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"Yasha. Yasha look at me. It's going to be okay. Yeah?" Beau's words have more confidence in them than she feels right now, the silence beyond the stone walls deafening for the long hours they've been here like this. It's cold in the cell and the chains are a heavy reminder of what's planned for them - plans that are becoming more real with every clattering footfall of the guards down the long hallway.
Yasha's head is bowed and bloody, the gash in her side angry beneath her shirt but rising and falling steadily. The walls echo with the sound of keys in the lock at the end of the hall, and Beau can see her own fear reflected in Yasha's widening pupils in the dull afternoon light coming in from above.
"Yasha," Beau says urgently. She looks lost when she drags her eyes up. Resigned. Beau's not having it. "Come here." The chains prevent her from reaching for Yasha, but she leans over to kiss her hard as the footsteps grow louder.
"Hey! Stop that!"
It takes a second, but then Yasha's kissing her back just as fiercely and Beau feels something slot into place inside of her. Maybe a broken rib. Maybe the feelings she's been too scared to figure out. Who knows, really.
There's keys in the lock to their cell now, but neither of them look up. There's still time for rescue, but by all the gods if something goes wrong and this is it, Beau will take every second she can to tell Yasha with a kiss what she's spent months trying to find the words to say.
They're dragged up to a standing position and pulled apart from each other, and the light is back on in Yasha's eyes as she snarls and jerks her arm out of the guard's grip. Beau squirms free from hers to meet Yasha in the middle for one last desperate kiss before they're wrenched apart again, and the force of the blow landed between her shoulder blades makes her grit her teeth as Yasha continues struggling. She's strong and she's massive, but she's bleeding hard and finally they manage to immobilize her. Beau coughs a little, smirking. It still takes four of them.
One of the guards is cupping his jaw where Yasha's elbow struck him, voice a little thick. "Get them up to the gallows. I want this over and done with."
He's just close enough for Beau to surge upwards and bash her skull into his nose, and it's a short and bitter victory that she savors even as her arm is wrenched back immediately for it.
She's pinned against the breastplate of one of the guards holding her, his awful breath and sweaty, stubbly cheek far too close to her face. "I'm gonna enjoy watching you die."
Beau gives him a bloody and mirthless grin. "Better men than you have tried and failed, motherfucker."
They have to lift her off the ground, but in the end they get her into the hall with Yasha and start herding them towards the stairs. She's so tired. Her arm burns, the wounds in her back screaming, but if it's just them then they can do nothing but fight to the end.
And then it comes. A cannon blast, unmistakable in its air-splitting crack - the most beautiful sound Beau has ever heard.
The most beautiful, that is, until she hears the impact of the shot on the building nearby and the subsequent fervor of yelling guards and alarm bells beginning to ring.
A guard whirls to try and look through the window the cell they just vacated, slack-jawed with fear. "It's the rest of them!"
Breathing hard, Beau catches Yasha's eye and grins, chest clenching and releasing in relief. She mouths "told you," but she can hear her heart in her ears and feel her knees threatening to give.
Yasha smiles back, a bloody and gorgeous thing. "You did."
"Shut up!" snarls a guard. "This isn't over."
"Oh yes," says the guard holding rather redundantly on to Beau's arm. "It is." His voice sounds squeaky, almost like -
Beau feels the familiar press of a key into her hand and looks up over her shoulder to find that the bland male guard on her right has turned blue and decidedly pointier in her obvious delight.
"Bout time," says Beau.
Jester's saccharine smile is positively devilish. "I was just thinking the same thing about you!"
The manacles clatter from Beau's wrists as Jester blocks an incoming swing from the other guard. "Let's get out of here," she says, and then the firing starts outside.
Beau has never been accused of having her priorities straight. Or much of anything else, but that's a joke she doesn't have time to make. The ship is further out in the water now than she could hope to swim, but she can figure out what to do about her renewed status as a loner when she's ditched the guards she led away. Just keep running. They're safe. That's enough.
"Beau!"
