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Nana had taught Jim about patience.
Patience, and the art of being ready to strike at the most precise moment were the keys to staying alive. And Jim agrees with that, their shared value proving to be true time and time again, but they also know there’s more to it. Food and water, obviously, is pretty important if you want to keep breathing. Tampering your temper, even amongst idiots is a pretty big one, too. Oh, and you can’t really forget about making yourself valuable, which Jim had done unwittingly and managed to be an indeterminable length away from their partner and (pretty decent) friends.
Really, though, the key to staying alive is being able to find and control secrets. So when Jim comes to and sees Lucius squatting over their food, they pin his sleeve to the wall and ask for answers. And when they find out that Lucius isn’t even supposed to be alive, that he’d managed to find a way in through one of Stede’s hidden doors and it spat him out here, they yank their knife out of the wood and let Lucius finish off the bowl of questionable contents. They peak through the door Lucius had left cracked, hear the ocean roar down the narrowed hall, and wonders how they’d never found one of these spots because fuck if they didn’t need a private place to escape to more often than not.
Admittedly, Lucius has very little value besides his literacy on a good day, and his peak price probably does involve him being dead or at least silenced. To Jim, at least. However, there's power in numbers, and even more power in a hidden ace, which meant Lucius needed to stay both alive and out of the general public’s sight. Lucky for them, Jim knew a thing or two about coasting under the radar, and a couple more nights in the hidden room wouldn’t exactly kill Lucius. It’s still a fight that ends in a knockout move and them barricading the door but hey, you do what you gotta do to keep things moving and stay in control. Jim doesn’t doubt their own skills for a second, but they’re pretty sure Blackbeard wouldn’t hesitate to kill them were he to discover this particular mess of his own making too soon. And Jim’s list of things to do before they died had recently gotten a little bit longer.
(Plus they might owe him a little, for keeping his short-lived knowledge of Jim’s own secret, and getting the family dagger back.)
No, the timing had to be precise. Lucius needed to be patient unless he really did want to end up dead, and Jim would hedge their bets on Izzy taking a more direct approach than the captain. Once they looped Frenchie in, they’d explain their plan and maybe brainstorm a way to get out of this depressing hell hole with the least amount of injury.
Of course, Jim doesn’t really account for the captain purposely keeping them and Frenchie apart, mainly because Blackbeard looks like shit and he could probably be taken out by one strong breeze. It’s easy to see that he’s not been sleeping, easier to notice by the kohl smudges all around his face he’s not quite well, but those things are less Jim’s problems and more minor obstacles if he’s still coherent enough to distance the two bonus crewmen he’d chosen to keep. Honestly, they think, it’s probably more of Izzy’s work than anything else, but that’s a whole other mindfuck of a man Jim has no interest in dealing with. For now, at least.
So they bide their time, sneaking meals and occasionally exchanging gossip to Lucius, who hears way too fucking much in the walls. They attempt to communicate through discreet eyebrow movement and subtle hand gestures (which Frenchie has not comprehended, except for the cocksucker one about Izzy and that accidentally got them three days without rations). They push the thought about their friends potentially dying or being dead to the back of their mind, lock it in a box and throw away the key because worrying about that will just make everything else on their plate harder. They do their best to blend in, even if it means staying quiet for a while.
And sometimes—rarely ever, really—they quietly hope Olu figures out something to bring them all back together. Miracles don’t actually happen unless you make them, but they’ve got enough faith left in them to spare a thought for the big capital G in the sky if He’s still listening. Or She. Or They. Probably a They.
God’s definitely a they.
—
Oluwande does not enjoy being marooned in any situation, but he enjoys being marooned in sight lines to another island with more shade even less than he would normally.
Roach tries to swim towards it, but he gives up pretty quick because it’s a long stretch and it’s not like they’ve got much energy to begin with. The sun is draining the life from them and it’s been long enough now without eating that he can see Buttons getting a bit twitchy. So as acting captain, he suggests they play a game: what’s the best way to kill Blackbeard?
“Fire,” Wee John’s quick to say. “The fecker’s gonna burn in hell anyways, might as well get it started.”
“Stab him. Skin him. Give him a taste of his own shit,” Roach hums, and there’s murmurs of agreement there.
“Wouldn’t ‘t be more embarrassin’, selling him to th’ crown? We can burn, stab, an’ skin him first and let ‘em do what they want with his corpse.” Buttons is back to laying down in the sand now, staring up towards the sky. It’s probably no less of a threat than any other position he could be in, but Oluwande feels a bit safer now regardless. “They’d pro’lly have a party and put his bits on display.”
“Yeah, but the captain probably wouldn’t like that.” Black Pete says, and the mood shifts. Everyone knows he’s not talking about Oluwande. “He probably wouldn’t like any of this talk, actually.”
“Fuck ‘em,” Roach spits. “He left us and now we’re probably gonna die here, ‘cos of him.”
Wee John grunts, “He and No Beard can rot together, ruinin’ our lives instead of each other’s. What’d we do to deserve this kind of death, fer feck’s sake.”
“I mean, we lived a lot longer than I expected at least. That stomach bug from Roach’s first meal almost wiped us out from the get-go.” Oluwande says, and the crew murmurs in agreement again. “Stede wasn’t like, the best captain, but he got us through that. Got us through a lot, honestly.”
There’s a silence that sort of covers them, more of a reflective one than anything else. Oluwande knows they hadn’t really had time to grieve the loss of him, even if it shouldn’t matter who’s leading them so long as it wasn’t Dizzy Izzy, but Stede was…different. Sure, he didn’t have many captains to compare him to (Blackbeard, for instance, was a seemingly terrible choice at the moment), but he knew it wasn’t typical for captains to read their crew to sleep, let alone make them talk through their issues. Stede made them care about each other, so much that the loss of any of them could be felt and felt hard. He did miss Frenchie’s recurrent insistence on women having crystals in their bodies, but also his recurrent singing under his breath that eventually had the whole deck joining in. He misses Lucius’s snark, surprisingly enough, but also his attentiveness and bluntness that wasn’t valued nearly enough. He misses Jim’s…
Well, he just misses Jim. Plain and simple, there.
