A Line In The Sand
Chapter Fourteen

It was growing dark around them as James and Victoria sat side-by-side outside the forge. Inside, they could hear the steady rumble of Gibbs's voice and Mary's regular squawking laughter. Victoria had a letter to Elizabeth at her side, she had abandoned it to watch the sun set and was now sitting with her chin propped on her knees.

James was leaning back on his elbows, long legs stretched out in front of him, playing with the blades of grass beneath his fingertips.

The silence that hung between the two of them was neither tense nor awkward. Over the past months it had gradually dissolved back into the companionable silence they had often enjoyed on their evening walks in Port Royal.

Below them, Tortuga was ablaze with the orange of oil lamps spilling from open tavern doors. There was the occasional raucous shout that reached them, the odd bang of a pistol or clang of a sword.

"If you don't think about what half of them are getting up to down there, it's almost beautiful," James commented eventually.

There was the unmistakable sound of a pistol shot and an indignant roar. Victoria laughed.

"Yes, very beautiful."

"Perhaps not," he answered with a smile. "But I have never felt as content as I do here. And I never thought I'd say that."

"I never thought I'd hear it."

"Do you ever miss Port Royal?"

"I miss Will," she said sadly, a keening feeling starting in her chest as she said it, ignoring the other face that swam into her mind when she said her brother's name. "I miss Elizabeth. If only Jack or Barbossa would come with a letter. I've written her seven already and put them away for when one of them comes. But no, I don't miss Port Royal."

"Neither do I. When I returned, it was not the Port Royal of your youth."

"No. Beckett saw to that."

"It wasn't just that. The blacksmith's was closed, boarded up. I have no idea where Brown had gone. There were no more parties at the Governor's house. Will never came to the fort to collect our commissions. I never saw you to talk to on the quayside in the evenings."

She was silent, the remembrance of such easy times made her uncomfortable. Her brother was gone, Elizabeth miles away, she found parts of her self unrecognisable and James knew her far too well.

"I want you to know how much I realised your worth when I was in Port Royal last," James continued quietly.

"James…"

"Please. I must say this. I have gone on too long in silence. You have always been – dear to me, Victoria. I have always considered your friendship as the most valuable in my life and that conviction grew when I found myself without it. I came to realise that you, as well as your friendship, are – infinitely dear to me."

She risked a glance at him and found that he was looking up at her, propped on one elbow now. She couldn't really see his face, but the lights from the streets below twinkled in his eyes.

"I have… I have always loved you, Victoria."

"Enough," she made to stand, scrabbling around for her letter when he grabbed her wrist and held her tight.

"You haven't forgiven me, have you? For betraying you – for being the reason you had to hurt your father."

"You promised never to speak of that!"

"I'm sorry. As I have always been for everything."

"It wasn't your fault," she said tightly. "I did what had to be done. One day I shall be able to ask his forgiveness. You wished to escape a life of piracy; I cannot blame you for that, knowing you as I do."

"And yet, it turns out that it is you that have saved me from a life of piracy."

"And offered you the life of blacksmith's apprentice. Hardly a life befitting an Admiral."

"Perhaps," he answered mildly. "But it is the life Jack's compass led me to."

"Pardon?"

"Jack's compass. He gave it to me the day we docked on Tortuga, that was what I had to return to him. I followed it and here I am."

"The compass led you to this?" she said, gesturing behind her, intending to take in the meagreness of their existence.

Only, it wasn't so meagre. The house had become a home and Mary had long since given up on returning to her laundry house every night, instead taking the room opposite Victoria's. A room Victoria regularly heard Gibbs creep into. The kitchen was full of cured hams, bought from the payments the merchants were steadily making for their wares. The house was always full of the scent of Mary's excellent cooking and Gibbs's laughter.

The light in the kitchen spilled out onto the grass beside them, the warm scent of the forge – scorched metal and donkey – filling the air.

"The compass," James said patiently. "Led me to you."

"Sometimes it is not best to get the thing your heart desires most," she focused on the streets below them, but the lights only reminded her of how they had looked reflected in his eyes. There was a tight, trapped feeling in her chest and she felt that if she didn't do something, something awful would happen.

"Why not?" James asked. "I have been happier here than I have ever been," she shot him an accusing look that he seemed to catch the meaning of even in the dark. "Yes, even when I was Commodore, when I thought I had achieved so much, I was proud, but not exactly happy. But, as I've said before, I am at your service. I am yours to command and if you bid me leave; I'll go and go forever. But if you bid me stay…"

"Don't go," she whispered suddenly, breathing out the words as though trying to deal with something that hurt.

"Pardon?"

"Don't go," she turned to look at him, smoothing her skirt distractedly, unable to meet his eyes. "Will has gone, Elizabeth too. Must I lose everyone I love?"

He sat up straight and laid a hand gently on her cheek. After a moment, he brought the other one up to cup the other cheek.

"You will never lose me," he said firmly. It was his turn to notice the lights of Tortuga glimmering in her eyes, but only for a moment, before they disappeared as she closed them. He dropped an experimental kiss on her lips, pulling away quickly. "Marry me, Victoria."

The grass beneath her seemed to melt away and she was very glad she wasn't standing. She tried to conjure up her father, the feel of the blade sliding into him, the look of confusion on his face. But instead, in her mind's eye, she saw James, the way he had looked down at her when she had stepped so close to insist he came with her, the feel of his body between her legs as she dragged him overboard. She remembered, suddenly, that night in Tortuga when he had tried to kiss her.

She sighed, a resigned sort of sound as all the fight left her, and opened her eyes. She covered one of the hands he still had resting on her cheek, placed the other on his chest and leaned her forehead against his.

"Yes."