A/N: So... chapter 16 is finally here and I'm starting to think that another fan fiction could be in the works - I can handle two right? Anyways, enjoy this chapter! I did leave a potential plot at the end of the last, but things kinda changed as I wrote - although, I think the direction I took was a lot nicer :)
- AshTree13 xx
Chapter 16:
It was almost the new year.
Sun streamed out from in-between the soft, white clouds floating in the crystal blue sky, heralded along like sheep on a gentle sea-breeze. People - prostitutes, merchants, pirates; Nassau doesn't discriminate - strolled along the beachside and up to the small pirate village, some locked in conversation, others exchanging currency for a variety of wares up for sale at the endless merchant stalls.
At least, that's how I picture the scene.
Instead of bartering with men at the market stalls, collecting purchases and attempting to balance the always-too-heavy load equally in my arms, I am lying atop the lumpy mattress of my lodgings with the coarse cotton sheets sticking to my sweat-slicked skin, hacking up my lungs.
Up until an hour ago, I was wandering the Nassau streets seeking a remedy for the persistent tickle that had clung to me for almost a week. My unsteady legs, clad in knee-length leather boots, had trotted daintily along the uneven road whilst the world spun, the edges of my vision blurred and my head pounded with the beginnings of a strong migraine. The entire trip was an effort and in the end I didn't even make it half-way; the tree-roots and pebbles lining the dirt path made my already uneven strides perilous and despite the conscious knowledge of the pain that would result if I fell, I still managed to trip and nearly face plant the ground.
If I hadn't been passing the Old Avery Tavern at the time, I was sure I would've found it incredibly difficult to make it back to the relative safety of my room. Crawling wouldn't have been very effective - and it wasn't exactly safe to collapse in the middle of a street run by pirates who were known for breaking the rules and indulging in depravity.
"Thanks for taking me back," I croak after the coughing session burns the back of my throat, my eyes seeking out my saviour.
"Couldn't just leave you," Edward Thatch, otherwise known as Blackbeard, one of the most fearsome and notorious pirates roaming the waters of the Caribbean, says to me, moving to replace the warm rag that currently lies across my flushed, heated forehead. "What would Kenway say, if he learnt of your collapsing and my not helping you?" The dark-haired pirate continues, dipping his hands into the bucket of ice situated by my bedside, fishing out a fresh rag from its' depths, "I would lose the respect I command from him."
"I don't think you need to go this far," I weakly chuckle, sighing in relief when the refreshing cloth touches my skin.
"Well… I could use the poultice suggested by the doctor-"
"If you even think of putting that nasty stuff on my body, I will end you," I snarl only to launch into a fit of coughing as a result.
"Like you could," Thatch answers, amusement clear on his face.
"Just… just keep my temperature down," I mutter, shifting uncomfortably underneath the coarse sheets that stick to my skin, groaning as I shift onto my side and bury my face into my rock-hard pillow.
"Yes, you're majesty."
"And get rid of the sarcasm," I snap, moaning when my head begins to pound, reminding me of my currently prone state; a product/complication of my cold.
"Who would I be without sarcasm?" Thatch replies, struggling to contain the smile curling his lips, mirth twinkling in his black eyes.
"A gentleman? Polite? Not an asshole?" I suggest huskily, coughing delicately into my hand, my face twisting with disgust as I wipe the phlegm hacked out of my throat on the handkerchief Thatch had earlier lent me. "I hate being sick," I continue with a whine, rolling back onto my back, fighting the urge to rip off the sweat-soaked blankets, aware that it was the fever keeping my temperature running at a permeate high but that there was a possibility that my body would eventually be reduced to chills.
"Everyone hates being sick," Thatch points out.
"It's not exactly a nice feeling," I agree, "my head feels as if it's about to explode, my throat is killing me and this persistent tickle isn't making it any better…" as if to reaffirm this fact, that very same tickle begins to irritate the back of my oesophagus with a new-found determination that has me sitting upright, unable to contain the building coughs that shake my entire form.