He won’t be the one to say it, but Stede did kind of make them a big family of misfits. And the lack of Stede right now when they’re also down more men is kind of a bummer.
“He said I sang like an angel,” The Swede’s voice is quiet, almost lost in the wind. “Nobody’s ever said that before.”
Wee John clears his throat, “He did have the best story voices.”
“I liked the arts and crafts, a bit.” Roach shrugs.
“He was okay, I guess.” Black Pete says, and then they’re all talking over each other, jostling one another because damn it, they’ve got each other and there’s gotta be a way out of this, right?
Except Buttons takes advantage of the chaos and starts chasing people with his biting teeth in, and Roach joins him, for whatever reason. Wee John and Black Pete look like they might break into a fight and The Swede’s about to go headfirst into the ocean, even though Oluwande is 70% sure he’s not that great a swimmer. He’s gonna die surrounded by these bastards and he won’t even have a body for Jim to find because they’ll all just eat him, probably. Such is his fucking life, he supposes, pushing himself up to yank The Swede back on land.
“Oh, fuck me.” He says, eyes catching on something else out in the water. Moving, even, so he takes out his spyglass for a better look. “This is a joke, isn’t it?”
Because it’s Stede, of course it’s fucking Stede, and he’s always got perfect timing somehow. He hears the rest of them take notice, maybe of the obvious dinghy coming towards them rather than the fact it’s their old captain, but there’s less chance of cannibalism when they’re all waving for attention, slowly watching the gap close between them. Stede can barely get a word out before Wee John’s squeezing him into a hug, but then a few of them (including Wee John) get some hits in because fuck Stede, also. He does explain himself later—a long winded story he does voices for and acts out at times, which doesn’t necessarily soften the crew entirely to his presence but it’s a start. They’re a family, after all, and sometimes family forgives even the worst of mistakes.
Stede takes Buttons, Roach, and Black Pete with him to acquire something bigger for them to set sail on, after leaving the rest of him most of his food. He offers Oluwande a spot also, but Olu figures whoever gets left behind will probably need some guidance to not die just yet. Plus, he’s not sure he’s ready to give up his reluctantly acquired captaincy and this is as good a time as any to really get a feel for it.
(It sucks, honestly, being in charge of other people but especially his friends, so he’s fairly relieved when the others return with slightly bigger dinghys to get them all towards the port town.)
Since Stede is legally dead and his money’s a bit less endless than it was when he’d had the first ship built, it’s pretty obvious to Oluwande that whatever boat they board won’t be anything close to the Revenge . The others are a bit miffed by this, though they do get into quite the fight stealing the ship they do take off on, earning them a few new scars and a place on the ocean again. Stede also narrowly avoids being knocked out by a flaming bottle to the head, and blurts out something to the tune of his boyfriend Blackbeard making them pay for that.
“Do you think he’ll hear about that? The, um…the boyfriend bit?” It’s later, and most everyone is asleep. Oluwande’s steering and Stede is seated near him, holding meat to his blackening eye. “We didn’t really talk too much about that sort of thing. Just kind of assumed, really, and you know what they say about assuming.”
“It shouldn’t be done in place of meaningful conversation?”
Stede barely holds back his smile at that, “Well, yes, but. The thing about being an ass, too.”
“I don’t think it matters either way. Blackbeard stole our ship and didn’t seem all too keen on talking to anyone, at least not at the moment. He’s just looking for more fights.” He says. “And for what it’s worth, you could probably do better than someone who lashes out like a child rather than confronting things like a man.”
“I’m sure you’re not wrong about that—”
“I know I’m not wrong about it.”
Stede pats his thigh, “Yes, well. Regardless, I do think I love him, despite all this. Hurt people hurt people, and while it’s not an excuse, it’s a part of an explanation, and I’d like to give him the chance to talk it through with me before I give up on him entirely.”
“Just leave your options open, is all I’m sayin’.” Oluwande tells him, though he’s not sure he means it anymore than Stede’s taking him seriously on it. He gets it, that terrible bit of blind faith that comes in opening yourself to someone. If Jim did something like this to him (which, he admits, could still happen) he’d probably give them that same chance, that same faith there’s something larger that they could work through together. Relationships are all about togetherness, he thinks. “Or hold him accountable for what he’s done, at least.”
Stede quirks a brow at that, “What do you mean?”
“Like, don’t let him off easy just because you love him. He has to know it’s not okay and why it’s not okay, so there’s less of a chance of it happening again. He’s already in deep shit with everyone, and I doubt they’ll let themselves be marooned or threatened again without Ed also going down with us.”
“But wouldn’t he already know it’s not okay?”
“I mean, logically, yeah, but it’s a conversation that’s not really avoidable. He tore up our fa—our crew.” Oluwande says, and silently prays Stede does not make a big deal of his slip up. “There’s gonna be hell to pay for that, whether you two kiss and make up or not.”
Stede goes quiet for a moment, then says, “You guys won’t like, kill him this time, yeah?”
“It’s on the table for sure,” He shrugs. “But I guess we can worry about that when we get it. You should be more concerned about the fact we don’t have any idea where we’re going, or where they’re going, and we can’t just hope we’ll stumble across them.”
“I disagree. I think we can hope for that, and be a bit like detectives for a change. I think if anyone can solve a mystery like this, it’ll be our crew.” Stede sounds so sure that Oluwande doesn’t even have it in him to be a realist about it. If that’s what the captain wants, he guesses they’ll figure it out, one way or another.
Hopefully before Buttons fully gets Roach on board with cannibalism.
—
Jim gets very bored, very quickly.
Months pass, spring shifting into summer. At some point they end up cutting their hair, short enough it’s noticeable and long enough that it doesn’t make Jim think too hard about it. Making it into a passable beard for Lucius is a bit of issue, especially when the ungrateful bastard complains about it being itchy, but after a bit of tweaking and some additional trimmings added after the results of their boat wide haircut scheme, it’s good enough that Lucius can sneak above deck every now and then for some fresher air and sneak his own food. Naturally, this means less work for Jim to take on outside their ship duties, which leads to boredom.
