A/N: Firstly, I would like to apologise for the lateness of this chapter... secondly, I would like to blame the fact that for some stupid reason fan would not finishing loading my edited documents in doc manager... and then when I tried to upload it separately as a word doc, it would just keep reloading... *sighs and face palms*
That aside, I'd like to thank the people who read this story and look forward to it's updates :) And I'd also like to thank the people who review Down the Rabbit Hole, even if the message is simple 'please update soon.' You have no idea how happy it makes me, because it tells me that people are really looking forward to reading the next chapter and seeing how the story progresses. That being said, I'm sorry that it takes a while for me to upload the stories to the point where some of you seem to be almost begging in the review for more _ sorry for that...
So, please enjoy the next chapter :) and feel free to review ;)
… Are you listening?
… Can you hear me?
When I'm crying out for you
... you say you love me
... I love you more
... you say you need me
Know I need you more
- Miley Cyrus, 'Adore You' -
Chapter 23
My lungs burned, my legs ached and yet I managed to maintain my stride, stumbling after Edward, Thatch and Hornigold; Edward leading me by the hand. Although he had earlier released my hand from his grip, I'd latched back on, partially out of desperation - I knew that I could keep up with their lengthy strides if I held on - and partially because it was just a natural thing to do.
Because despite the wall that had somehow been built between us after Kingston, despite the awkwardness and the confusion and just everything, I still… still…
I still love him, I thought to myself, chewing at the inside of my cheek.
"In the absence of any clear ideas, I say we lay low," Hornigold says, startling me out of my thoughts. I tear my eyes away from Edward and focus on Hornigold, noting the furrowed brow and his hurried step - it only served to further remind me that something was seriously wrong and that Nassau was at risk. It was a terrifying prospect; especially now that Nassau had become my second home. After all, years had passed since that fateful day on that pristine beach and luscious jungle; and although part of me still hoped to return to my ICT influenced, modern world, I could no longer deny that a number of reasons had convinced me that it would be better to remain in 1718.
And one of those reasons looked over his shoulder at me and squeezed my hand, pulling me out of the path of a drunken man stumbling down the street.
"Careful," Edward murmurs.
My heart flutters.
"I'm fine," I say in a sharper tone of voice then I meant to, mentally kicking myself when Edward's mouth turns down at the corners, settling into a thin line.
"No piracies," Hornigold was saying, "and no violence. Do nothing to ruffle the king's feathers for now."
"Preserving the king's plumage is no concern of mine, Ben," Thatch argues.
"It will be when he sees his soldiers to scrub this land clean of our residue!" Hornigold snaps, glaring at the rather formidable Blackbeard, "look around!"
Our group comes to a brief pause, our eyes coming the dust-covered streets and the peeling walls of the small, wooden buildings lining the street. There was an almost grey hue to the colony, an atmosphere of poverty and illness and defeat that had invaded the once lively air. People lay at the side of the road, passed out drunk or crippled by sickness, nursing a steadily emptying bottle of rum or clutching at their aching bodies. Smouldering fires dyed in the streets and the stillness of the air seemed to be almost oppressive.
It was hard to ignore the massive rats that scuttled in and out of my view, no matter how much I wished I could.
"It will be when he sees his soldiers to scrub this land clean of our residue!" Hornigold snaps, glaring at the rather formidable Blackbeard, "look around!"
Our group comes to a brief pause, our eyes coming the dust-covered streets and the peeling walls of the small, wooden buildings lining the street. There was an almost grey hue to the colony, an atmosphere of poverty and illness and defeat that had invaded the once lively air. People lay at the side of the road, passed out drunk or crippled by sickness, nursing a steadily emptying bottle of rum or clutching at their aching bodies. Smouldering fires dyed in the streets and the stillness of the air seemed to be almost oppressive.
It was hard to ignore the massive rats that scuttled in and out of my view, no matter how much I wished I could.
A town that was once filled with laughter and debuarchy and an almost hopeful atmosphere seemed to have disappeared before our eyes - the town still stood and there was still laughter (albeit drunken, but was it any different before) and reckless disregard for all things ordered and ruled but it wasn't the Nassau I had come to know and, in some way, love.
It certainly wasn't the idyllic pirate colony Edward had once regaled Adéwalé and I with all those years ago.