Thatch leans over and pats my back, a slight look of anxiousness crossing his face as my coughing fit continues with no end in sight. "I should grab the doctor-" he starts, already rising to his feet as he does.
"No," I cut in, slightly out of breath, my words coming out as a distinguishable wheeze, "no… I don't… don't need the doctor."
"God, you're stubborn," Thatch groans, settling back into his chair, once again replacing the already warm towel with one that is as cold as the melting ice in the bucket by the bedside.
"It's my most endearing quality," I sarcastically reply.
"You sound like a duck," Thatch suddenly informs me after a brief pause in the conversation, laughing at the distinctly horrified expression that forms upon my face.
"I do not!" I screech - something I immediately regret the moment my throat burns from the sudden increase in volume. Using the remainder of my strength, I reach for the spare pillow atop my bed and hurl it as hard as I can at the chuckling pirate, vengeance in my eyes.
"Who knew that the kitty had claws."
"You're… you're insufferable!" Exhausted from my previous efforts, I collapse against the pillow and lumpy mattress that made my bed, ignoring the shakes that begin to tear through my body as I feel my temperature rapidly drop, gently massaging my throbbing temples.
"Couldn't have said it better myself, Tess," a voice, to which I was very well accustomed too, injects prior to Thatch's reply.
"Oi, you need to learn to respect your elders, Kenway," Thatch snorts, watching with his hawk-like eyes the blonde-haired man of the same name close the door, unhook his rapiers and pistols, placing them with surprising gentleness atop the dresser so the fine metal barely makes a sound upon contact with the wood.
Making his way toward my beside, Edward kicks out Thatch out from under his chair, smirking as the usually coordinated dark-haired man tumbles to the dusty floor, the chair falling on top of him. Seeing my wide-eyed stare, Edward chuckles lightly under his breath and proceeds to take my hand, settling himself at the edge of my bed, his azure-blue eyes raking over my body with concern evident in his gaze. "He's not hurt," he assures me, touching my forehead with his wonderfully cold hands - the sensation is so relieving that my eyes flutter close at his touch - a frown now appearing on his handsome face, "you have a fever... haven't you asked for a doctor yet, Thatch?"
"Do you think I'm blind Kenway?" Thatch grunts from the floor, slowly getting to his feet and dusting himself off, "of course I called for the goddamn doctor. She fainted in the middle of the fucking street, after all."
"Then why hasn't her fever broken? I know she's been bedridden for a few days now!"
"Ask her, she's the stubborn patient who won't take the doctors advice," Thatch says indignantly.
At that, both men turn to face me with noticeable frowns marring their expressions and glares clearly plastered across their face.
"It's just a cold," I mumble, embarrassed by the sudden care and attention I was receiving at the hands of these two usually threatening men.
Edward releases my hand and folds his arms over his chest, looking down at me in what was a somewhat comically exasperated expression, his head shaking from side-to-side, voicing his disapproval without having to actually be vocal. "Gods, I really can't leave you alone for a couple of weeks can I, Tess?" he says with an affectionate smile and soft laugh, unfurling his arms once more to push back my hair which is stuck to my sweat-slicked skin.
"Then don't leave," I suggest sarcastically, rolling my eyes as I do, but I really do mean it - I don't want to be without him again, particularly for an extended period of time. You see, without Edward, my days were surprisingly lonesome and monotonous - there was nothing that could be labelled as particularly 'fun' for a woman here in Nassau. Books weren't as available her as they were in my time, so even my favourite past-time was ruled out - I managed to get my hands on a couple of novels; my favourite so far being The New Atalantis, which had apparently been quite a scandalous read when first published; and another, A Tale of a Tub which was quite a lengthy read about religion - I knew the author, had read his later book Gulliver's Travels with Shaun as a small child and decided that if I couldn't get my hands on his most famous publication (that is, most famous in my personal opinion) then I would attempt to work my way through his prose work about Christianity. But I had finished both in a couple of days and time was ever increasingly slowing down, torturing me with Edward's absence and my own boredom.
