"I generally avoid temptation unless I can't resist it." –Mae West
-o-
When the Assassins arrived back at the Homestead, there was little conversation. Jacqueline led Blanche to the stables and began taking the saddle from her back. Connor followed, and began doing the same to his own. There was a pause; she could feel the questions coming. Then, while she was hanging up the saddle, "Are you upset?"
She stopped and looked at Connor. "Upset?"
"You are acting oddly."
"Hmm." She nodded, and all at once exploded. "Upset? Of course I'm upset!" Stalking around the front of the stables, she grabbed him by the front of his robe and shook him angrily. "What the hell were you thinking? You threw yourself at an army! Are you insane? Are you insane?!"
Taken aback, he grabbed her hands and shoved them away so he could stand up straight; she was a good few inches shorter than him. "It was the only way to get to Pitcairn."
"I just…ugh! I was worried sick, I thought for sure you would get killed, and…" She shook her head, frazzled and agitated. "Don't you ever do anything so stupid ever again, you hear me?"
"I…" Connor seemed unsure of what to say. He was saved from answering, however, by the arrival of someone else.
"Ahoy there, Jack!" Thomas the lookout hopped over the fence to the stables, smiling.
"Oh! Salut, Thomas!" Jacqueline smiled.
"Good to see you back from givin' the Regulars what for, eh?" He gave her shoulder a friendly slap, and she pushed him back with a laugh. "That drunkard first mate Faulkner sent me soon as he heard you'd come back. Sounds like he's got a bit of a job for you pair. How you feelin' about getting' back on the sea?"
"It sounds like a good break from close combat." She agreed. "Right, Connor?" He only nodded in agreement. "Alors, we've nothing to do right now, so we may as well go."
Before they started off, Connor grabbed her arm. "I'm sorry for worrying you."
Jacqueline wanted to be angry with him. She really, really wanted to be angry. But being angry was hard when you weren't. So she sighed and turned to him. "I know. Just stop being so stupid."
She hesitated, and then pulled him into a short embrace. He smelled like grass and the sun. When he shifted closer to hug her back, lightly placing his arms around her waist, he accidentally stepped on her foot. Jacqueline yelped in pain. Connor stepped back from her like she was flammable, clearly concerned, but she only laughed and rubbed her warm face.
"Leave it to you to ruin a moment, Ratonhnhaké:ton." She shook her head. "Come on, the Aquila awaits."
As she turned to walk away Thomas intercepted her and picked her up, slinging her over his shoulder, holding her there by the knees. "Avast, fair maiden! I've come to kidnap you away to the Seven Seas!" And he awkwardly jogged away with his prize, chuckling.
Jacqueline laughed and let him carry her for as long as he could, which was about halfway down the hill to the wharf. They ran the rest of the way, and for a moment she felt like a child again. For a moment she could forget the things she had seen while working with Martin, and crossing Charlestown. For a moment, it was wonderful.
Then out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of something and promptly tripped in her shock. It was a magnificent trip, too, as they were on a hill, and she did a full somersault before coming to a stop on her backside. "It can't be…" She whispered.
Connor came jogging up behind her. "What happened?"
But she wasn't listening, and bolted off to dive into the foliage beside the path. "Get back here!" She cried. "Come back!"
"Jacqueline, what are you doing?" Connor asked. In response she drew out a throwing knife and hurled it into the nearest tree.
"The person stalking me!" She snapped. "They're here. They followed me to my home, that spineless coward."
"You said that they weren't going to harm you." Connor confirmed.
"Ouais, but I can't say the same for the other way around. Now let's go to the Aquila before I start ripping my hair out."
-o-
The first night on the ship was fun. It always was, because everyone was happy to be out to sea again, even though the following two weeks or so would be less merry and more boring. But for the time being they could enjoy themselves. Thomas brought Jacqueline and himself two bottles of rum—one each—and they got well and drunk along with the rest of the crew. Somehow, as Jacqueline's memory flickered in and out frequently, she and Thomas ended up above deck. They weren't alone by a long shot. There were still a few sorry souls clanking about and steering the ship and such while the rest made merry under their feet.
"Why is the rum gone?" Jacqueline lamented loudly to the sky, waving her empty bottle before throwing it over the side.
"I think…" Thomas hiccupped and giggled at himself. "I think you drank it all."
She nodded slowly, taking that in. "Oui, oui. Hm…yes, that makes sense."
The lookout laughed. "You're drunk!" He squealed.