They convince a few of the crewmates who’ve chosen to stupidly underestimate them to join in for some target practice, unaware of the knowledge they’d be the targets. Naturally, Jim never misses their mark, and they think that everyone seems to take them bit more seriously in consequence. It also leads to a bit more fun when Blackbeard shows up and lets Jim take the lead of fully ridding the ship of those guys, because they don’t need anyone who can’t take a blade without bitching about it. Jim doesn’t feel strongly about killing one way or another, but they would feel worse about killing these dudes specifically if they didn’t overhear them still calling them a girl.
They’re not one, clearly. Maybe some of their body stuff isn’t quite right but it doesn’t matter because they’re Jim now, and everyone on the ship should respect that. Will respect that, now, seeing as Jim’s built quite the body count for those who want to challenge them out loud. It’s not that it makes them doubt themself, but it sure doesn’t help them sort out their feelings about what being Jim means. And they’d like to work their shit out without the peanut gallery, thanks.
(It’s the girl thing that bothers them the most, they think. When they refer to him like they’re a man, it’s not perfect, but it’s not totally wrong either.)
Frenchie’s even taken to stitching people up painfully wrong in solidarity if they give off bad vibes. Jim’s not gonna thank him for that, but they might leave the more edible meals in Stede’s auxiliary closet for him.
Lucius had found an alternate way in there a bit back now, and that’s where the three of them had been sneaking off to for plotting reasons. It was more of a curse rather than a blessing that Blackbeard’s room was on the other side of the wall, because it limited their time in there to when the captain was topside, and there weren’t a lot of those moments. Not until recently, Jim supposes, when he’d started taking interest in raiding ships again. But before then, Blackbeard mostly slept or cried in his room and only came out to get more to drink. It was pretty pathetic, honestly, but Jim thinks whatever he’s going through has to be worse than anything any of them could do to him. And they’ve all had their ideas about that.
Jim watches Izzy engage Blackbeard in a conversation about another boat they’ll board, meets Frenchie’s eye across deck and winks. That means wait ten minutes and follow, they’d explained, and as they descend they bump the wall a few times to alert Lucius to the same thing. There’s a bit of pride in them at that, the fact they’d managed to create and master a whole secret language with their friends, but that quickly fades because the fact Lucius is technically one of their closest friends now is cause for a bit of whiplash. Oluwande’d probably have too much fun laughing at that.
God, they miss him. Ignoring the whole feelings situation, he was their best friend, and there’s been too many times to count that they’ve turned to tell him something only to be greeted with nothing. If Blackbeard was smart he’d have kept Olu around solely to temper Jim, though maybe he enjoys the chaos Jim’s brought so far. Izzy most definitely does, if only because it gets Blackbeard out of bed, but Jim’s still working on a way to make it bite that dick in the ass.
Frenchie’s good enough company, though, and his inane singing does help to calm Jim’s nerves. He enters the closet after Jim’s put one of Stede’s robes back in its place (it’s fucking silk, okay?), greeting them with a fist bump as Lucius slips in behind him. “Thought you might chewed out after that stunt you pulled.”
“Everyone likes danger,” They shrug, leaning against the wall. “Lucius, what’s the intel on that ship?”
“Oh, it’s just another dumb British vessel. Nothing special.” He waves it off, “Actually, I think I saw—”
“The flagless one, yeah?” Frenchie cuts in, much to Lucius’ surprise. “It’s been trailing us for a bit now, but it’s not like, too suspicious yet.”
Jim raises a brow, “How long is a bit?”
“Just a few days, really. I honestly thought I might be seeing things, ‘cos you can only catch it through the scope and I wasn’t really looking for anything when I was messin’ around with it. But it’s there, usually, when I look for it.” Frenchie says. “No idea who’s on it, though.”
“D’you think Izzy’s noticed? Or Ed, for that matter.” Lucius asks.
Jim shakes their head, “Nah, Cap’s been too fixated on the Brits and Izzy’s got his head too far up Cap’s ass to notice anything else. That’s some good intel, Frenchie.”
“I knew it, too,” Lucius mumbles. Jim chooses to ignore it.
“So, what should we do about it? Just…keep watch?” Frenchie tucks his hands into his pockets, “Wait for them to get closer, maybe, then say something?”
“We’re not saying shit to anyone about this, it’s the only real leg up we have.” Jim scoffs. “No, we should send a message out, maybe. We can tie it to Olivia’s leg and hope she gets the idea.”
Frenchie makes a face at that, “I dunno, I don’t think she’s really recovered from losing her husband. Or the whole nearly blowing up thing. Buttons was the best with calming her.”
“I think the better question is whether or not the other ship has people who can read.” Lucius says.
“Then we’ll draw a picture too, just in case. It just has to be the right thing.”
Frenchie opens his mouth.
“Not a cat,” Jim adds.
“It would scare off the wrong people, that’s all I’m sayin’.” He holds his hands up in surrender.
“No, I think he might be onto something.” Lucius looks far too concentrated, “What if…I mean, it’s a big what if, but what if it’s the old crew?”
“That’s stupid,” Jim says in the same breath that Frenchie says, “That’d be brill.”
Lucius gives Jim a look before continuing, “Just, if we draw the cat from the old flag and ask if they’ve seen that cat before, we’d know for certain.”
“We should ask if they know her name!”
Jim gives Frenchie a look this time, “You didn’t tell anyone she had a name.”
“She doesn’t, that’s the point. You name the cat, you get entangled with all her witchy business. Everyone knows that.” He says this matter-of-factly, like it’s supposed to mean anything besides a headache for Jim.
“Sure,” Lucius continues, “We’ll do that and definitely get a clear answer back.”
“If nothing else, it’s another ship we’ll end up boarding anyway, so it might even speed things along on that front.” There’s a wave of stomping on deck, as if on cue. “Speaking of boarding, duty calls. Lucius, you work on the message, maybe sneak it out during all this bullshit. Frenchie, you know the drill.”
“Ten minutes.” He winks and salutes, then thinks better of it. “No, two during battle.”
Jim smiles. “There we go.”
It’s a fight like any other, once they fully board the British boat. Jim’s quicker with their blades than these idiots are with their guns, and they don’t even have to reload (though yanking out the daggers can be just as time as consuming, they’ll admit). It does ruin their last non-bloody shirt, but they can probably find something nicer once they check the bodies. Maybe even something silk, if they’re lucky.