She nearly trips because that's Fjord's voice, and if that's Fjord's voice then who's sailing the fucking ship?
She finds her footing and risks a glance up into the trees to yell, "what the fuck man, go!"
She sees a blur that might be her captain drop down and away, finds fresh adrenaline when he shouts "get to the water!"
She can hear the guards gaining - impeded as they may be by weapons and armor, they're freshly rested and well-fed. Beau's fast, but she's wounded and running and frankly, she's had a hell of a day.
Grim satisfaction curls behind her chest as she zigzags and hears a curse as a bolt whizzes past where she'd just been. She's made sure to give them a hell of a day too.
The treeline is close, and the gunshot that goes wide this time is nearly deafening. There's a whistle of a crossbow bolt a moment later - spare no fucking expense, huh? It's flattering in a weird way. They came prepared to take on seven of them, but they'll take their frustration out on the one they have left.
Beau bursts from the trees and leaps from leafy embankment down to the beach, and a quick cast about finds Fjord, standing in swirling water with his hand out as he looks urgently over Beau's shoulder.
"You're supposed to be gone!" she yells. "The crew needs you!"
"You're crew, dammit!" He brings his other hand up to fire three green bolts past Beau and into the tropical nightmare she just sprinted through. "Come on, you're nearly there!" The water around Fjord picks up speed, projectiles whizzing by as Beau reaches -
Two impacts and a sound she barely registers as the breath being forcibly removed from her before her hand finds Fjord and they're off - sprint teleporting towards the ship at a blinding pace and leaving a distant series of thunderclaps in their wake to mingle with aggravated gunshots.
Fjord's last leap lands them on the deck of the distant ship, where they're immediately tackled by Jester and Veth. Veth's hug is sincere, but Beau knows her well enough to anticipate and be unoffended by the feel of one of her small hands in her pockets. Beau swats it away and pulls three dubloons out of a hidden pocket and flashes them at Veth, grinning tiredly. "I think that puts me at two more than you?"
Veth scowls. "No fair, you got extra time and extra guards to snatch from!"
Beau barks a laugh. "You got me. I'll do anything to win." Her back throbs harshly, but she ignores it and turns to Jester. "Where's Yasha? Is she okay? I made sure she got on before I doubled back."
"Oh that reminds me," says Fjord pleasantly. "What the fuck was that?"
"Buying you time to get out of range, obviously." Now Veth and Fjord are glaring at her. "What?"
"We had it covered," says Veth. Jester, for her part, still just looks delighted everyone's back.
"Look," Beau protests. "Clearly you guys made a new plan while Yasha and I were stuck waiting to get matching rope necklaces, but I didn't get the memo. Kinda had to make my own plan."
Fjord sighs, but it's one of fond exasperation. "You didn't have to, actually. But I know why you think that." He puts his hand on her shoulder, a privilege afforded him by the fact that he only ever does it when he's about to say something nice. "I'm just glad you're safe. No captain without a first mate."
Yep, there it is. Beau's head feels light suddenly, and she has to focus hard to bring herself back down to the present and her surroundings. "I know, I know. Trust and stuff. I trusted you all to show up, didn't I? And to get away. And you did." She steps out from under his hand and squints around. "Now where's Yasha?"
The light on the sky and the sea is blinding, Jester's brilliant skin gone hazy and blending in with both as her joyful expression turns concerned. "She's down below with Caduceus. She won't let him-"
Beau's already moving towards the door leading belowdecks when it's wrenched open from the inside - and there's Yasha, stripped to the bloody waist and squinting desperately at the light on deck. Beau freezes, suddenly unsure of herself, but Yasha's eyes have already found her and they widen in shock and relief.
"Beau." She says it like it's been punched out of her, and then they're rushing the few steps between them.
Or Yasha is, anyway. Beau takes most of a step and finds that the bright world has also gone sideways suddenly, and her thrilled sprint turns to more of an enthusiastic faceplant into Yasha's startled arms. Yasha sucks in a breath of alarm, and when she repeats Beau's name it's with quiet horror.
