CHAPTER 12

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Black Sails. It is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

AN: Finally, another chapter! Took me long enough, right? I figured I'd better post something before people started loosing hope that I'd ever get around to updating again lol. As always, I offer my apologies and assurances that I still haven't abandoned this work. It's just that I've once again been struck with a terrible case of writer's block, so it's been taking me forever to produce anything remotely postable. I've powered through it and come up with something that is hopefully relatively decent, so enjoy! Also, I apologize in advance for the shortness of this chapter. I know my chapters are usually a fair bit longer and equipped with more historical information and detail, but this one seriously kicked my ass so it's considerably shorter and less historically informative. Anyways, onwards!

As always, a big sloppy thank you to everyone still following and reviewing! Those reviews mean a lot to me as a writer. They're super motivating and encouraging and I really appreciate them. You guys are the best :)

DEFINITIONS (Not necessarily period specific, but whatever):

Pundit: A learned person, expert, or authority. A person who makes comments or judgments, especially in an authoritative manner; critic or commentator.

Lad: A boy or youth

Harrier: A person or thing who harries. Which is to to harass, annoy, or prove a nuisance to by or as if by repeated attacks

Hirsute: Hairy; shaggy

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As Eleanor had expected, Teach's assistance had not been granted out of the goodness of his heart or any sudden burst of conscience. Nor had it been given out of fear or anything as simple as a strong distaste for civilized society. Ultimately, Teach had brought those ships to their aid for only one simple reason.

Revenge.

Apparently he hadn't taken too kindly to the English raiding of Ocracoke, the island on which Teach and his fellow racketeers had taken up residence after Nassau's occupation. According to Charles, the English had assailed Teach's camp under the cover of night. The silent vermin had crept in and set fire to many of the tents and lodgings along the beach before anyone had noticed they were there. With the advantage of surprise and the desire to quickly and quietly eradicate the infamous threat known as Blackbeard, the cowards had executed a covert and calculated incursion.

Perhaps Woodes had learned something from her after all.

"Ugh." Eleanor groaned disgustedly to herself and muttered "Yes, that would be just my luck..."

Perhaps all she'd really been doing during all her scheming and plotting was offering all the men in her life new and inventive ways to fuck her over. She might as well have been writing them a Goddamned handbook on shrouded scheming and treachery.

Lovely.

Snapping herself away from those bitter and paranoid thoughts, Eleanor returned to mentally assessing the situation.

The unexpectedness of the attack on Ocracoke meant Teach had lost a considerable number of men and effects in the raid. And after sending a good few of his aggressors into early graves, he'd been forced to flee the island with six ships and the remainder of his men. To Teach's mind, this attack had been entirely unprovoked. Not to mention wholly unnecessary as he'd already decided against participating in the futility of this nonsensical war. Yet the attack had occurred nonetheless, and Teach was not a man to allow such egregious slights to go unpunished.

Add to this the fact that Teach had gotten wind of Charles' capture and subsequent near hanging, and Eleanor began to piece together the situation in it's entirety. The dies had been cast, and Teach had thrown in his chips. The English would pay dearly for their transgressions, and they'd do so with as much blood as they would coin. Victory might not be assured, but replete bloodshed certainly was.

Of this, she was certain.

Teach had rather bluntly informed Charles that if accomplishing such a feat meant siding with a thankless son (presumably Charles), a gangly milksop (no doubt Rackham), an insufferable blowhard (Arguably either Flint or Silver), and a bunch more incompetent nitwits (apparently everyone else), then so be it. If necessary, Teach would bite the bullet and throw in with the whole useless lot of them.

This might have been good news if it weren't for the fact that Teach had yet to be informed of Eleanor's involvement in this endeavor. While that hirsute pain in the ass might well find an alliance with Charles and Flint to be agreeable, Eleanor doubted he would be quite so amicable when it came to her own immersion in all of this. Working alongside the woman who had all but single-handedly cast him from Nassau, turned his would-be son against him, nearly got said son hanged, and then turned around and claimed to want to take it all back?

It wasn't likely to be a notion Teach would welcome with open arms.

It was far more likely Teach would demand blood. More specifically, her blood. The thought was as unsettling as it was credible. Her only salvation would come with the off chance that Flint, Charles and Jack managed to convince Teach and the men of her worth. Surely he could set aside past hostilities in favor of this noble cause. Surely he could be made to see reason and act accordingly.

Yeah. Right. Because Teach is so very reasonable a man.

Eleanor muttered another few choice curses as she raked her fingers through her tangled hair and continued pacing the corridor in which she had been waiting for the past fifteen to twenty minutes. She knew exactly where Charles had learned that infuriating streak of single-minded obdurateness that had so often plagued her.

Fucking Teach.