Still, maybe the best sight after their destruction is Olivia flying overhead, a bit jerkily but confident all the same, with the rolled paper tight around her leg. That and the new daggers they’ll clean up for next time, but they’ve gotta find a better way to store these things besides the waistband. Frenchie could probably sew something together for them, once Lucius drew something up—
God, they really are his friends.
—
“I think it’s Petunia,” Black Pete says. “Petunia’s a great cat name.”
The Swede shakes his head, “I’d bet my money on Cat, for sure.”
“That’s not even fecking creative, man.” Wee John argues. “It’s gotta mean something. Frenchie’s all about meaning.”
Oluwande is personally at his wit’s end with this, despite this being the first bit of hope they’ve had since they’d accidentally caught wind and drifted right behind the Revenge . Jim’s alive—all of them are alive, if the letters in the corner mean what Stede thinks they mean. They should be celebrating, plotting next steps to reclaim their home, not trying to uncover Frenchie’s shit riddle.
“What about Liberty? I’m pretty sure that means freedom.” Stede tries. “That’s what I feel when I’m out at sea.”
“I still think it’s Petunia,” Black Pete continues, after a brief silence has passed.
“Or,” Oluwande says, in annoyance, “It doesn’t have a name because Frenchie…hates cats. He thinks they’re witches.”
“Naming a witch does get you into some shit,” Roach agrees, as do the rest of them.
Stede holds his shoulder, “I think you might’ve solved this one, Captain. And brilliantly so, I might add.”
Co-captaining is a newer thing, given that Stede still lacks any real pirate traits, and the lack of a flag has made them a target once or twice now. Despite that, though, everyone’s pretty keen on not flying anything that’s not their original flags, which makes their desire to get back to the Revenge a strategical need as well as a general want. Olu’s a bit more comfortable bossing everyone around now, but he also knows it’s gonna be a pretty short-lived step up. He’s not looking to replace or contend with Ed, mostly because he doesn’t have a death wish but he’s still got no real interest in being truly responsible for his friends, let alone potentially Blackbeard’s crew. At least for now he can blame his fuckups on Stede.
He does think he can hold his own against Izzy, though, because he’d be insane to imagine peacefully being co-first mate with that prick. They should’ve tossed him overboard when they had the chance, honestly, but Oluwande’s gonna assume there’s plenty more people like Fang and Ivan on that vessel that feel the same way they all do. If he survives the first night they’re all together again it’d be a miracle.
Blackbeard, or No Beard as Wee John’s taken to calling him, is still a pretty sore subject. Stede’s given them his spiel about making mistakes and choosing forgiveness (and cried, which kind of ruined the mood a bit), but the crew is still in agreement there’s gotta be some of Ed’s blood shed to really feel that urge to fully forgive. They’ve walked back from the initial challenge of dueling, but there’s still plenty of other options on the table. Castration for some reason or another keeps coming up, but Oluwande stays pointedly away from those talks.
No, he’s been allowing himself a bit more time to think on the future, and where Jim might fit into it. At this point, Oluwande’s on board with anything Jim wants so long as they’re not out of his sight. He wouldn’t call himself clingy, just more in need of being able to get some solid hours in with the person he’s a little bit mad for before they get separated again. He wants to see if the madness means anything special, to either of them. If it could maybe build up to that love thing, even. Stede’s really ruined the whole repression of emotion things on the ship.
He and Black Pete end up commiserating about their missing partners every now and again, usually when everyone else is busy with something else. Neither of them are hiding their misery by any means, and everyone’s been both respectful and supportive about the whole yearning thing this go around. It’s just that the other guys don’t quite get it, being separated not by choice and having no idea what’s going through their heads. Black Pete actually gets into his head a little because technically he and Jim hadn’t really talked about what they were or what they wanted, not like he and Lucius did, and what if Jim didn’t still want him when they saw him again? What if they thought sleeping with him was a mistake, or that he’d been looking at them as if they weren’t Jim while they were doing it? What if he accidentally called Jim his partner out loud and they got upset by it because it’s not what they wanted in the first place? What if—
“Jeez, dude, chill out a bit. I didn’t mean t’ work you all up.” Black Pete takes a swig of his beer, “Jim’s alive. You’ll have time to figure that shit out together, same as the Captain and No Beard.”
“It’s just a lot more to it than you guys, though.” He says. “Like Jim is Jim. They scare the shit out of me sometimes, man. I don’t wanna piss them off because I can’t get my words right.”
“Then don’t say anything stupid, then.” Oluwande scoffs at that, “Yeah, I know, easier said than done. But you gotta say something, and if it ends up being stupid then so be it. You’ll probably regret not saying it at all if you don’t.”
Black Pete is right, but he makes no motion to acknowledge that. Instead, he asks, “D’ya think Lucius’ got a new journal for Ed’s stuff?”
“God, I hope so. You know he’s got a real way with words and emotion.” He clears his throat, does his best impression of Blackbeard. “Today I could hardly pull myself from bed. My heart’s not really into the whole fighting thing, especially now that I’ve lost my man and his incredible crew, but the job must be done.”
“That’s harsh, man.” Oluwande chuckles. “I bet it’s actually worse than that, though.”
“Yeah? What am I missing?”
“Oh, I dunno. He was pretty pathetic at the end there.” He does briefly scan around, checking for Stede before he slips into his own impression. “Now that my lover’s left me, I’m quite the wreck. Perhaps I’m the one who should’ve been doomed on that island, rather than some of the best crew I’ve ever seen. No matter. Now that I’ve held their favorites hostage, they’ll definitely send me to the watery grave I deserve. Hopefully I do something else adventurous before then, or at least stop slipping in my tear puddles.”
“Quite a good imagination you’ve got there, Olu.” Stede’s hand grips his shoulder, and he watches Black Pete stifle his laughter. “Though Ed’s voice is a few pitches beneath that, and far less scraggly.”
“Artistic rendition, sir.” He coughs out. “No offense, obviously.”
“Oh, obviously. Care to join me for a minute though, on an unrelated matter?”
“Um, sure.” He says, flipping off Black Pete behind his back as they walk off. “What is this about?”