She hears Fjord's voice from behind, distant somehow and abruptly urgent. "Fuck. She took one in the back at the edge of shore. Get Caduceus."
Huh. She did, didn't she? That explains a lot.
She's pretty sure it was two though, but it's easy to be magnanimous when she's being held like this so she politely doesn't correct him.
"Your tits are so nice," she slurs instead. At least she's pretty sure she does - it's definitely what she's thinking, what with her face in them.
Before she can piece together what she said or what Yasha heard, the world goes dark.
Beau wakes in her bunk, lamp burning low and the rock of the ship a gentle welcome as she blinks groggily and shifts in her hammock with a wince. She won't die - in fact she feels better than anyone has a right to after the day she's had - but ugh. Fuck.
She'd assumed she was alone, so it startles her to turn her head and find Yasha sitting against the wall with her arms around her knees. Her worried gaze is just slipping into a different kind of anxiety as her eyes slide from Beau to the floor in front of her.
She's fully dressed now, which. Disappointing but understandable. Beau can't have it all. A quick glance down shows that her own top is missing, replaced with clean bandages. She prods at them gently. Yep. Ow.
Beau twists a little so that she's lying on her side and spends a moment just watching Yasha and getting her bearings before speaking. "Hey. Look at us - we made it again."
Yasha's mouth pulls into a small frown, and Beau suddenly remembers - she'd kissed that mouth. Like three times. Probably a good sign that she's here in Beau's quarters then, unless it's to explain why they shouldn't do that again.
But Yasha says nothing, just nods reluctantly and doesn't look up.
Anxiety starts a slow crawl in Beau's gut. "You look better," she says, and because she has chronic can't shut the fuck up syndrome, adds: "I mean don't get me wrong, the bloody and angry look definitely does it for me, but it comes with a kind of worry, you know." She watches Yasha for another moment. "You look good no matter what, but clean and sad's never been my favorite. What's wrong?"
The usual sounds of feet on wood and rustling of people doing people things is quiet. Beau wonders idly if it's nighttime.
"Thanks." Yasha's voice is so soft that Beau almost doesn't hear it.
She leans forward. "Thanks? My pleasure. But out of curiosity, for what specifically?"
It's too dark to tell if Yasha's mouth actually quirks, but her voice is stronger now. "For…keeping my spirits up, there at the end."
Beau huffs, but her heart is fluttering at the base of her throat now. "For kissing you, you mean. Like I've been wanting to since pretty much day one and was too chickenshit to try until we were about to get strung up? Sure."
Yasha glances up at her and away again. "Yes. That." She scrubs her hands down her face. "And…I'm sorry."
Ah. This is the part where she explains to Beau that she shouldn't have accepted, that she hadn't expected to live to deal with the fallout. It's fine, she tells herself. It's fine.
"It's fine."
Yasha blinks at her. "I haven't even said for what yet."
Beau wonders if Yasha can see her face darkening from six feet away in the dimness, waves a hand dismissively. "You don't have to, I get it. Last moments desperation thing, it's fine. I promise I won't be weird about it. Well. Within reason. I reserve the right to brag at least a little."
"What? The - no, Beau. I'm sorry for leaving you behind."
It takes Beau a second to shift her thoughts, another to let Yasha's words sink in, and then she spends another two going back to the part where Yasha's not sorry about the kiss before wrestling herself back to what's eating Yasha. "That was the whole point of getting you to the ship, Yash. You were supposed to get on it and get far away. I told you, I was right behind you."
Yasha's long fingers curl into fists. "You weren't right behind me. I turned around, and you were - I watched them chase you into the jungle with their guns, and…" She takes a deep breath, and it's slowly dawning on Beau that just maybe - just once - she might actually get to have it all. "I didn't deserve that kiss," Yasha says finally. "And I don't deserve you. I didn't protect you."