"Is this cesspool worth dying for?" Hornigold persists, an edge of sadness to his brisk tone as he turns to the three of us.
"Aye!" Thatch argues, brushing past Hornigold with a glare that could freeze hell over, prompting us to follow past the long-deserted gallows, "it's our Republic! Our idea! A free land for free men, remember? So maybe it's filthy to look at, but ain't it still an idea worth fighting for?"
Thatch, I think to myself, wincing in sympathy at the somewhat desperate look upon Thatch's face. It was clear that Nassau and the concept, the idea, the living proof of their once proud Pirate Republic meant a great deal to him - he probably wasn't the only one. Both Hornigold and Edward had called this place home for several years and I myself had adapted well to the usually vibrant, loud and frivolous town. For many, this was a place where you could be anything you wanted to be - freedom from rules and from order and from authority; a chance to live in sin; a chance to live on the wild side; a breath of fresh air in a world dictated by the laws of the monarchy. For many, this was their home - where would they go, if the British returned to take control? What would they do if the Pirate Republic disappeared?
Certainly a part of their identity would be lost, certainly their homes, their livelihoods. Many were using piracy as a means for survival; take that away and what were they left with? Nothing.
Hornigold however, remains unconvinced.
With a sigh, he observes the wasted surroundings with a look of longing and disappointment. It was obvious that although Hornigold still clung to a small thread of hope that Nassau could be saved, he had lost a majority of his faith and who could blame him, strolling around the town and witnessing the rampant disease, disorder and decay?
"I can't be sure," he says, "for when I look on the fruits of our years of labour, all I see is sickness... idleness... idiocy."
"Well, not a sunbeam of difference between here and London then, eh?" Thatch jokes but it falls flat, just like his tone of voice.
"Thatch is right, man," Edward interjects, "taking a wide view, we're not doing so bad out here. There's sun, rum and leisure as far as the eye can see..."
"Not to mention pretty lasses, eh?" Thatch chuckles, eyeing Edward and I side-by-side, to which the pair of us immediately blush.
"Bugger off, Thatch," I mutter, withdrawing my hand from Edwards as my pulse quickens.
"Aye, Nassua may look fine from a distance," Hornigold interjects, ignoring the friendly banter, "but at its core there's a disease I cannot stomach."
"It's rotten," I agree.
All three of the pirates turn to look at me in surprise - I was sure that if not for my occasionally input and the light banter that frequently occurred between Edward, Thatch and I, they would forget I was even there; certainly Hornigold would. We never really formed a close friendship and despite all the years I'd been living in Nassau and exploring the Caribbean with Edward, we'd never really moved past mutual acquaintances. More than likely, the trio were probably surprised I was agreeing with Hornigold rather than Edward and Thatch, however as I had come to love Nassau and see it as my second home, I too was becoming more and more aware of the floundering conditions.
Unlike Hornigold, I hadn't given up but that didn't mean I didn't share his concerns.
"Just this week, I've had five of the Old Avery's regular patrons die," I inform the trio, frowning slightly as I recall the gossip that had been circulating the tavern, "two of them passed away on the sea, but three died here in Nassau from contracting a disease. The doctors we have are ill-equipped, if we have any doctors at all; most are just healers using whatever home remedies they can and the medicines we can provide are outdated and ineffective and even those are dwindling in supply."
"Sickness can be cured, Tess," Edward assures me, brushing his fingers against my cheek as he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear; a familiar action which immediately soothes me. "All we need is the right medicine, and lots of it."
"But a corpse cannot be reanimated," Hornigold argues, clearly becoming frustrated with the course the conversation was taking.
He wasn't the only one.
"I can't believe the shite I'm hearing drop from your lips!" Thatch growls, poking his friend hard in the chest, "why not take the pardon now and be done with it!"
"Let's just stay calm-" I begin, wedging myself between the two.
"Peace! Both of you!" Edward yells over me, pulling them apart much more efficiently than I could - considering he had a lot more upper body strength then I did - before carefully pulling me aside, so if the two came to blows I would not be in the epicenter, "we can satisfy both aims if we work together."
"I think that's a sound plan, don't the two of you?" I ask, slightly intimidated when the older gentleman turn to me with frowns on both of their faces.
"Not trying to be offensive here, Lass, but I don't think you quite understand the situation," Thatch says, patting my head in such a way that can only be completely demeaning.