“It’s not entirely unrelated, though I am choosing to ignore whatever the two of you were doing. I know heartache can make even the best of men a bit…foolish, we’ll say.” Stede holds open the door to his quarters, and Oluwande did not realize that the man had managed to hoard so many pieces of clothing in the few land excursions they made. “I need your opinion on a clothing matter.”
“And this is related to…Ed?” Oluwande tries.
Stede has the gall to look sheepish, “Yes, well. I just want to make the right impression, is all.”
“Right,” Oluwande skims over the options pulled together. “Yeah, none of this is really saying ‘Please take me back, I’m sorry’ to me. It’s mostly saying you have money that you definitely could’ve commissioned us a nicer ship with.”
“I didn’t want everyone to get too attached to things, in case we end up on the Revenge again. Though I thought the increase in pay would help mitigate that lack of comfort, too.” Oluwande makes a kinda gesture with his hand. “There’s still money for something better, either way this shakes out.”
“I think you should go really understated. Like, you’re gonna tell him how you really feel and all that. He shouldn’t be so focused on your clothes. Hell, I thought you weren’t even so focused on clothes anymore. You almost dress normal.” Stede looks down at that, reviewing his choice of a plain, loose fitted shirt and colored pants.
“Normal means different things to everyone, but I suppose I see your point. I just thought that…” He trails off, words lost to time. “No, I think you’ve put me on the right track again, Oluwande. I am quite grateful for your patience and help these days.”
He shrugs, “It’s nothing, really. Anyone of us would’ve done it. Probably.”
“Yes, I’m sure. But I don’t want you to think I’m ignoring your efforts around here, and it’s maybe a titch premature to ask but once things are…settled, I suppose, I’d like you to continue being my right hand, keeping me honest and whatnot. A proper first mate, you could say.”
“Um,” Oluwande hadn’t really thought about the fact Stede never formally offered him the position, he just sort of expected to have it. Hearing Stede say it aloud throws him off a bit. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”
Stede smiles, clasping his hands together. “That’s marvelous, then.”
Of course he brags to Black Pete about it the minute he leaves Stede’s room. He fucking earned it, damn it.
—
The two ships pass notes for a few days that turn into over a week via Olivia, who has been “nursed to health” by Buttons. Not one of them, least of all Jim, cares to ask more on that.
But it’s a nice bit of comfort, knowing they’ve got the upperhand. There’s a fuckery in the works, according to the latest message, and they seem pretty confident in it working without getting them killed. Jim will believe that when he sees it. Things are slow-going around here again, and there’s only so long he can go without starting shit up. Frenchie and Lucius came up with a decent holster for their daggers and while it’s admittedly pretty, they’d like to put it to work.
Because it’s a slow night shift and they’ve already knocked out their ridiculous chores, Jim decides to go secret passage hunting. There’s a good few of them that connect at a central intersection, but most of them are straight shots from one end to another. Jim’s navigating one of the longer connecting ones when there’s a crash on the other side of the wall, which doesn’t necessarily startle them, but they do end up falling into yet another alternative route to Stede’s auxiliary closet (how many fucking paths did he need to get in there?). They are also now face to face with Blackbeard, who’s not fully acknowledged their presence in favor of staring down at one of Stede’s robes that’s now soaked in alcohol and covered in glass.
“One of my favorites,” He says.
“Mine too,” Jim admits, pushing themself off the floor. “Y’know, I think it’s best if we just pretend this didn’t—”
“Come,” Blackbeard pushes the other entrance open, and it’s not really him asking so much as it is him telling them. They sidestep the mess and follow, watching him pour them both a glass of something else. “Sit. Drink.”
They take the glass and sit on the floor, seeing as the only other spot would be at the table, and that doesn’t feel like a wise choice at the moment. On the upside, if things go too far off course, they’d be immortalized as the person who took out Blackbeard while simultaneously killed by Blackbeard. Blackbeard, who’s still using kohl in the patchier parts of his beard and around his eyes, looking more youthful and yet concerningly less sane than the man Jim was first introduced to. “This is kind of—”
“Silence.” Blackbeard knocks back his glass, and Jim does the same, ignoring the burn of it. He tops himself off again, “How many are there?”
“How many...”
“Doors. People. Who’s been in there with you?” He asks, unsheathing his blade and letting it rest on the table beside him. “And don’t fucking lie.”
“There’s just two entrances I know about, sir.” They say, and it is like pulling teeth to not be more defensive, to evade submission. “And I’ve never brought anyone—”
“I’m not fucking stupid, Jim. I know you and Frenchie sneak off all the fucking time. So you’ve certainly told him.” He counts him on a finger, “That’s one person, which is already pretty bad in your favor. Thing is though, and I’m sure you know this, but I spend a lot of time down here. Time that’s supposed to be alone, but somehow, I hear movement in the walls even when you two are on deck. So I’ll ask again: who’s been in there with you?”
“It’s just been me, sir.” They can feel their jaw clenching, so they flex their hands, relocate the stress and anger building up. “Maybe if you’d have less to drink you wouldn’t be hearing things.”
He chuckles at that, but there’s no humor in it. “So I’m a drunk now because I’ve caught on to whatever shit you’re trying to pull?”
“You're a drunk because you smell more like a bar—”
“Watch your fucking tone, dog.” Blackbeard bangs his fists against the table, and they flinch but the anger rises. “You can answer my questions and maybe I’ll spare your life. Or you can keep digging your own grave here and I’ll do my own investigation while you hang.”
“Then hang me,” Jim snaps, “If you’re going to kill me, then fucking kill me.”
Blackbeard scoffs, moves for his blade, “Fine, if that’s what you want—”
“Let me finish,” Jim cuts him off this time, and surprisingly, the man pauses. He should not. “God, you’re pathetic. And here I was, thinking it’d be an honor to die in battle against you. But you don’t even really want me dead, do you? Not like you wanted Lucius dead. Just tossed him like he was nothing, yet I had to ask you to finish me. I asked the fearsome, monstrous Blackbeard to follow through on his own fucking words, and yet here I am, still alive.”