"No, you're drunk." She countered, the pinnacle of eloquence. "Your face is dr…is drunk."
"Lass, you're really drunk. Really drunk. You're…" He trailed off and staggered, flailing in panic as his sense of balance left him alone with the rocking of the ship. When he righted himself, he said, "You know you're very pretty."
"Why thank you kind sir." Jacqueline gave him an exaggeratedly low bow, almost until her nose touched her knees. She was trying to speak in a British accent, which was getting mangled with her natural French one. "I declare you are a most handsome gentleman yourself. Forsooth!"
Thomas fumbled for her hand and spun her closer, and then dipped her down. Jacqueline giggled madly and patted his cheek. "Your face!" She exclaimed, rubbing his face. "It's all…scritchy scratchy." She tugged him down to kiss both sides of his face.
"Now that's a French 'ello!" He grinned.
Someone emerged from below decks, and Jacqueline could at least see that much. It was Connor, looking around in confusion. "Oh!" He said when he saw them. "I thought you were…I, uh…sorry." And he disappeared again.
"Poor bastard." Thomas moved them into a standing position. "Didn't mean for that to happen. Suppose this looked a bit," A hiccup. "Compromisin'."
"Compromising?" She stumbled to lean against the rail of the ship. "Why would it be compromising?"
He only shook his head in pity. "Poooor bastard. Best go after him."
Jacqueline didn't ask why she should, but it rather felt like she should and so she did. Getting down the stairs to the underbelly of the ship was a challenge in her current state of inebriation. Taking it slow and steady, she made it down and looked around for Connor. Probably having retreated to the captain's quarters, she made her way there. When she knocked on the door there was no answer at first.
"Connor?" She called at the doorframe. "I know you're awake, Connor!"
After a long pause, the door opened. He was still dressed in his captain's wear, though his trifold hat was sitting on his desk. Jacqueline had her own seafaring garb as well, though less extravagant. The way he was looking at her, though, made her brain clear up somewhat. It was unusual to see him as such, but she recognised the look. He was not happy with her.
"I thought you were with Thomas." His voice was cold.
"Just full of surprises, aren't I?" Jacqueline regarded him a moment. "So, what have I done wrong this time?"
"Nothing." He answered a bit too quick.
She rolled her eyes and snorted, perhaps a bit too loud. "Don't even try that with me, Ratonhnhaké:ton. I know you way too well for you to lie. By the way, you're a really bad liar."
Connor opened his mouth slightly to respond, his brow furrowed, looking conflicted. In that instant it struck Jacqueline like a slap to the face, and was surprised she hadn't noticed. Maybe she should stop drinking.
"Mon dieu." She said. "You're jealous of Thomas."
"No, I am not." Connor replied vehemently.
"Fine." She turned around and raised her voice. "Attention crew of the Aquila, Connor is j—!"
He slapped a hand over her mouth and dragged her backwards into the open door. When he released her inside, she laughed and jumped up to sit on his desk. "I knew it. What's your problem with him?"
"You barely know him." Connor snarled.
"So?" Jacqueline chuckled. "We were just having some fun."
"You cannot just go throwing yourself at random strangers—"
"What I do and who I throw myself at is my business, Ratonhnhaké:ton." She reached back and put his hat on. "And Thomas is hardly a random stranger."
He sighed, clearly frustrated. "I am trying to look out for your safety."
Jacqueline hopped off the desk and walked toward him with what could arguably be a saunter. She walked toward him until he was forced to back up, and continue to back up until he was against the wall, and even then she took another step closer so she was certainly within his personal space.
"Unless," She nearly purred, "You think I'm not throwing myself at the right random strangers."
Connor hesitated, watching her like she was a volatile explosive with something close to apprehension. "That was not what I meant." He paused. "You're drunk."
"That's quite possible." A pale finger reached up to fiddle with the braid next to his cheek, and she leaned in. Her other hand was lightly holding a strap that crossed his chest, though what purpose it served remained a mystery. "I hope that's not a problem."
He was so close she could feel the whisper of breath on her cheek. Every movement in the cabin seemed to have stopped, all the way down until that moment became the pause between heartbeats, the silence before thunder struck. His hands rested on her hips. She was close enough that she could again catch a whiff of his forest scent. Their noses brushed, and then ever so gently—
The entire ship rocked to the side with a massive KA-BOOM! The Assassins were thrown about the captain's quarters, Jacqueline especially due to her mental state. "What the hell was that?" She exclaimed.
