful lady."

"If you could find a better way of phrasing that, I'd be much obliged," Billy said. "Let's get you fed, mate."

"Brilliant!" Murphy said rubbing his hands together. "Oh, if you're hoping that fire of yours can be seen for miles, it can't. Only really spotted it when I saw the reef out there."

Billy glanced at Abigail sheepishly, but she just returned his look with an arched eyebrow and he hoped like hell that having Murphy around might provide a kind of buffer between them while he figured out how to proceed with her after being such a bastard.

In the meantime, he'd feed Murphy and themselves, build up the fire even more, and see what the situation in Nassau was like.

However, not an hour had passed and he'd considered throwing Murphy into his god damn floating basket at least twice.

He'd forgotten how the man couldn't be silent for more than a heartbeat at a time. Christ, the man could talk.

But what was worse?

Abigail listened to him. She asked questions. She smiled.

She laughed.

Billy stewed.

He stood in the surf, his teeth gritted together, his cutlass at the ready for the ever present crabs, only able to catch the odd bit of phrase from the two people behind him on the breeze.

Every now and then, Abigail's laughter would peal from her, quiet and light and when it did, his cutlass would inevitably find some poor sea creature to impale.

A dozen crabs later, he headed up to where Abigail had already readied their makeshift pot, while Murphy happily whittled away at a bit of driftwood whilst talking constantly.

"And that's when he says that he's putting up notices of dicks for people to read," Murphy said.

Abigail flushed at the word and Billy asked sharply as he dropped the crabs, "What?"

"The governor," Murphy said eyeing the crabs with hungry eyes. "He's putting up dicks all over the island."

"Dicks?" Billy repeated, not looking at Abigail who was busy not looking at either of them while she dropped the crabs into the boiling water.

"Yeah, lists of things we're to do and not to do," Murphy said.

"Christ," Billy muttered. "Edicts. They're called edicts. And people are letting him get away with it?"

"Well, yeah," Murphy said whittling quickly. "We can't all read as well as you, mate. Certainly can't write, so…" He blew some dust off the wood and eyed it. "So he keeps putting them up and we keep ignoring them. Until someone does one of the things on the paper and gets locked up. Then a fight breaks out and the sorry mess starts all over again." He looked up at Billy. "You know, there are days when, if I wasn't sure that the Spanish would just murder us all in one go, that I'd be happier with old Phillip than old Georgie."

"Yeah," Billy said frowning. "What're the captains doing about it?"

Murphy shrugged. "Not a whole hell of a lot. Eyeing each other and snarling every so often. See that Silver with Flint and Christ, if I don't get the shivers something terrible. Was there, you know? The night he killed Mr DuFresne with that damned leg of his."

Billy looked over at Abigail, whose eyes had gone very wide as she looked at Murphy.

"Murphy," Billy said sharply.

The other man raised his head and glanced at Abigail. "Oh, yeah, not exactly polite conversation. Sorry about that, mermaid."

"It's quite all right," she said glancing at Billy who looked away.

"Anyway," Murphy said whittling quickly. "The captains are all circling the harbour like sharks while the rest of us on land are keeping out of the redcoats' ways. Well, some of us are keeping out of their way. There aren't that many to be bothering with."

Billy shook his head. "Edicts. He's issuing orders to men who'd rather spit in his eye than follow him. He's got some fucking nerve. It's not the threat of the British that's keeping the Spanish at bay, it's us. It's Teach and Flint and all the rest of us who're hellbent on protecting what's ours. Not the fucking governor. Christ."

His hands balled into fists as he stared into the flames. When he got to Nassau, he'd tell the governor precisely what he could do with his edicts.

"I believe one of these is ready to eat." Abigail's voice interrupted Billy's dark thoughts. "Mr Murphy, he's all yours."

"Ohh, I couldn't eat before a lady," he said, setting his knife and the bit of wood down.

"You can and you will," Abigail said handing him a crab.