She tried to tell herself this wasn't the time to dwell on such matters, that it was more important to focus on the task at hand than her resentment towards that bearded harrier. But the fact was, that not twenty feet from her, there sat a room full of men – and one Anne Bonnie – discussing her fate and supposed worth. This fact was more than a little nerve racking. She wasn't accustomed to allowing others to speak for her. She didn't relish the notion of not being present in that room. She wanted to speak for herself. She wanted to storm into that room and demand they see reason, acknowledge the advantages of her involvement and move forward with a plan. She wanted her worth to be plain, universally understood. She was in this and she was in it deep, to the very end. No exceptions.

They needed to believe that. They had to. This was no passing fancy. She would willingly die for this cause.

She just wasn't certain anyone in that room would be able to properly convey that truth. Hence, the desire to get in there and make certain the right things were being said. She needed some control. She never had been much for patience or the allotment of power. She had a tendency to want to take hold of the reigns, to steer things in her own preferred direction as quickly and efficiently as possible. This desire had often proved to be as problematic as it was occasionally beneficial. But the urge was still present, nonetheless.

The only thing stopping her from barreling into that room head first was the fact that she'd sworn she wouldn't. She'd promised Charles that she'd try to let them handle it. He'd said that Flint, Silver and he would argue on her behalf. She didn't want to renege on any more promises, especially not ones she'd made with Charles. And as irrational and unlikely as it was, she still desperately wanted him to trust her, to know without question where her loyalties had finally been lain.

So here she stood; pacing, cursing and wildly uncomfortable with her circumstance.

Hopefully, their supposed argument would be enough to sway Teach and the other crews away from the notion of her immediate demise. But residing on this side of the door, oblivious to the room's inner workings, she could only pray their argument would be adequately convincing.

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"It pains me to say it, but we owe this victory to someone quite unexpected." Jack declared from his standing position near the edge of the table. Seated around the table were Teach, Silver, Madi, Flint and Charles. Anne stood guarding the door against the invasion of any unwanted visitors. No one had asked it of her and it probably wasn't necessary, but she'd done it of her own accord anyway. With a hand resting idly on the hilt of her blade, she leaned incuriously against the wall next to the closed door and equipped her signature scowl.

Jack hadn't offered her a seat at the table because he'd known she'd refuse it. She was far more comfortable ensuring their exits and entries were adequately covered than she was at attempting to exude an air diplomacy she did not actually possess. The possibility that she might actually get to take a shot at Eleanor should she decide to barrel through that door, was likely also an influencing factor in her strategic positioning.

"Without this person's intel," Jack continued. "there is a good chance that many of us would, right now, be laying face down on that beach rather than sitting here enjoying one another's good company. I dare say that –"

"Enough with the circle jerking, Boy." Teach barked impatiently. "Everyone here already knows why I've come, and it's got nothing to do with watching you bootlick."

Jack's face twisted up into the most condescending and falsely cordial expression he could manage. When he spoke, calm and precise, his voice held a tone that perfectly matched the condescension of his face. "Actually, I wasn't referring to you. But of course we very much appreciate you're support. Truly."

Teach's eyes narrowed and Jack had the distinct impression he was envisioning a detailed infliction of bodily harm. As Jack eyed him somewhat wearily, Teach's brow slowly lifted and he spoke with an irritated and sarcastic intone. "Really? Why, did someone else bring in another flotilla? More guns, perhaps? Additional men?"

"Not exactly, no." Jack admitted freely. "They brought numbers, logs, insight into enemy operations. Weapons of a more covert and underhanded nature, yes? In a manner of speaking, I supposed we have ourselves a spy."

When Teach's expression shifted slightly away from irritation and towards interest, Jack quickly elaborated with at twitchy flutter of his hands. "Well, perhaps spy is too strong a word. We had a spy... Sort of." For a moment he looked to be considering his own words, rolling his eyes upward in thought before shaking his head and shrugging dismissively. "Never mind." He corrected as he animatedly waved off the whole 'spy' notion and ignored the incredulous looks he was receiving from just about everyone at the table. "Regardless of past occupations, what we now have is a comprised informant who cannot return to the fray without being hung or imprisoned for their loyalty to us."

Loyalty was a strong word.

Jack glanced toward Charles, who was calmly reclined in his chair and indulging in yet another of his smokes. He maintained the most leisurely outward appearance, a look of total repose and indifference even as Jack was certain he had heard the bullshit statement he'd just spewed. Jack knew damn well that Charles had strong opinions in regards to the woman being discussed, but one would never have guessed that looking at him now. Jack wondered sometimes how a man of such a volatile nature could so effortlessly muster up and maintain an expression of such utter blankness, of total nonchalant unreadability. It was a versatile expression, used as often as a scare tacit as it was as a display of detached disinterest or a method of reading the room and biding his time. Admittedly, it was a talent of which Jack was occasionally envious.