"Why'd you even bring her along, Kenway?" Hornigold asks rather exasperatedly, "she could barely keep up before."
"I think she's made some solid input in this discussion," Edward argues, throwing an arm over my shoulders and pulling me into his chest, clearly trying to protect me from their insults even though I wasn't at all offended.
They did have a point. I honestly hadn't been living in this environment long enough to understand the underlying complexities. Still... it was my home now and I believed I had a right to say what I thought in concern to its welfare. It made my chest warm and my cheeks flush at the thought that Edward agreed.
"Besides," he continues with a roguish smile, "I try to get rid of her but she's like a lost puppy… it's like trying to avoid the day - the sun will always rise tomorrow."
"Excuse you!" I cry out rather indignantly, slapping at Edward's chest to which he simply smiled down at me in amusement.
"That was soon painful," he teases, batting away my hands as Thatch laughs, watching the two of us struggle.
"Look... what do you suppose we do?" Hornigold sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he struggles to retain what little patience he has left.
"Find medicines to ease our burden's here," Edwards states, "but in a way that don't attract the British."
Contemplative, the men resume their stroll through Nassau, heading towards the bay where their ships were safely docked along with the massive Galleon we had once stolen from the Templar de Casse - something that felt like a distant memory now. Edward steps away from me, tearing me from my thoughts as he pushes back my much smaller and lighter body away from his. His eyes momentarily lock on mine and silently he offers me his hand, which I graciously accept, allowing him to tug me along as I struggle to match Thatch and Hornigolds' pace once more.
"I'd wager the nearest doctor - the nearest real doctor - is sitting pretty in Havana," Thatch brings up a few moments later, "not a place I mean to go."
"The Spanish Fleet that sunk two years back would have some medicine," Edward suggests, "all sealed up in glass vials."
"Would the medicine still be useful, being under the sea for such a time?" I ask.
Edward shrugs, "can't say for sure but we can try."
"You'd need a diving bell to reach those depths," Thatch points out.
"Aye," Edward readily agrees with a smile, "with some coin and a few supplies, a diving bell won't be hard to come by."
Satisfied, the three of us - Edward, Thatch and myself - turn to Hornigold with identical looks of expectation.
"This is a plan I can stand behind," Hornigold agrees after a pregnant pause, which immediately puts a smile on my face and a slightly more subdued smile on Edwards; even Thatch's mouth curls up slightly at the corners upon hearing agreement from the most stubborn man in the whole of Nassau. "Find the medicines without stirring up trouble... agreed Thatch?"
"Agreed," the older man answers. Looking over his shoulder, he flashes Edward a impish grin filled with delight at the prospect of adventure, "I'll meet you near the wrecks as soon as you're able, Kenway... I suppose I'll be seeing you too, Lassie?"
"Of course," I smile back sweetly, "wouldn't miss this... besides someone needs to keep the two of you in line."
"Ha! Now that's a sight I'd pay to see," Hornigold jokes, raising a hand in farewell as he disappears to attend to his own duties. "Remember Thatch," he calls out over his shoulder, "keep your cannon's corked!"
"Piss off, Ben!" Thatch yells back but there's a slight skip in his step, hinting that he wasn't quite as annoyed as he pretended to be and that he was keen to get started. With a slight wave of his hand and a tip of his hat in farewell, Thatch briskly strolls away, heading towards his moored ship, safely anchored in Nassau's harbour.
"You think he'll keep his word?" I ask Edward, watching our friend go.
"Thatch'll keep his word for as long as he can," Edward tells me, turning his head to me with a carefree smile, "just as long as he ain't provoked into starting something."
"That's like saying a fire won't burn if you add fuel and a flame," I chuckle, my joke causing Edward's smile to widen and a chuckle of his own to slip past his lips. And for a moment, it feels just like old times - before Kingston, before that night in the hotel... before everything got so fucking confusing. A sense of calm seemed to fall upon me at that moment and for the first time in a while, I felt that the smile gracing my lips was real and not forced in any way.
I missed this, I truly did.
But I only had myself to blame. Of course, Edward had played his part too but...