The rumble that came from Murphy's stomach had Billy hiding a grin and he caught Abigail's eyes when she looked down to cover her own smile. Their eyes met and Billy was once again in that cave, her mouth moving sweetly under his and his hand was on her waist and all he wanted to do was pull her closer…

She looked away from him, her cheeks pink and Billy cursed internally. Steady on, lad he told himself. Stop acting like an idiot. Stop wanting things you can't have.

He made sure that she had the next crab and tried not to stare as she, now expertly, cracked the thing open and got the meat out with a steady flick of her knife. Murphy, on the other hand, watched her avidly.

"Good Lord, mermaid, you're a sight with that knife of yours," he said shaking his head. "Bet you could gut a man in a heartbeat."

She flushed while Billy rolled his eyes, and she replied, "I'm afraid I don't know how to fight, Mr Murphy."

"No? Billy, what the hell, mate? This is a lovely young woman," Murphy said glaring at Billy. "You need to make sure she can fend for herself when she sets you free."

He had no way of knowing, but Murphy's words struck Billy in his chest. When she sets you free. Fuck. That's what had been bothering him the whole god damn time. Not the pain that he'd cause her, but the pain she'd surely cause him. He wondered if this made him smart or a coward?

"It's quite all right, Mr Murphy," Abigail said before she sucked at a crab leg. "I have no intention of starting any fights anytime soon. And I suspect Mr Bones needs to conserve his energy for the fight ahead."

Billy's head turned sharply to look at her and she just returned his look, before popping another bit of crab into her mouth. He felt his mouth twitch and curve into a smirk. He had a feeling that he wasn't exactly forgiven, but all was not lost either. Which meant he needed to figure out what the hell he was doing. For she was right, there was a war going on, and he meant to see it through to whatever end it brought them all.

They ate in relative silence, Murphy devoured six crabs to Billy's four and Abigail's two, but Billy hardly begrudged the man for his appetite. Five days at sea with only rum was hardly sustenance enough. After they ate and Billy tossed the shells down the beach, Murphy took his whittling back up and Abigail sat in front of the fire, her knees pulled up to her chest and rested her cheek atop them.

Billy cleaned and sharpened his cutlass and listened with half an ear to Murphy's ramblings.

"Now, then," Murphy said eventually, blowing some shavings off whatever he was creating. "That should do it. Mermaid, this is for you."

Billy paused, his blade flat against the whetstone, and Abigail lifted her head.

"I'm sorry?" she asked.

"It's only a little thing," Murphy said getting to his feet, Billy set aside his blade and watched. "But I'm not about to eat your food and sleep on your island without giving you a gift of some sort. It's just not done."

He handed Abigail the wood he'd been carving and Abigail took it. Billy squinted at it even as Abigail gasped in delight.

"A comb! Oh, how lovely," she said turning the comb over in her hands. "Oh, thank you, Mr Murphy. It's wonderful! How clever of you to create this!"

Murphy ducked his head. "Like I said, just a little thing, but I'm much obliged that you like it."

"Well, I'm much obliged to receive it," she said smiling up at him. "I'll treasure it in the days to come."

Billy felt a frown build on his face, but he looked away when Abigail glanced at him and he went back to his blade.

"Well, I need to see a man about a horse," Murphy said winking before he headed off into the woods.

"That was kind of him," Abigail said turning the comb over in her hands. "Does he truly think I'm a mermaid? And if so, why are you letting him?"

"Because, Murphy is our best chance at a rescue," Billy said. "However, you may have noticed that he's not quite all there. He's a decent enough fellow, don't get me wrong, but the man did row himself into the sea in a basket."

"True," Abigail said, as she tugged at her plait, and undid the ribbon at the end. She undid the three long sections as best she could, and then swept it all to drape over her shoulder. Her new comb in hand, Billy watched with a suddenly dry mouth, as she set the comb to the very ends of her hair. She looked up at him and even though she blushed at seeing him studying her, she continued to comb her hair and asked, "However, why persist in the mermaid myth?"

