Work Text:
Jim had, once more, stolen away from the chaos of the crew in secret. They didn’t intend to make a habit of it, yet there they were, in their captain’s quarters, grimacing as they stood to the side and glanced into a gaudy, gold-plated mirror. There was something wrong in their reflection, Jim could tell as they smoothed down their linen shirt again and again.
The bandages they used to wrap around their chest, they thought, maybe weren’t the worst idea they’d ever had while living undercover on the ship. Sure, they’d hurt like hell and leave their skin raw and red when they unwound them every so often. But Jim never felt this way when there was that protective layer sealing them off from their true shape. It wasn’t that something was missing, however. It was that there was something that should be missing.
A scowl crept upon Jim’s face as they bunched up their shirt in one hand behind their back, examining their figure cloaked in the taught, thin fabric.
Almost out of impulse, Jim reached their right hand out. Of course, all they found was an assortment of perfumes that nearly nauseated them with their artificial, overpowering fragrance. In relation to their beside, however, that was where they usually kept that dirty, distended roll of thick bandages that they’d nicked from a marketplace years ago, always in reach in case of emergency. It had become reflex for Jim, in the rare moments they let themself truly breathe during their undercover days, to grab at the bandages whenever they heard footsteps approaching their quarters, shoving them all hastily into a pocket of their coat. While they couldn’t fully conceal what was there, the illusion was at least kept up. Of course, Jim’s garments hadn’t left much of themself exposed anyways, and they did forgo the bandages entirely up top with the crew on several occasions, whether due to forgetness or due to the terrible pain in their ribs that would ebb and flow every so often when they’d not been allowing themself enough moments away from the constant action among the crew. To their incredible relief, none of those instances led to Jim being caught.
However, it was during those moments with their crew that Jim’s chest ached in an entirely different way.
C’mon, Jim! We’re gonna moonbathe with Buttons , Black Pete had tried to urge them once or twice during full moons, having already discarded all of his clothes.
Jim, of course, feigned complete indifference, maybe even a cough if they felt confident enough. But it was nothing unfamiliar when every now and then they’d feel a pang of envy shoot through them at the sight of one of their fellow crew throwing all caution to the wind. It was unfair that they could enjoy their freedom, and Jim couldn’t.
“Ah, crickets! Where did that comb get to?” Stede’s voice ringing brightly throughout his own quarters startled Jim out of their reverie with a gasp. There was no way to escape without Stede spotting them, so they picked the next best option and clambered into the copper bathtub against the starboard wall, pulling their hat down over their face for good measure.
Stede’s footsteps grew closer as Jim decided their fate was sealed. With a sigh, they sank further down into the tub. As Stede entered the cabin’s head, Jim felt it necessary for whatever reason to hold their breath.
“Well, there it is, of course! You odd little bugger!” Jim couldn’t tell if Stede was scolding the comb or himself, and frankly, they weren’t sure if they wanted to know.
There was a stark moment of silence, aside from a puzzled sound from Stede. “Jim, my good fellow? What’re you doing in the bathtub?”
Jim said nothing, hoping Stede would accept that as an answer and leave them alone. However, this was Stede, so they knew that wasn’t happening.
“Uh, just came in here to… take a bath.”
“Well, that’s odd! You’ve still got your clothes on! And where’s the water?”
Jim sighed, making no effort to show their face from underneath their hat.
“That’s alright, old chap. Do you want to talk about it?” Stede sat down by the edge of the tub.
Jim lifted the brim of their hat just enough to stare at Stede. “No.”
Stede shrugged. “Well, that’s alright! But I—and the rest of your crew—care about you, and therefore, you know, encourage talking it through…”
“As a crew,” Jim said monotonously, finally sitting up and adjusting their hat, folding their arms across their chest.
This elicited a small cheer from Stede, just overjoyed that Jim was finally getting the spirit of his people-positive management style.
“So! Are you quite ready to talk about it, or…”
Jim contemplated for a moment. Stede, and the rest of the crew, had been nothing short of accepting of Jim ever since they’d grown into themself, minus a few bumps in the road here and there. “Yeah, I think I am,” they said.
Stede raised his eyebrows, as if to say, go on, then!
“I guess I just feel… like I’m in the wrong body. I know I’ve brought that up before, but I’ve been feeling it a lot lately.”
Stede nodded. “I’m sorry you’re feeling that way. Is there anything we can do to help with that?”
Jim snorted. “Not unless anyone on the crew would be eager to chop off my tits.”
They chuckled for a few more seconds at their crude admittance, before glancing up at Stede. “Oh. No, no, no…” Jim tried to backtrack as they noticed the excited glint in Stede’s eyes. “I wasn’t actually being serious…”
Stede gave Jim a practiced, pointed look that they just knew Lucius taught him to make him even more insufferable. “Well, if you change your mind,” Stede said, too plainly for Jim’s liking, “I reckon we could probably arrange that.”
Jim laughed again, this time albeit sounding a little more uneasy. They didn’t laugh around Stede all that often, but it felt natural, here below deck, talking about horrendous hypothetical surgical procedures.
“And hey, if it’s any consolation, my chest isn’t exactly flat, either,” Stede said, opening his coat and gesturing at himself.
Jim was about to protest about how that was different, but Stede kept going on. “It’s perfectly natural, really! It’s a sign that you’re healthy!”
Off of Jim’s glare, Stede cleared his throat and changed the subject. “But, ah, of course, if that’s what you want, I think we can arrange that… somewhat safely.”