As the laughter dies, Edward catches my gaze once more and I just can't seem to tear my eyes away. Those grey-blue eyes watching me with such a familiar intensity that my heart flutters with desire and nervous sweat trails down the back of my neck, sticking the strands of my ponytail against my skin - although arguably, the warmth of the sun could also be the cause. As he drifted closer I couldn't help my eyes fluttering to a close and when I felt his arms snake around my waist, pulling my body flush against his, I could not help but sigh when his lips finally pressed against mine, his tongue coaxing my mouth open. Simultaneously, we seemed to moan and lean into the kiss, desperately seeking each other. My arms snake around his neck, my fingers curling into the strands of his blonde hair, tugging him closer and closer and until it was practically impossible for him to be any nearer to me and yet I pull him closer still.
What had I been thinking, back at the tavern? No matter how much awkwardness had come between us, no matter how much we fought, I wanted this. I wanted Edward. I needed him… and I could only hope that he felt the same. Enough so, that we could put aside our differences and move forward.
"Tess..." Edward sighs into my mouth, his hands squeezing my waist before gently pushing me away.
"Edward?" my voice comes out croakier than usual, breathless but the confusion is evident.
And before I know it, the wall has come back up and Edward turns away, the smile gone from his handsome face and his losing their breathless intensity and spark. A kind of cold seeps into our conversation, reminiscent of the detachment that had been present in our original relationship, in those first few confusing months when everything was up in the air and I didn't honestly know who to trust, what I was doing, where I was... back when I didn't believe that I could be here in the 18th century.
"You should let Tom know I'll be stealing you away again," he tells me, refusing to look at me.
"Oh," I say, momentarily stunned by the sudden shift from passion to coldness but with a quick shake of my head, I manage a small smile and an agreeable nod, "yeah, sure... I can do that."
"Good," Edward says, already heading off in search for the diving bell we required for the deep sea excavation of the Spanish treasure fleet.
"But umm... if you need help, Tom can-" I start to say but Edward immediately cuts me off.
"No... no, don't bother. I don't need your help, I can do it myself," he pauses, running a hand through his blonde locks - something I knew he only did when he was particularly frustrated, "just go back to your job, Tessa. I'll come find you later."
"Are you-" but before I can even finish, Edward's already heading towards a busier part of town where the markets would be, fleeing the scene. For a moment, I stand there, alone and unsure what to do. Finally, I come to my senses and set off for the Old Avery, all the while trying to swallow the lingering bitterness on my tongue as I come to realise that he hadn't called me by my nickname - something I hadn't been able to stop him from doing since day one.
It hurts,I think, clutching at my chest and blinking back those accursed tears that seemed to fall so easily these days, why does it hurt so much?
0-0-0-0-0-0
"What will we do with a drunken sailor,
What will we do with a drunken sailor,
What will we do with a drunk sailor,
Early in the morning?
Weigh-hay and up she rises
weigh-hay and up she rises
weigh-hay and up she rises"
"Early in the morning..." I sing along with the crew of the Jackdaw, the familiar melody and are rather harmonious voices drifting on the wind as the Jackdaw sails through the Caribbean. It had been a long time since I had last dared to sing; Shaun had once told me that it was perhaps the only thing elegant about me but I had always been too say to sing in front of others. But, the sky is a perfect blue with not a cloud in sight and the sun is shining brightly, the strong rays catching on the spray of the sea, sparkling as it drifts along the salty breeze and it seems right to sing along.
It's calming, settling the nerves that are fluttering about in the pit of my stomach.
The crew scrambles about, performing their various duties as Adéwalé calls out commands from the deck, his dark eyes carefully observing the movements of the crew and Edward watches the horizon from his place at the helm; regal and in control, every bit the ambitious, calm and collected Captain the crew worshipped and I admired, from a distance of course.
You've been avoiding me.
Edwards words floated through my mind as I leaned against the Jackdaw, feeling the wind whip through my hair and the sea fall against my face in tiny, iridescent droplets tossed into the breeze by the fast-paced ship as it cut through the endless ocean. I couldn't deny that it was true - I had been avoiding him for quite some time, throwing myself into work immediately after returning from Kingston and although Edward had also avoided unnecessary contact with me, I couldn't help but feel that the awkward tension between was more my fault than his. As I closed my eyes, content to listen to the sailors various renditions of the sea shanties Edward and I had procured during some of our adventures, I ran through our conversation back at the Old Avery, cringing as I recalled my various accusations and my perhaps over the top attitude; I honestly had sounded like a jilted girlfriend, and Edward and I certainly weren't in that type of relationship...