He narrows his eyes, “Who told you about Lucius?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
He bangs his fists against the table again, though Jim avoids flinching this time. Then he rubs at his face for a minute, softens himself a bit and says, “God, I’m too fucking old for this shit.”
“Aren’t you only—”
“You live a life like mine, then you can tell me what you think is too old. And don’t say anything else until I finish.” He pauses, as if daring them to jump in. “What happened to Lucius is his own fault. I’m not a puzzle in need of solving, and if he’d known that he would’ve stayed the fuck away, same as anyone else. It’s not like he’s that much of a loss anyway, and S—some people should do a better job of teaching their crew manners. Fucking Fang doesn’t even speak to me the way you two do, and he’s been around forever. I should’ve killed you the minute you fell into the closet, should cut out your goddamn tongue for your disrespect but I’m not going to. You want it too bad, and whatever you’re trying to avoid is gonna fuck you up better than I can. You think you know me? Got me and my misery and weaknesses all figured out? You’re not even close.”
A dagger flies by their face, close enough it almost knicks the skin. They don’t need to look down to know it’s one of theirs. “I’m not the man you think I am—I’m barely even a man at all. Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness, Jim. You want to see a real monster? Pull this shit again, step out of line, I’ll skin you myself.”
They wait a beat, in case there’s something else he wants to add, then go to leave. “Wait.”
They turn, and for a moment Blackbeard looks a lot less like a monster and more like the man who Jim watched give up everything for their captain. But it’s just for a moment, and he stands to cross the room, yanks out Jim’s dagger and places it in their hand. “You’ll need that.”
He turns his back, and Jim does not stab him.
Lucius and Frenchie are pretty impressed when they relay the story a few days later, this time when they’re tucked into a corner for lunch. They’re not sure if the whole confrontation thing contributed to it, but they and Frenchie have been getting shifts together where they’re actually allowed to be near one another, and no one really notices the occasional third party that joins them. A benefit of being unpopular, they suppose.
Frenchie’s also a bit worried. “I mean, if Ed’s that far gone, do you think he’s really gonna be receptive to seeing Stede again?”
“He’s miserable, pathetic, and lonely,” Jim chews through the worst sandwich they’ve ever had, swallows it. “Stede’s not gonna fix that, but it won’t hurt either.”
“He’s right,” Lucius shrugs, then winces a bit. “Sorry, they’re right. Much as I loathe the man, it’ll probably do more good than harm for him to see Stede again.”
“He is fine,” Jim says, because it feels more right than the other option they’ve been avoiding. “But yeah. That’ll be ready to go in a few more days, yeah?”
Lucius nods, “That’s what the last note said.”
“Fucking finally. Another week of this and I’d—”
“You’d what? Throw yourself overboard?” Izzy says, and Jim groans in annoyance. “Might see some friendly faces there if you give it a bit longer. I’m sure we’d end up throwing a very nice party to celebrate.”
“I never asked to be here, fuckface.” They mumble, leaning back in their chair.
Frenchie lets out a laugh, “Iz, I tell you, you’re pretty shit at learning simple lessons. Even you should be able to comprehend the phrase fuck off, and we’ve said it to you quite a few times now.”
“Just like you’ll comprehend a few days of double shifts, yeah? I hope you slept like a baby last night, ‘cos you won’t be seeing that pillow for quite some time.” He spats.
Jim rolls his eyes, “Doesn’t Ed’s dick need s—”
“It’s Blackbeard or Captain, and I won’t say it again.” He’s got a dagger at Jim’s neck, who retaliates with their food knife pressed hard into Izzy’s stomach. “Show some goddamn respect. Or should I just carve the reminder in myself?”
“Back the fuck off.” Their eyes are locked, but Jim can still feel the attention this is garnering. It’s not the best look, especially when Lucius needs as little of that drawn to him as possible. “Most people don’t get a warning.”
But Izzy doesn’t move, and neither does Jim. Izzy got everything to lose by walking away, and Jim’s got everything to gain by pressing the blunt blade a bit harder forward. It’s an impasse.
Or it is, until a door clatters open, and Blackbeard calls out, “Hands! Get your ass over here, now!”
So they drop it, for now, hands falling at the same time. Izzy fixes his clothes before he walks away, and Jim pulls the brim of his hat over his eyes. Frenchie waits for the crowd to disperse before he lets out a sigh. “Christ’s sake, Jim.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
Lucius frowns, “It’s just a few more days, Jim, hold it together. You can’t keep picking fights with people—”
“I’m not the one picking fights, and fuck you for saying so. You’re not even supposed to be alive, dude, and I’m more than happy to right that wrong.” Jim says. Then he closes his eyes, so he can’t see whatever sad face Lucius is making. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Yeah, well, you did. So I’m gonna fuck off for a bit.” They can hear him stand up, walk away. Frenchie doesn’t seem too eager to move though.
“You okay, Jim?” He asks after a minute’s passed. “You’re like…well, I mean, I guess all this is pretty typical for you, but not towards us these days.”
They shrug, “I’m fine, just bored. I don’t do well with too much downtime.”
“I could teach you how to play the lute, if you’d like.” Frenchie says. “But there’s probably more to it than just boredom, isn’t it?”
Jim shrugs again. “Stede’s not here yet, y’know. You don’t have to do this.”
“I know.” Frenchie takes their hand, squeezes it gently. “I want to, though.”
The boredom’s part of it, sure. But the boredom is because there’s free time, and the free time means those boxes that are supposed to be locked in the far corners of his mind can get pushed to the forefront. Then he has to deal with stupid thoughts, like whether or not he’s really going to let down Nana, their family, and hope to God that the rest of the bastards that killed his loved ones are already dead. Or how maybe it’s a good thing they’re dead because they don’t have to see him like this, and now Jim doesn’t have to worry about them lacking respect for him and his choices. Or if they’d lived, would Jim even be the same person? Would he have wanted to leave home at all, pretending to be someone he didn’t think he was until he realized he’d stopped pretending? And who is Jim, now that he’s not pretending?
