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You didn’t realize the true extent of what you had done until much later.
You had expected Davenport’s anger, of course. You had taken literally everything but his name from him. But when he had been your captain, he was always the most forgiving one on the whole ship. You had thought—well, hoped, really—that he would look at you and smile like he used to and tell you it was all going to be okay.
After the Day of Story and Song, though, you barely have a chance to look at each other before Davenport is off to explore the world beyond the moon base and beyond the Bureau. You can’t blame him; he had been your prisoner for years.
You write to him. He never writes back.
When he comes to visit, you hear about it from Merle. You get the feeling that he wasn’t supposed to tell you.
You arrive at Merle’s place about a half hour after he told you to, hesitating out of anxiety and fear. Magnus and his dog Johann greet you warmly; Mookie and Mavis grin as you slip them some candy from your pocket; Taako and Lup ignore you, absorbed in each other; Barry and Kravitz awkwardly wave. Finally, you spot Merle, who salutes, and Davenport, staring at you with a difficult to read expression.
You walk up to him but he briskly walks off toward the pier just before you reach him. Merle gives you the tiniest shove to the small of your back, urging you without words to go and speak to him. Blinking back tears, you square your shoulders and join Davenport on the pier, staring out to the ocean.
There is a moment of silence. Then:
“I think today is my birthday.”
His voice, saying more than just his name, sends a shock through you still. It’s too long of a moment before his words finally sink in.
“Oh! I...Happy birthday. I’m sorry, I—“
“Forgot?” he says with a dry chuckle. You drop your gaze. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him turn his head. You meet his eyes. He looks at you with a strange expression. There’s anger, and hurt, and...pity?
“Lucretia, do you...do you not remember what day it is?” he asks.
You think hard, trying to recall when you last looked at a calendar, but Davenport doesn’t give you much time before he says:
“Lucretia, today is the day that you took our memories away from us.”
You stare at him. You blink a few times. And before you realize it there are tears on your face and you’re on your knees in front of your captain, sobbing.
Davenport does nothing.
When you finally are all cried out, when you’re reduced to disgusting and undignified sniffles, he touches your shoulder, lightly, as if he might break you even more.
“I’m not ready to forgive you yet,” he says, and you’re grateful for his honestly even though his words pierce through your heart. “But I do want to thank you.” You look up at him, confused.
“Thank me? What...why?”
Davenport grins wryly.
“You gave me the worst birthday present ever,” he says. “It can only get better from here.”
And he walks off, back toward the party, and his crew. He doesn’t look back once.