Working at the Old Avery Tavern had been… well… in a word, interesting - there were a great many fascinating characters who roamed the old bar, swigging tall pitchers of rum, drunkly singing and dancing along to Bessie's - the performer at the tavern - musical talents, all the while preoccupied by the endless scores of 'loose' women and tales of their high-sea adventures.
It had been fun.
But it wasn't challenging enough to capture my attention and the days soon returned to my tedious, companionless routine filled with nothing but tiresome chores, an attempt to keep myself busy and active.
"I'm not going anywhere until you're better," Edward promises me, pecking my forehead - immediately, I am assaulted by his familiar scent of gunpowder, sea-salt and… well, Edward. The familiarity of it all causes my heart to flutter and my already flushed cheeks to burn, especially when I catch Thatch's amused expression over Edward's shoulder.
"I'll leave the rest to you, Kenway," Thatch decides, grabbing his black Captain's hat with it's luscious black feather, sitting it atop his head where it stands proud as a mark of his captainship, "look after yourself, Lass."
"Thanks, Thatch," I whisper, turning to my side and offering the man a small smile, "I really owe you one."
"Don't mention it, Lass," Thatch dismisses with a hearty laugh, coming round Edward's side and leaning over me in order to tousle my already chaotic hair, his hands surprisingly gently as he pats my cheek, "take care of yourself… be a shame if a pretty thing like you were to never recover from this."
"Thatch…" Edward warns, glaring up at his mentor.
"What? She is a pretty thing, I mean… she normally is, if her nose wasn't so red with the cold and if her hair had been brushed recently-"
"Thatch-"
"Please stop," I moan, throwing the sheets over my head in an attempt to block out the remainder of this conversation.
"With that pretty, heart-shaped face and those gorgeous green eyes, she's a real-"
"If you finish that sentence, I will shoot you with one of my pistols," Edward growls, "they're not very far, just a stride away and fully loaded."
"Okay, okay," Thatch laughs, raising his hands before him, the picture of surrender.
"Weren't you leaving?"
"Good point," Thatch winks, sweeping his hat off his head as he bends into a mock bow, "good day, my friends." With that, the formidable Edward Thatch, captain of the Queen Anne's Revenge disappears from the lodge and I am left to deal with a slightly agitated Edward Kenway on my own.
Wonderful.
"Is he gone?" I mumble, throwing the sheets back off my head, watching Edward with my heavy-lidded eyes, exhaustion beginning to take a hold me.
"Yeah," Edward sighs, picking up the cloth - which I had noticed was no longer plastered across my forehead - off the ground, dipping it into the ice-cold water that was once a bucket of ice, concentration illuminating his handsome face.
"So..." I croak, attempting a weak smile, "how was Kingston?"
"Fine… busy," Edward replies, sitting up right and pushing back my hair so the cloth can lie directly across my forehead, cooling my heated skin, the condensation trickling down the back of my neck. However, I can barely resister this as I'm distracted instead by the mirth twinkling in his grey-blue eyes, my fever-induced brain urging me to memorise each and every aspect of his face, committing it to my hazy memory. A feeling of peace and contentment settles over me as the man begins to fuss over me, tucking me into the white, gauzy sheets and I can't help but smile at his unnecessary concern over my well being.
What can I say? It feels nice... being taken care of.
"You need to rest," Edward informs me gently, again pressing his lips to my forehead before moving them to my lips. Not so much to my surprise, I automatically respond to Edward's sensual touch, allowing his tongue to slip into my mouth and twine with mine, indulging in the sensations of pleasure rippling throughout my body at the action. Just as I move my trembling arms so to curl my fingers in his blonde hair, Edward pulls away and gazes down at me with an eyebrow arched and an expression which could only be described as amusement. With a smile and a soft chuckle rumbling from the depths of his chest, he tells me, "that's not rest, Tess," before removing himself from the bed and heading towards the dresser.
"You started it," I complain, covering my mouth with my arm as I cough, that accursed tickle rearing it's ugly head once more, feeling the comforting warmth Edward's presence had given slipping away.