Even if a part of me, for a moment there, desperately wished it to be true
Who am I kidding? I think, massaging my temple, I do wish it were true. I wish we were anything but what we are now...
Still, the fact remained: how could I be so hypocritical?
My brother would often tell me that I had a temper that would just loosen my tongue and allow my emotions to run high and free - maybe that was the reason for my outburst. Although back then, I used to tell him that he was wrong and of course, our usual bickering would begin and our parents - later Desmond or Rebecca, even William but only when our fights would get so loud and so pointless that no one could really concentrate - would have to settle the two of us. Some part of me longed to hear him say that, the other cringed at the thought of his know-it-all 'I told you so' moment.
The fact was that the reason I could be so cold and perhaps even cruel to Edward was because I just didn't know how to act around him anymore - not after Kingston.
Not after everything he obviously so wanted to forget.
The thought made anger boil in the pit of my stomach - along with regret and loneliness and longing...
"Why can't I just make up my goddamn mind?" I whisper to myself, leaning over the rail and watching the waves toss and turn, lashing against the hull of the brig. With a sigh, I touch my lips and recall our earlier kiss on the Nassau beach; the passion behind it, the desire in Edward's eyes mirroring my own, the way he pulled me flush against his body and opened my mouth to tongue. There had to be some part of him that still wanted me like he had in Kingston - just as there a huge part of me that still wanted him. And despite everything... despite everything that had to mean something right? Feelings like the ones we had to share didn't just disappear overnight.
Trust me, I would know.
"Now we are ready to sail for the horn,
Weigh hey, roll and go!
Our boots and our clothes, boys, are all in the pawn,
To be rollicking randy dandy-O!"
Heave a pawl, O heave away!
Weigh hey, roll and go!
The anchor's on board and the cable's all stored,
To be rollicking randy dandy-O!"
"Not going to join in?"
Pushing myself away from the side of the ship, I turn with a wry smile to face Adéwalé grinning facade, the smile slipping as I take in his dark eyes; kind yet filled with a kind of apprehension that I hadn't seen since that first day as a crew in 1715. There was concern there too but the stiffness in his posture and the unease in his face suggested that there were other things playing on his mind concerning me. Although, I force my lips back into a smile and throw my arms behind my head, observing the chanting crew with a fond look.
"They don't need me; they sound fine on their own."
"Perhaps a little song will drag you out of those dark thoughts," the quartermaster notes, folding his arms over his chest, the muscles rippling underneath his dark skin. With my back pressed against the side of the ship and the tense stature of Adéwalé's body, I feel my own body tighten and my heart to quicken in pace as the feeling of being cornered sets in.
"Aren't I always lost in my thoughts, Adé?" I tease with an easy-going smile, circling around the observant quartermaster with a swift side-step so it is his back against the wall, not mine. The feeling of being a caught and caged like a wild animal gradually begins to fade but as his eyes continue to follow me, I can't shake the nervousness that stiffens my body.
"That is true," the man answers in his usual grave tone of voice, his eyes serious, "but normally it is with a smile."
The smile on my lips falls once again and I drop my arms to my sides, chewing at the inside of my cheek, the voices of the Jackdaw's crew floating on the wind to my ears:
"Come breast the bars, bullies, heave her away,
Weigh hey, roll and go!
Soon we'll be rolling her down through the Bay,
To be rollicking randy dandy-O!
Heave a pawl, O heave away!
Weigh hey, roll and go!"
"The anchor's on board and the cable's all stored," I sing softly with the rest of the crew, my voice lost among their hearty shouts and cheerful demeanor. My gaze watches the never-ending blue horizon as the song comes to an end with a final: "to be rollicking randy Dandy-O…"
Silence falls between Adéwalé and myself, the two of us taking a moment to ourselves to collect our thoughts and work out how to approach the conversation we both knew was coming.
"A penny for your thoughts," I eventually enquire, leaning once again on the ships side, catching the sea spray - though the very attempt was fruitless - enjoying the breeze that chills my cheeks and the tip of my nose.
"What happened between you and Edward?" Adéwalé asks softly, careful not to catch his Captain's attention - it seemed like Edward always knew when he was being discussed and it was clear, from the low tone of Adéwalé's voice that he was reluctant to be heard.