Oluwande’s a whole other thing. Jim has already shown too much of themself to not admit that what he feels for Olu is not like anything else he’s allowed himself to experience. He feels okay opening up, okay exploring a feeling he’s watched make fools of the best men, and he finds himself wanting to, above all else. They can also admit, irrational as it may be, that they’re pissed at him for not being here—it’s not Oluwande’s fault, Jim knows this, but he should be here with him, figuring all this shit out, making sure they don’t get this bad and take careless risks. He doesn’t want to die as bad as he thinks he does, but if it would make everything else shut up for a minute, maybe death isn't the worst thing. It’s more permanent than sleep is, and the worries can’t seep into his dreams either.
It’s hard wording it out loud, speaking the worst things and watching Frenchie’s face try to stay neutral, but he feels lighter once it’s out. And Frenchie shares his own fears, like how he worries he’ll never find more purpose at sea, or how people underestimate him because he’s more attuned with the spirits and supernatural, and maybe he should’ve just been a singer or something because he’s too afraid of dying to be fully into the pirate thing. They don’t really have the words to reassure each other, but it’s still nice to know someone else is struggling, and they’ve got each other’s backs through it. Oluwande had offered to be Jim’s family, but Jim knows Frenchie’s offering the same thing now, without the words.
Apologizing to Lucius, even, is a little easier now that there’s not a million things weighing him down. Jim owes him his life a few times over at this point, and Lucius knows this but doesn’t get all manipulative about it. He just takes Jim at his word and they move on, which is fine with them because they’re at their limit with this whole vulnerability thing.
The thing is, even with the heavier stuff temporarily resolved, Jim’s got too much going on in his head. So he’s not as careful as he should be, going into their secret passages, and he is genuinely surprised to see Izzy when he exits Lucius’ makeshift room.
“Thought you looked familiar. Looks like we’ve got ourselves a stowaway and a traitor, eh?” Izzy’s got a hold on the door faster than Jim can slam it shut. He pulls something out of his pocket, a familiar scrap of parchment Jim is pretty sure the same size to have fit it around Olivia's leg. “Did you really think you were being sneaky with this? You lot are much dumber than you look.”
“You don’t want to do this, Hands.”
Izzy laughs, “Oh, I believe I really, really do.”
Fang and Ivan pop out of the shadows, restraining Jim before they’re able to switch into defense, and it’s the most worthless he’s ever felt. It’s a terrible fight because none of them want to be having it, but Blackbeard’s current way of commanding hasn’t allowed them to stay allied. By the time they’ve managed to fight their way through the rest of the crewmates that Izzy’s lined up, Lucius is already above deck and tied to the mast. Jim barely has time to even look for the bastard of the hour before they’re being shoved around until he’s dead center, and they’re all spouting traitor, traitor!
So they shut some of them up, a dagger into the shoulder or the thigh. They meet eyes with Frenchie for a brief moment and hope that they’re communicating that he should stay quiet and let him take on whatever this is, seeing as it’s mostly their fault. But the man won’t let Jim have it and now he’s pushing his way forward, too, because he’s got Jim’s back, right up until Blackbeard appears to make everyone go silent and still.
“Explain yourself.”
Jim scoffs, “The only thing I owe you is a quick death, same as any of these other bastards.”
But the rage halts when Fang calls Blackbeard over, and Jim follows their gaze to the ship that they know in their heart holds people that are dear to them. They watch that same realization hit Blackbeard, watch him melt just as Izzy takes a shot he’s not been ordered to execute. They watch Blackbeard sink into the ocean as chaos breaks out, and finally, finally , they are able to aim his last dagger into Izzy’s heart, knocking him down before the rest of them can even reach him and enact their own harm on his corpse.
They and Frenchie still have to push their way up to free Lucius, but it’s easier now that they aren’t the focus of everyone’s ire. They’ve got enough to sort out amongst themselves, brawls breaking out all over between those who somehow are able to side with Izzy and those who are loyal to their captain to the end. Naturally, Jim and Frenchie engage with anyone who try to fuck with them, but there’s not really a side they’re on besides their own. Their captain’s on land, or at least Jim’s hoping he’d made it there, and if they have to fight to join their family again, then they’d fucking fight until there was no more of it left in them.
(Though maybe they should’ve stopped fighting, briefly, to notice Lucius at the wheel. Jim’s not sure if there’s gonna be enough of Blackbeard’s crew left after things settle to push this thing offshore.)
—
“This is so fucking stupid.”
Oluwande’s not sure why he expected to wake up to like, a normal situation, but Stede’s shouting activated his need to fight for his life. Unfortunately, he’d followed the sound only to be confronted with Stede pressing his arm into his own eyes as The Swede finishes stabbing him with an ink-covered needle. “Seriously?”
“Real pirates have ink, Oluwande.” Stede pushes himself up, tears still pooling in his eyes. To call what he has ink is a bit of a disgrace to the art of tattooing because it’s pretty small and forgettable, but the x has to mean something pretty significant if it’s on his chest like that.
He raises a brow, “I don’t have a single tattoo.”
“Right, right.” Stede finds interest in the wall across from them, pulling on his shirt. “Well, maybe I’m just in a good mood! There’s quite a bit to be excited ab—”
“Captain! You might wanna come see this!”
They make their way above deck, and Oluwande’s terrible morning seems to just continue freely, because they’re not supposed to be this close in sightlines to the Revenge , at least not for another couple of days. Hell, Stede’s not even dressed in one of the silly outfits he’d be fretting over again, just in something plain and depressing. But he looks pretty happy, gazing across the sea with his spyglass, and Oluwande’s feeling a little soft on his behalf, right up until a cannonball tears through the floor and continues through the rest of the ship. Water spurts up almost immediately, and they both sort of stare at each other in a daze before Button’s is making the call for them to abandon ship.
This is why he wanted to stay as far back as possible; it wasn’t like the Revenge was so small they’d miss it. But he can worry more about why this came about once they made it out of here with their lives and a bit of food if things with Ed continue to go poorly. Maybe they could maroon him for a change, seeing as he’s gotten them out of a ship twice now. For now, though, he’s commanding Roach and Black Pete to clear the kitchen, getting Wee John to leave behind some of his more useless crap, and telling Stede to go ahead with anyone unsure of their long-distance swimming capabilities because they’ve only got one dinghy and they can probably only make one, potentially two trips before the ship’s fully capsized. He thinks there’s a twinkle of pride in Stede’s eyes, watching him do this without losing his head, but mostly he’s just trying to ignore how sopping wet his socks are. If anyone else is aware of how loudly his shoes are squeaking, they’re too stressed to comment on it.