"And now I'm ending it."
"What are you doing?" I wonder aloud, curiosity drawing my attention to the small velvet bag in his hands and the strange, brown substance that comes out of it.
"I'm going to give this to a doctor and get him to make up a tonic for you."
"What is that?" I persist, struggling to sit upright so I can study the brown, shredded stuff which kind of resembles bark and the pale, green-white 'flowers' that are embedded in the mix, more than a little apprehensive of the strange herb? flower? let's just go with mystery.
"Dogwood."
"Dogwood?"
"It's a tropical tree… it's bark apparently is good for settling coughs and reducing fevers," Edward explains, returning what I now know is bark to the safety of its pouch, "brought it at Kidd's suggestion."
"Kidd's?! When the hell did you run into Kidd?"
"Tess? Are you okay? Do I need to get a doctor?," Edward asks in concern, taking a hesitant step towards me as my exclamation leads me into a coughing fit. Its' a strong one; one that shakes my entire body with earth-shattering coughs, burning my lungs and the back of my throat, tears prickling the corners of my eyes as the pain begins to overwhelm me.
"I'm fine," I croak.
"Tess…"
"I'm fine," I repeat, a little firmer, lying back on the cot, "please continue."
"… He was at the pier," Edward eventually resumes, his eyes never leaving mine despite the fact that his attention is divided between me and the process of reattaching his rapiers to his belt, and returning his two pistols to their holsters, "he was waiting for me to dock. Apparently, Thatch had asked him to keep an eye out for my return… he was worried, Tess. Wanted me to send him a message the moment you got better."
"I can't believe you've already forgiven him."
"Hard to stay mad at the guy who's paying me good money to carry out his mission," Edward points out, striding towards me with careful steps as if he were approaching a wild animal, "perhaps you should forgive-"
"No."
"Tess-"
"No!" I stubbornly insist, looking at my pirate with wide green-blue eyes hoping to convey my displeasure with the very idea, "he's got to apologise first."
"He said the same thing, you know? He said, and I quote, 'I will apologise when she apologises to me.'" Edward groans, flopping onto my bed with a deep, regretful sight, "God, you two act like five year olds… what did I do to deserve being dragged into this mess?"
"I could write you a list, if you'd like?" I offer sarcastically with a familiar roll of my eyes.
"Ha ha, very funny."
"I try," I sigh longingly, turning onto my side so I could see his face better, smiling when I find that his are already turned to mine, those azure eyes studying me with an intensity I had yet to fathom.
"I need to go," he tells me, preparing to launch himself off the bed again and out the door.
"No!"
"Tess?" his eyes widen and drift down to where my hands clutch desperately at his sleeve, keeping him from moving away, forcing him to remain here, by my side.
"Don't go…" I plead at a whisper, unable to look him in the eye - I hate appearing weak to him, but I couldn't fathom how I was to let him go again after not being with him for weeks. I was addicted to his scent, to his smile, to his laugh… I could not go without it any longer. "Please," I continue, my voice so soft I have little doubt in my mind that Edwards' ears are straining to pick up each and every word, "please don't go… stay until I fall asleep… please…"
"You'll go to sleep, right? No arguments?"
"Yes," I nod, finally lifting my eyes to meet his.
"Okay."
Enveloping my body in his strong arms, Edward draws me to his chest and begins to comb his fingers through my knotted hair, as he often does. HIs familiar actions are soothing and I already find myself giving up to the exhaustion that has haunted me for most of the day, my eyes slowly drifting to a close. Letting out a deep sigh, I curl my fingers into soft fists that rest against his chest, my face nuzzled into the crook of his chest breathing in his delightful scent.
Fitted against his body and listening to the soft tune of a lullaby which Edward hums, I fall into sleep as my body so craves, a smile pasted across my face.
0-0-0-0-0-0
The Old Avery Tavern was particularly rowdy this cool new year.
It seemed, to Edward, that pirates all across the Caribbean had swarmed to Nassau's safe harbours for the beginning of the new year, indulging in the finest pleasures Nassau could offer - endless flagons of rum and very willing, incredibly entertaining women of all shapes and sizes.