"I don't-" I begin, a little startled by the question but if I was being honest with myself, some part of me had expected it; Adé was exceptional perceptive and was probably the only other person on this ship who spent as much time with Edward as I did, maybe even more considering the number of expeditions they embarked on without me.
"Tessa, you and I both know something's wrong with the captain," Adé states. "You and I both know that this strangeness only began after Kingston and considering how the two of you will barely speak two words to each other, and that you've been avoiding the Jackdaw for the past few months, I can only assume that something has between the two of you. Care to explain why the pair of you are acting completely different than usual?"
"Something did happen," I admit, carefully choosing my words, "but Adé... it's something that can't just be solved by allowing you to be privy to our thoughts. It's between Edward and myself-"
"Then why not talk it out between yourselves?" the quartermaster suggests, once more cutting me off.
"Because Adé, it's not that easy," I explain patiently, the words leaving a bitter taste on the tip of my tongue. It certainly wasn't going to be as easy as Edward and I sitting down over a cup of tea or a mug of rum, discussing our issues; not when it was difficult to look each other in the eye… not when our relationship was so strained that we found it honestly difficult to look at the other, let alone start a conversation.
A pause.
"The two of you... I don't know," Adé murmurs, shaking his head with a small amused smirk curling his lips, "there's just something about the two of you that seems right."
Laughing at my shocked expression, he throws an arm around my shoulder and gives me a one-armed squeeze, before lifting his hand and rubbing the top of my head - hard.
"Ow," I complain but with a small giggle, pushing away his hand and smoothing the top of my hair. Quietly, I appraise the dark-skinned man before me - a man I had to come to see as my friend over the years, a man I could trust to keep everything running smoothly, a man I trusted; although he did make me a little nervous at times, with his large presence and knowing, dark eyes. Despite that, I trusted him and looked up to him and knew that although he had the Jackdaw's best interests at heart first and foremost, he also looked out for me and for Edward and I knew he wanted us to set things right.
And I knew that we had to.
The question was how... but that wasn't something Adé needed to concern himself with.
"You alright there, fair Lady?" he asks and I shake my head, realizing I had been lost in thought for too long.
"It's nothing," I murmur, "I just never pegged you for a romantic.
"All I know," he says with a chuckle, patting my shoulder again as he pushes away from the railing, "is that the Captain is a better man with you around... you'll manage to find some way to rectify this situation, I'd put all my money on that bet."
"I wouldn't do so just yet."
Another hearty laugh but there's something else to it - nerves? But really, what did he have to be nervous about? It wasn't as if I made him nervous; yeah I had good aim, much better since I had been practicing little by little when I had the spare time, determined to rely on my own abilities and be my own savior, rather than constantly rely on Edward and be his constant damsel in distress - yuck - but I doubted that I could take Adé by surprise. Ruefully scratching at the back of his head, Adéwalé takes a quick step away from me, muttering furiously under his breath. "Listen Tessa, I gotta get back on the job," he murmurs, offering an apologetic smile, "wouldn't want the men to slack off."
"I understand," I answer, raising my hand in farewell.
"You should think about what I said."
"Trust me," I assure with a laugh, running a hand through my long curls, somewhat ashamed as I think back on the past few months before my slender fingers come to rest on the locket glittering under the pleasant sun, "I will be... thank you."
"No need to thank me," he answers, patting the crown of my head once more before hastening away, yelling orders out to the crew. Bemused by his quick getaway and agitated demeanor, I can't help the small giggle that falls from my lips as the crew starts up yet another pleasant shanty, their voices once more floating along the wind in almost perfect harmony - who knew pirates could be good singers?
"Come all you young sailor men, listen to me,
I'll sing you a song of the fish in the sea;
And it's...
Windy weather boys, stormy weather, boys,
When the wind blows, we're all together, boys;
Blow ye winds westerly, blow ye winds, blow,
"Jolly sou'wester, boys, steady she goes," I sing along, looking towards the helm where Edward stood, navigating his beloved ship with what was almost a carefree smile and a determined look to his handsome face that I hadn't seen in a long while. I knew that I had to solve this problem with Edward and to do so, I would have to tackle the issue head on - a difficult action for me to take, considering the fact that I rather liked to avoid conflict and messy conversations but I couldn't hold out forever.