Billy cleared his throat and looked away from her. "Because, his memory's not the best and while he might remember running into someone on an island, he might not remember the specifics. But, I'll wager he'll definitely remember that Billy Bones had washed up on a mermaid's island and was being held captive by her. That's the kind of detail that sticks with a man."

"Clearly," Abigail said.

He glanced over at her and saw that she'd combed out most of the snarls in one section of her hair and pulled the comb easily through the dark strands. He found himself hypnotized by the sight and just watched her comb her hair. The motion seemed to lull her as well as her expression as she stared into the firelight turned thoughtful even as her hands stayed in motion.

Eventually, her hair was a shining mass of brown tresses and he had the mad urge to reach out to them, and let them sift through his fingers like the silk he imagined they felt like.

However, he held himself in check and simply watched her separate her hair into the original three sections and plaited them together, and tied the ends together once more with her ribbon.

She sighed in relief and looked over at him. Her mouth parted when she realised that he'd watched her ritual.

"Murphy's gift was something of a saving grace," she said. "I was a few days away from asking you to take your sword to my hair to make it more manageable."

"I would have hated doing that," he said.

"Would you?" she asked, her words sharp, but her face gave nothing away.

Billy sighed. "Yes. You're beautiful, Abigail."

"Don't," she said shaking her head. "Don't say things like that. You're not free to say things like that to me and I don't know if I'm strong enough to let myself think I could have you like that."

"What do you mean?" he asked completely confused. "I'm free to –"

"No, you're not," she said. "You're in the middle of a war that needs your counsel and your strength. You're going to send Murphy back out onto that sea in a bloody coracle because you need to be with your brothers. You have to finish what you started." She took a trembling breath. "And that does not include me."

Billy went cold and still.

"And it's all right," she said smiling sadly at him. "You were right earlier. It wasn't a simple kiss and you're not an option for me. But it isn't because of what you are, but because of what you have left to do. I'd only be an afterthought for you." She pulled her knees back up to her chest and rested her chin on them as she stared into the fire. "And I'm a rather selfish girl, because I'd like to be someone's priority for a change. I've been an afterthought and a pawn my whole life. I'd like to find someone who will put me first. However, at the moment, the only person capable of doing so…is me."

She tilted her head to look at him, her eyes shone in the firelight and his chest ached. "It was a lovely kiss, though. And I won't be forgetting it anytime soon, either."

They stared at one another for several long moments, and while Billy knew that she was no mermaid, he truly wondered if she was a witch. She had plucked every single thought out his head and said them aloud. He should've felt relieved but all he felt was…hollow. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but something crashed in the woods behind them, followed by cursing.

"Christ, did you know that there's some sharp branches out there?" Murphy said as he came back to the fire. "Nearly fell head first into a palmetto." He glanced at Abigail and smiled. "Hair looks lovely, mermaid."

"Thank you," she said smiling back. "If you gentlemen will excuse me, I'm going to retire." She got to her feet as did Billy and she looked up at him in surprise, but he found he couldn't say a word. He just stood there, awkward and aching all over. She smiled a little and nodded. "Good night."

"Night, mermaid," Murphy said cheerfully.

"Good night," Billy said, that sick hollow feeling spread through him as he watched her duck into the shelter. She adjusted her palm pallet and then lay down, the shadows created by the flickering flames danced on the soles of her bare feet.

He sat down heavily and stared at the fire, his blade and whetstone forgotten by his side.

She was right.

She was bloody right. Everything she'd said was the truth and it was logical and she'd given voice to every single reservation he had in his head and added a few of her own. The issue should have been resolved. So why the hell did he feel fucking horrible?

"Billy, tell the truth," Murphy said after awhile. "Your girl's not really a mermaid, is she?"

He paused, but then Billy shook his head. "Nah, she's not a mermaid." He glanced at her still form in the shelter. "But I'm beginning to think she's just as rare as one."


A/N2: Was anyone expecting that? If it helps, I've cast Joe Gilgun as Murphy. He currently plays Cassidy on Preacher and was on Misfits ages ago.