If there was a time to sate your pleasures, this would be it.
If there was a time to drown your sorrows, now was the time.
Fiddling with the rim of his pitcher of rum, Edward grapes the cup firmly and swallows the final gulp of the brown-orange liquid, the alcohol burning a somewhat pleasant path down his throat, a fierce desire to forget what had occurred moments ago driving him to ask the familiar barman for yet another refill.
Yet, no matter how much he seemed to drink - and he was on about his fourth round - he couldn't forget those damning words that had wormed their way out of Tessa's rosy lips.
And he couldn't stop wondering if she meant what she had said.
In her defence, Tess had been pretty much unconscious, lost in dreams that Edward hoped were as innocent and as pure as she; after all, if she were to have nightmares, he would blame himself… who wouldn't, if they were as sweet and delicate as her? He had come to understand that perhaps Tessa did not belong in his world, but he was too addicted to her to set her free - selfish, he knew he was, yet that didn't change anything (at least, not to him.)
Despite her raging fever, which was starting to settle - to his relief - she had slept on peacefully, her head tucked against the crook of his neck, resting her cheek against his shoulder, her hands curled into gentle fists against his chest. Her rosy lips were barely open, just wide enough for her to take a deep breath in and another out, her breaths surprising evenly despite the racing of her heart and the condensation glistening atop her skin. It was in this state of complete relaxation and innocence that she uttered the words that hurt more than he knew possible.
Desmond… I love you…
He couldn't get those five syllables out of his goddamn head - they whispered menacingly into his ear, only momentarily dulled by the strong alcohol beginning to overthrow his senses.
He needed another drink. He needed another three… or maybe five.
"So… this is the new Libertalia, eh?"
Edward wasn't particularly sure what it was about these two men that made him look up from his cup; perhaps it was the fact that it was a distraction from his somewhat depressing thoughts, maybe it was the strong sense of distaste reverberating in his voice that made him stop and stare… maybe it was the alcohol urging him into a fight. Either way, he was interested in what these men, these pirates, he to say about his… his home.
"Stinks the same as every other squat I've robbed this past year," the stranger - although, he was somewhat familiar - continues, hand braced on his hips, steps heavy as if weighed at the heel of his supple-leather boots. His lined face creases further in disgust as he survey's the scene of the Old Avery Tavern, nose crinkled in distaste as he watched the other men whore and drink themselves into a stupor.
Stuck up Git, Edward thoughts, fiddling with the rim of his drink, a tiny smile flittering across his face as he comes to recognise the odd man.
At that moment, the first mans companion catches Edward's eye and the smile curling his lips. Coming to halt just a metre or two away from his tail, his grey eyes narrow in distrust. Obviously deciding that a cocky approach was best, the man tilts his head slightly to the left and says, "why the long face? You falling in love?"
You have no idea how right you are, Edward thought, surprised by the pain that erupted in his chest at those words.
"With your blouse," Edward replies, with a shrug of his shoulder and a salute with his rum. Getting to his feet, the distinct screech of his chair halting the man who had addressed him mid-stride, Edward puts on a carefree smile and welcoming air.
"You're welcome to Nassau, Gents… everyone is that does their fair share."
"Fair share?" The darker one inquires, his eyes disbelieving, "what is this? A fucking monastery?"
"We," the other states, "were led to believe Nassau was a place where Men did as they pleased… ain't that our Creed?"
"Save keeping other from doing the same, aye."
All three turned to face Edward Thatch, obviously the most dominating figure to walk Nassau's shores and sail the Caribbean seas, a man who deserved complete respect, as he strode into then Old Avery, a petite figure at his side.
"What are you doing out of bed?" Edward found himself asking, his grey eyes studying Tessa North's still flushed, heart-shaped face with concern, his heart tightening as he gazed upon the beautiful woman.