Beau's wounds flare in protest as she pulls her legs up and off the side of the hammock. "Hey." Yasha looks up just in time to watch her land wrong and jar her ankles, because of course she does. "Ow. Shit. You didn't see that." Yasha's hands had reached reflexively for her, and now they pull back to grip her knees again. Her knuckles are white even in the dark.
She doesn't move when Beau drags her battered ass over to flop next to her, back against the wall, but she isn't moving away either. "I got bad news," she says solemnly. Yasha looks to her, concerned and checking her over for opened wounds. Hot.
Focus.
"I think I'm exactly what you deserve."
Yasha looks away quickly, and Beau can't quite make sense of the sharp exhale she gives as she does so. "Have you seen yourself?" Her voice is doing that quiet thing again. "Because I have. You are…brilliant, Beau. In every sense of the word. You have so much love, and I…" she sighs. "I have not been worthy of love in a very long time."
This is nothing close to how Beau thought the conversation after an impulsive kiss would go - the lack of rejection within a bunch of compliments that still sound a hell of a lot like rejection is making her head spin a little.
Possibly it's the ship, or dehydration, or the nearly dying. Whatever. It's not important.
"Okay, time for good news." Yasha doesn't look at her, but Beau knows she's listening. "That's complete bullshit."
Silence stretches between them for a long moment, and Beau cautiously lifts a hand from her lap to rest it in the crook of Yasha's elbow. Yasha jumps but staunchly refuses to pull away, and Beau is rewarded after a few breaths with the return of her dark and wary gaze. "What do you mean?"
Oh, they might - Beau might actually - okay, don't fuck this up. "I love you." Fuck. "Obviously." Okay, time to shut up. "Kind of always have?"
At this point she just gives up and plants her whole face in her hand, gripping onto Yasha with the other and trying not to start hyperventilating as she stares at the floor in front of them.
She feels Yasha shift and can't bring herself to look up and see her moving away, but then she feels tentative fingers on her own and hears Yasha say, "Really?"
Beau's head snaps up at the near whisper of her voice to find that yes, Yasha's eyes are filling with tears. Beau slips her fingers more tightly between Yasha's and reaches up with her other hand to gently, hesitantly brush at the glimmer pooling over her right cheek. She smiles a wobbly smile of her own. "Yeah. Really."
Yasha's breath comes out in a sudden and incredulous rush. "Why?"
What the fuck does she mean, why? Where does Beau even start?
"Sorry," Yasha says before Beau can make sense of her train of thought. "That's not the right reaction. I…that's incredible." She smiles and tips her head gently into Beau's hand, closing her eyes when Beau swipes an unsteady thumb over and over her skin. She's even softer than Beau had imagined. It's mesmerizing.
Yasha freezes suddenly, eyes flying open again. "Shit. Ah…sorry. I love you too."
Nobody's more surprised than Beau at the laugh that pulls itself from deep in her chest. "I uh. I figured, but it's good to hear. Kinda embarrassing otherwise, you know."
"No." Yasha turns her head to kiss the smudgy underside of Beau's forearm without breaking eye contact. "Not embarrassing at all."
The tips of Beau's ears are burning like hell. Fuck, it feels like her heart is melting - dripping all over her ribs on the way down to pool hot and tight in her belly. She can't be completely certain, but she thinks maybe she's seeing some of that heat reflected in Yasha's eyes.
Fuck it, if Yasha loves her (Yasha loves her!) then she knows exactly what sort of babbling and impulsive bullshit she's getting into. "That's a relief. I hate being embarrassing." She fixates on Yasha's lips. "So you, uh. Wanna do something about it?"
Yasha's moving forward practically before the end of the question, mouth coming down hard on Beau's exactly how she likes.
That's a yes if she's ever heard one - tasted one - and as she pulls a leg over and around to brace herself and push back against Yasha, a distant part of Beau wonders idly if it's past midnight or no. Had she really been minutes from death and pressed against Yasha twice in the same day?
Yasha takes her bottom lip between her teeth and bites down gently, and Beau decides she doesn't actually care that much after all. She’s here now, and she’s not going anywhere.
Well. Maybe Yasha’s bunk.