I wouldn't be able to stand it.
For a brief moment, I catch Edward's eye as the handsome man casually spares me a glance from his place at the head of the ship. He offers me a small smile and I find myself returning it, only to have him shake his head and turn away, setting his mouth in a hard line, his gaze once more on the horizon.
I can wait, I think to myself, closing my eyes against the sun and the landscape of the Caribbean which, after three years, still managed to take my breath away.
Just a little bit longer…
0-0-0-0-0-0
So… she could sing.
The observation was meaningless, insignificant… to anyone but Edward.
He could hardly be surprised, considering the number of secrets he had yet to divulge to Tess himself that she too would have a few of her own. Yes, he knew of her Assassin past and yes, he knew somewhat about her family but there was so much more that still remained a pleasant mystery to Edward when concerning Tessa. And when he had yet to tell her of his most precious, darkest secrets and when they were barely on speaking terms, he couldn't her to share any of her own. Nor could expect not to be occasionally surprised by the still mysterious woman he had happened to fall head-over-heels in love with.
He could not help but watch from his place at the helm, studying the way the wispy strands of her red-gold hair fluttered with the wind, the way the sea-spray sparkled on her ivory skin like diamonds when catching the suns light just the right way or the way her rosy lips curled into a pleasant smile as she sang along with the rest of the Jackdaw's crew. She leaned her supple, curvy body against the worn wood of the deck, her slender fingers playing with the locket he had given her in Kingston as a birthday gift and a memento of their time together, to replace the pearl she had lost – she played with the locket almost constantly since receiving it; it was as if to Edward's observant gaze, that the locket gave her courage and comfort when she could not find it elsewhere and something about that warmed his heart and convinced him that somehow…
He watches as Adéwalé comes up behind her, ruffling her soft locks with his large hands and offering her a pleasant smile and an obviously cheerful, pleasant conversation – something Edward deduces from the way she beamed up at the quartermaster and laughed. As she did, Edward felt his heart sink and his stomach twist, jealously rearing its ugly head. It seemed almost ridiculous that he'd be jealous of what was more than likely a friendly conversation between two friends. It was even more ridiculous that the conversation just out of an ear-shot was causing him so much distraction, particularly when Edward required every ounce of concentration in trying to avoid unnecessary skirmishes with the dozen navy vessels from Spain and England patrolling the Caribbean seas - heeding caution, as Hornigold had emphasized, was certainly proving to be an unexpected challenge.
They had been friends for several years now; life on the seas and dependency on your crew, mean that working together is a top priority. For both Tessa and himself, Adéwalé had become a reliable source, trustworthy... it was to be expected that friendship would form out of it, particularly since the three of them had met under the most unusual of circumstances - nothing brings you closer together than a near-death experience and a couple of rusting irons. And it was because they were friends, that Edward trusted Adé with a variety of affairs; whether it be the maintenance of the Jackdaw, the welfare of the crew or even taking the time to share a pint, Adé was an easy man to depend upon. He was quiet, focused and incredibly observant, teasing Edward of his feelings for Tess long before he had even admitted it to himself; and that was why Edward found his jealously over their minute conversation so ridiculous. In the all the years that the three of them had known each other, not once – not once – had Adé expressed interest in Tessa the same way he himself had. If anything, the man treated Tessa like a younger sister or an extremely close friend. So then why did it irritate him so much to see the two of them, their bodies turned towards the other, laughing at a joke he could not hear?
I'm being ridiculous, Edward thought to himself, gripping the helm tighter than necessary but even as he told himself that, he could not help sparing another glance at the pair, his normally handsome face twisting into what could only be described as a cold, hard expression.
If looks could kill.
As the quartermaster wanders off, bidding the pretty red-haired a hasty farewell, his grey-blue eyes catch her emerald-blue ones – the eyes that remind him so much of the ocean – and he watches as she offers him a tiny, almost hopeful smile in reply to his own. For a moment, he considers calling her over or asking another to take the wheel, the desire to have her in his arms, her beautiful face pressed into his chest almost overwhelming however, Edward sets his mouth into a hard line and shakes his head clear of those thoughts; the reality was that things could not return to the way they once were… but it could be repaired… and improved.
The only question was how.