She had finally tackled the mess that had been her hair; the red-gold locks now hung down her back in a neat ponytail, the curls falling to her waist in a sleek curtain of fire, held in place by a navy ribbon. She had thrown on a fresh blouse, a leather corset forcing her already slender waist to be thiner and somehow pleasing to the eye, fresh leather pants emphasising her slender legs which seemed to go on for days and she had pulled on her favourite pair of leather boots, the silver buckles glinting under the dull lightening.
She was incredibly attractive and heartbreaking to see.
"I was feeling better," she explains with a small, rosy-lipped smile, her green-blue eyes drinking him in, "and I ran into Thatch, who suggested you may be at the pub… so I took some of the medicine you left and headed over."
"You took the medicine?"
"It was incredibly disgusting," she confirms with a delicate shudder, "one would think you chose this particular plant just to torment me with the taste."
"Yes… well…" he wasn't sure how to answer, he couldn't even look her directly in the eye, her earlier confession tormenting him once again.
"Is something wrong?"
"No," he answers, a little too quickly for her liking.
"Edward…"
"Captain Thatch," the red coated pirate interrupts, "as I live and breath… didn't think such a fine woman would be at your side…"
"She ain't mine," Thatch says, offering the girl a lofty grin, "she's Kenway's, she'll deny that she is though."
"I'm not anyone's, Thatch," Tessa huffs, folding her willowy arms over her chest, her eyes narrowed in a playful glare, "a woman isn't a piece of property."
Thatch waves his hand in careless dismissal.
"No woman… but a magnificent muzzle instead cultivated…"
"Why fly a black flag when a black beard will do?" Thatch asks, taking a swig out of his bottle of rum, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips, "what brings you two gents this far North?"
"Does every goddamn pirate in this colony know one another?" Tess demands, her head cocked to one side in curiosity. The action distinctly reminded Edward of a inquisitive cat, a thought that made him softly smile.
"Tess," Edward introduces, nodding at the pair, "the man with the scruff and red accented coat, looking all self-important and shit is Captain Charles Vane."
"Self-important?" Vane asks, mildly amused by Edward's choice of words.
"And I assume the other is his quartermaster," he continues, ignoring Vane entirely, "although, I do not-"
"Jack Rackham, love," the other pirate interrupts, reaching for Tess's petite, pale hand, drawing it to his lips and placing a gentle kiss on the smooth skin, "pleasure."
"Okay…" Tessa says, drawing her hand back, "nice to, uh, meet you."
"I won't ask again, boys," Thatch adds, his deep voice immediately drawing the small groups attention, "but what is it that you are looking for?"
"The word is the Cuban Governor himself is fixing to receive a mess of gold from a nearby fort," Vane explains, grabbing the bottle of rum Edward had left carelessly on his now vacant table, "until then, it's just sitting there," he smiles a greedy, devil-may-care grin, "itching to be took."
"Governor Torres?" Tess asks.
"You know him?"
"Something like that," the girl mutters under her breath, leaning against the roped railing of the Public house, her shoulder pressed against Edward's as she does.
"Sounds promising," Kenway murmurs, turning his head to press a kiss against Tess's head, aware that the mere thought of going up against Torres once again terrified the young woman, particularly when the memories of the prison ship still haunted her nightmares.
The action causes her to stiffen involuntary with surprise. He had to admit that it was a little unexpected but it was done with good intentions, and to demonstrate to the men - particularly Packham - that were eying her with interest that she was his. However, she almost imeadiately relaxes and curls her body against his, resting her head against his chest. "I'm glad that you're not angry," she whispers.
"I was never angry, Tess," he assures the girl, reaching an arm around her shoulder, playing with the ends of her hair, "I was just…"
"Just?"
"Never-mind."
"You thinking of going for gold?" Thatch asks Edward in a low tone, his eyes sharp. At Edward's barely noticeable nod, the two of them share a knowing smile.
"Welcome to Nassau, Captain Vane, Mister Rackham," Thatch then states, holding out a bottle of rum to the pair as Edward looks on, one arm around the shoulders of his girl, a frown marring his face as a full-proof, ambitious plan begins to take form.