But back to the matters at hand.

The Guthrie bitch was anything but loyal, Jack knew that almost as well as Charles did. But if Teach could be convinced otherwise, there was a good chance they could get the rest of the crews to fall in line. With Flint and Charles already backing the alliance with Miss Guthrie, Teach was the last big name that could carry enough influence to possibly sway the crews in their favor. Silver was an added bonus, the crews liked him and he'd begun building a considerable name for himself as of late.

Teach grunted and picked up his drink, seemingly having already lost interest at the mention of the spy having been compromised, but Jack undauntedly carried on. "But this informant could still prove useful to us. This unlikely partnership can potentially offer us an insight we wouldn't otherwise have had. This person went to great lengths and at no small risk to themselves, to get us the information that allowed us to lure the enemy to slaughter. Having worked so closely with Rogers, this informant gives us an uncanny advantage, a better understanding of the workings of his mind. I don't think –"

"Yes, yes, you're in favor of the partnership. We understand." Teach clipped impatiently. "Get to the point. Who is this person? Where are they now and what, specifically, can they offer us?"

"Here, in camp." Flint interjected plainly, his voice taking on that well read Machiavellian lilt that so often irritated those who knew well enough to smell bullshit. "We thought it best that this individual remain sequestered and nameless until an agreement could be formally reached."

"Oh, you did, did you?" Teach quipped with facetious causticity and a derisive grin.

As Flint narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to retort, Silver abruptly stepped in. "What my intractable captain is trying to say, is that our actions were necessary on account of our source being a target of a rather intense animosity among the men. Had we not been adamant in the concealment of this matter, it is more than likely our little defector would already have met a particularly gruesome end. And, as I'm sure you would agree, a dead informant is hardly an effective informant."

For a moment Teach said nothing, only eyed Silver with the evaluative scrutiny of a pundit sizing up a wayward child. Then he leaned back in his chair and adopted an amused sort of smirk. "Eloquent." He mused. "You've quite the silver tongue, don't you, Lad?"

Silver's mouth quirked up into a somewhat boyish grin as he shrugged and adopted an appropriately demure expression. "I'll take that as a compliment." He decided genially.

"It wasn't." Teach deadpanned.

The smile dropped off Silver's face as quickly as it had come, being swiftly replaced with a look that was far more disgruntled. Clearly, witty charm was not the way to Teach's heart.

Apparently done with the notion of enduring what was undoubtedly a pissing contest, Madi spoke up. Completely ignoring the recently hurled insults, she dove right in and redirected the discussion back to the problem at hand. "This informant of yours has proven a reliable source of information, yes?" She was met with nods from various heads around the table. She went on. "And despite the obvious peril that accompanied sharing this information with us, the role this person played in all of this was an integral aspect of our recent victory. Am I correct?"

"You are." Jack agreed.

Madi shrugged. "Then I see no reason not to continue on with whatever arrangement we have in place. So long as this source continues to deliver, we will continue to secure valuable information."

Charles quirked a brow and held a hand out in Madi's direction. Without words, the gesture clearly stated "See? She gets it."

Jack sighed and nodded. "Yes, that does appear to be true. However, it's unlikely we'll be able to keep all of this hush-hush for much longer. And the moment this gets out among the men, they're going to want blood. Without the unanimous support of everyone in this room, it's unlikely we'll be able to sway the men to see reason. We need –"

"Christ, that's enough." Teach growled. "Do away with all this cloak and dagger nonsense, and bring the bastard here. You're going to tell us who it is anyway, aren't you? What good is all this jabbering if we've no bloody idea who you're on about?"

It was really only Teach and Madi who didn't already know the source was Eleanor Guthrie, but Jack opted to let that little tidbit go. What Teach didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

"He's right, you know." Charles added on an steady exhale of smoke. "This pussyfooting is getting us nowhere."

"Well?" Teach questioned after another tense moment of silence. "Are you just going to sit there looking dumb struck, or are you going to go fetch him?" He asked Jack.

Jack sent Charles one last wary look but was met only with a subtle nod. Resigned, Jack turned towards Anne and whatever look he gave her had her smirking and turning on her heel. She yanked the door open and stormed through it. Seconds after she'd disappeared, an agitated female voice exclaimed "Christ! There's no need to manhandle me, I've got two working legs of my own. I can walk, dammit!"

Teach's eyes widened at the sound of that familiar voice before snapping from Jack to Charles and back again. "You're joking." He grunted with blatant incredulity.

Jack shook his head and muttered dejectedly. "Afraid not."

Charles' face remained a blank slate, offering Teach little more than a steely determined gaze.

The exclamation from outside the door was quickly followed by a grunted "Shut up, Cunt." and a second later Anne reappeared in the doorway dragging behind her a very disgruntled but otherwise unharmed Eleanor Guthrie.