Eventually, but not quickly enough, they all end up safely on the shore. The sounds coming from the Revenge are not great, and continue to get worse the closer they get, but he’s choosing to ignore all that, settling the rest of the crew before they’re inevitably sharing an island with whoever comes off that ship. Ed appears and is immediately banished into Stede’s care, which is for the best because the minute they’re both out of earshot the crew goes back to finalizing the details of his re-integration on the ship. A couple of stabbings just isn’t good enough anymore, though they take a beat to be mostly happy about Stede’s mopey thing being effectively killed now.
And then—
“Hey, stranger.”
It’s not that Oluwande wasn’t in a rush to see Jim, it’s just that there were a lot of people to get in order once the Revenge finally crashed onto the beach. People needed to be cleaning up the deck, disposing of the bodies, and patching up the injuries that seemed endless. Since both of the captains were off settling their whole deal, that meant it became a job for the acting first mate, and most of them are too tired now to argue with him about it. But he does feel bad, seeing the uncertainty in Jim’s eyes. They’re an important person and he should’ve made the time to properly greet them.
But Jim still strolls up to him, after Oluwande’s given Frenchie a tight embrace before sending him back to the makeshift medic area. For someone covered in so much blood, he can’t spot a single visible injury. He notices the shorter hair, the loss of the hat, the band of recently retrieved daggers wrapped around their waist. He has about a billion questions, but supposes it’s alright to just start with, “Hey.”
“Got a minute?” They don’t look away from him, but they do shove their hands deep into their pockets. “I know I should probably clean up first, but I’m running on a lot of adrenaline right now and I’ve got a lot to say. So I’ll probably need more than a minute, actually, if that’s cool with you.”
Oluwande glances at the assortment of people behind him, a bit wary to leave them unguided. But they are all adults and most of them just spent like, an hour fighting. It should be a bit before anything new starts up between them. “Yeah, that’s fine by me. Lead the way.”
Jim must pick up on his wariness, because they don’t lead him too much further away, in sightlines of the crew at large. They both sit in the sand, and Oluwande tries not to think too hard on how nice the moon’s hitting Jim’s skin. Before he can stop himself he’s reaching out to clear some of the blood caked on his face, and it’s after he’s realized he’s mostly smudging it up that he notices Jim not having drawn a blade on him. They’re just staring at him, with an intensity that makes his hand sort of fall away awkwardly as Jim breaks into a laugh.
He laughs too, mostly out of embarrassment, and lets Jim’s hand come to rest on top of his. The laughter dies out, and they’re back to sitting in silence until he hears them say, “So. Couple of updates on the whole Jim thing.”
“I’m listening.”
They let out a sigh before continuing, “I’m okay with being referred to as they or he, but I’m not…well, I know I’m not a man, but I’m not the other thing either. So just being Jim is what we’re gonna keep going with unless I figure something else out.”
Oluwande nods, “So you want me to keep calling you Jim, then?”
“You can call me Jim, yeah. But you can also call me your partner, if you want. Boyfriend is pretty okay, too, I guess, but not all the time.” They say, and Oluwande feels his chest tighten. “Or if you want me to just be Jim, that’s fine. I’d just like to be on the same page about it sooner rather than later.”
“No, I—I want to be your partner, too. Your boyfriend, even.” Jim’s hand relaxes at that. “Like, I really want that. I had no reason to be scared you wouldn’t want that, but Black Pete can vouch for how in my head I was about it. And I’m glad you’re Jim. I see you as Jim, not anything else, and I like that person an awful lot even if you are a bit pigheaded at times. I wish it hadn’t taken so long for me to actually say that to your face, but it’s always been true.”
“Pigheaded?” Jim scoffs, “I’m more…determined. Driven, even.”
Oluwande rolls his eyes, “That’s what you’re taking away from this?”
“I don’t do so great with the nice stuff, you know that. But I hear you and I appreciate you saying it.” They’re holding back a smile now, continuing. “I like having you by my side.”
“I like being there.” He kisses them then, still holding hands. It’s slow and steady, unlike his heart, and it feels right. They eventually pull away, resting their foreheads against the other’s. “Man, I missed you.”
“Uh, same. Do you know how much shit you missed out on?” They say. “I almost—well, it’s a little on me, but the last 24 hours have just been insane all around.”
“Well, I’m all ears for it.” Oluwande says, and they lose track of time like every other couple on the beach, swapping stories about the months they’d spent apart.
He listens to them talk about the highs of it all, like the boardings and the bond they’d built on with Frenchie and Lucius (who he’d definitely have to check in on more in-depth). He listens to them talk about how they’d sharpened their skills, how they’ve made a certain peace with killing when necessary and just causing general bodily harm otherwise. He listens to them talk about getting one of final blows into Izzy, and how he’d attempted to terrorize all three of them the whole time to no avail.
He listens to Jim talk about the more difficult things, like their altercation with Blackbeard and the following one with Izzy. They talk about how the idleness fucked with their head, making them more cruel in place of their usually more restrained anger. They talk about the worst of their thoughts, the more self-destructive ones that have shown themselves as of recent. They talk about how Oluwande helps with it, which makes them both a bit embarrassed, but that leads to a more general conversation about what they want from each other, what they need for things to work best.
Then it’s Oluwande turn to share, to ramble on about how the crew had stolen the now sunken ship and it was one of the greater thrills in his life. He brings up having to wrangle Stede and the rest of them, but mostly Stede, and how Ed’s overdue for his own round of getting his ass kicked by the crew (though it’ll probably last much longer than their stint with Stede did, all things considered). He brings up some of the various shore leaves, like the one where he and Roach accidentally entered a drinking contest and managed to win, and one where The Swede and Buttons entangled themselves in a bird smuggling scheme only to release them in the end and still make out with the money.
He’s not quite sure when Jim nods off, head slumped against his shoulder. He presses a kiss to the top of their head, makes himself comfortable without jostling them too much, and lets himself relax.
Life is pain, but it’s nice to relax.