Faulkner threw open the door. "We've been spotted, cap'n! Regulars!" He glanced and nodded at Jacqueline. He didn't question why she was in his room in the middle of the night.
"Not a moment of peace…" Jacqueline grumbled. Tossing Connor's hat to the side, she ran out of the cabin and onto deck.
There were indeed British ships; the Crown had likely grown and carefully tended to a vendetta against the Aquila after their first encounter outside Martha's Vineyard. That would explain their unwarranted attack, anyway. The crew was fumbling and sliding around the sea-sprayed deck—they were unprepared for battle, some had been sleeping and weren't even dressed, and all of them were at least a little bit tipsy. Meanwhile, the vessels on their starboard side didn't seem like they were going to stop their assault for the sake of fair play. It was absolute chaos.
"Whoa!" Jacqueline leaned back as a full bottle of wine went flying past her, followed by exactly one pair of trousers. She started to make her way to the main mast and tripped over some poor bloke putting on his boots.
That turned out to be a stroke of good luck for once, because a volley of cannon fire blasted apart some of the starboard hull, flinging chips of wood across deck. Eventually she managed to get to the mast and climb to the crow's nest. Thomas was already there, holding his head and groaning. "Just one day without some bloody British arses disturbing the peace…"
"Uh oh." Jacqueline grabbed a spyglass from their tiny storage up there and looked out at the ships. The largest one was steering directly at them. Turning her gaze up, she could even see the tiny figure of the lookout watching them through his own spyglass. "They're going to board us!"
"Then we've no time to pity our sorry hides." Thomas grabbed up the bayonets that were kept in the nest and handed one to her.
"I'm needed on deck. Watch yourself, Thomas." She grabbed a rope, cut it, and swung down to deck.
"And you too, Jack!" He called after her.
Jacqueline's feet touched the deck as the British ship smashed into the starboard side. Being tossed to and fro, she lurched to the side of the ship and heaved her guts out into the ocean. She needed to stop drinking. When she got a hold of herself, the ship was preparing for battle. Hooked lines were being tossed over the small gap between ships to keep them connected without chance of the Aquila's escape. It was indeed a large frigate of war, and their smaller, fleeter ship stood little chance on its own.
Men trudged up from under the deck carrying guns and swords. There was a pause, stillness in the air where the grinding of wood on wood and steel singing and yelling came to a lull.
Then a fiery cloud of smoke and bullets erupted. Redcoats charged onto the ship, and the Aquila's crew roared back with a thundering of footsteps and gunshots. Jacqueline thrust the bayonet through the chest of a Regular to her left, and pulled it out with so much force that the butt struck another soldier behind her in the face. She swung her leg out to trip him up and stabbed him into the Aquila's deck, now slippery with blood.
A flash of blue and white darted past her, and she watched as Connor recklessly jumped across to the attacking vessel. Part of her wanted to join him, part of her didn't, and part of her wanted to punch him in the face for doing exactly what she'd told him not to do earlier that day.
Movement to her left caught her attention, and she jumped out of the way as an axe-wielding thug barged through friend and foe alike, on a mission to chop her into tiny pieces. He stopped in front of her and laughed to expose yellow teeth. Before he could make any move at her, a hole appeared in the top of his head, and he crumpled.
Jacqueline looked up. In the crow's nest, Thomas waved at her with his smoking bayonet. "Merci, Thomas!" She called up.
The British ship was on fire. It smoked and clouded the clear night sky. That was Connor's doing, she supposed. Even as the thought went through her mind, he jumped back across the ships and landed in front of her. "Well, that was quick—"
Her statement was cut off as the ship exploded, with such a forced as to rock the Aquila in the water and send everyone on board toppling over from the shockwave. Flaming planks of wood rained down on them with thunks and clattering. Tinnitus ringing in her ears, Jacqueline looked up to see nothing remaining of the frigate that had latched onto them.
"Huh." She said. "Learned from the best, I see." The prompting nudge she gave his side garnered no reaction from him but for a glance and frown her way. "What's wrong?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. It's not the time. We have taken damage that needs to be addressed first." And he walked off, just like that.
Feeling rather disappointed, she sighed. "We'll be back to shore in no time, anyway. Yo ho ho."
-o-
-The whole rum thing was a tip of the hat to Pirates of the Caribbean, yes it's true.
-I'm such a tease, oh you know I love you wee muffins. :3
-Don't forget to drop a sexy, sexy review!