Stede winked, making Jim chuckle. “Yeah, sure,” they said.
With a hearty pat on Jim’s arm, Stede got to his feet and set about rejoining the crew. “Wait a sec, let me help you out…” He turned around, holding out his hand. Jim took it, standing up and climbing out of the tub.
“There we are! I suppose Roach must’ve finished dinner by now,” Stede grinned.
Jim readjusted their hat and followed Stede out, not paying any mind to their reflection as they passed by the mirrors in Stede’s quarters.
That night, laying on the straw mattress, one arm slung over Oluwande, Jim felt that odd pang in their chest again. Inadvertently, their fist clenched and Olu took notice of how tense they were. “You alright, love?”
Jim paused. They weren’t aware that they’d been doing… Well, whatever they were doing. “Yeah,” they mumbled, moving their arm so it was no longer touching Oluwande.
Oluwande turned over, his eyes scanning over Jim’s face trying to figure out what the problem was. Jim fidgeted uncomfortably, thrashing around slightly trying to get comfortable. The collar of their nightshirt stretched as they shifted around, and it was then that Oluwande spotted a possible source of Jim’s discomfort.
“Jim, darling. You shouldn’t be sleeping with your chest all wrapped up.”
Jim froze, staring into Oluwande’s soft eyes. They quickly yanked at their collar so that the bandages across their sternum were no longer visible.
“You haven’t slept in ‘em in a long while,” Olu said, trying to get to the root of the real problem. It seemed that the bandages were just the surface. “Did you forget? It’s alright to forget.”
Jim shook their head. “No, I didn’t forget.”
Oluwande only grew more confused. “Do you wanna take them off?”
“No. It’ll be fine.”
“Jim…”
The embarrassed blush upon Jim’s face was visible even in the low light, even though Olu tried his best not to notice it. He hated seeing Jim upset, and it was even worse when they closed themself off and refused to discuss it. As much as Stede’s healthy coping tactics seemed ridiculous to a crew of misfit pirates, Oluwande knew they were useful all the same.
“It’s just—I hate how I look… not… flat. I don’t look like me .”
Oluwande nodded in understanding. Tears pricked at the corners of Jim’s eyes, which they wiped away before they even had the chance to fall.
“Hey, mate, it’s alright,” Oluwande tried to placate Jim as they laid on their back with their arms crossed, blinking up at the creaking rafters.
Jim pulled their face into a grimace, still fighting tears.
“Tell you what,” Oluwande said softly, “How about this: you take off the bandages, just for tonight, so that you don’t hurt yourself. I won’t look. I’ll even go somewhere else if you want.”
“No, please stay,” Jim blurted out, sitting up quickly and reaching for Olu’s hand.
Oluwande was a bit shocked by Jim’s uncharacteristically knee-jerk reaction to being left alone. “I’m not going anywhere you don’t want me to.”
Jim nodded, chewing on their bottom lip. They reached for the buttons on their shirt and Oluwande turned around, giving Jim their privacy as they unwound the bandages constricting their ribcage.
“Alright, I’m good,” Jim said, laying back down.
Oluwande laid down right next to them, reaching out and stroking their hair. Jim leaned into the touch, smiling and making Olu smile in return.
Jim let out a sleepy sigh, nestling further into Oluwande’s side. “Goodnight, cariño.”
“Goodnight, mate. I’m proud of you, you know that?”
Jim just nodded, letting their eyes fall closed in the safety of their lover’s arms.
The sun hadn’t yet risen when Jim woke up in a panic, clutching at their chest and breathing heavily.
“Not me… that’s not me…” they muttered, dazed as they realized their surroundings.
Oluwande stirred next to them. “Jim?”
“I’m fine,” they choked out, trying to take deep breaths to calm themself.
On the table beside the bed, Oluwande found the matchsticks and lit one, letting the flame illuminate the lamp in the room so that he could better see what was going on.
Jim sat with their back against the wall, their hair sticking to their face and their pupils wide.
“I’m not… that isn’t my name,” they stammered, shaking their head.
Oluwande reached over and brushed some of the hair out of Jim’s face.
Jim groaned, burying their head in their arms. “I keep doing this,” their words came out muffled and flat.
“Keep doing what?”
“Having nightmares. It’s just frustrating, man.”
Oluwande’s brow creased in sympathy, noticing Jim’s irregular breathing. They’d always been prone to nightmares, and that’d never been a problem for Olu, he loved being with Jim regardless, but lately it had been getting worse. They never used to wake up muttering things that made little to no sense, and they never got as panicked before.
“Same one as last time?” Oluwande asked, rubbing Jim’s arm soothingly.
Jim nodded. “I never wanna hear that name again.”
They yawned, staring out into the distance with beady, tired eyes.
“Let’s try and go back to sleep, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jim said, running a hand through their messy hair. “Can I hold you? It makes me feel… safe.”
Oluwande felt his cheeks grow warm. He didn’t ever blush easily, that was, until Jim came along. “Of course.”
The two fell back asleep practically intertwined with one another, Jim’s arm resting on Oluwande’s stomach.
The sun streaming in through the window made waking up for the second time less unbearable.
“God, I’m starving,” Jim grumbled, practically climbing over Oluwande to get out of bed, tugging their coat on and making sure their hat was just right before heading out the door.
Climbing up onto the main deck, Jim was thankful that the wide brim of their hat provided some protection from the shining sun.
“What’s on the menu, Roach?” Jim patted Roach on the back, startling him accidentally.
“Christ! Don’t sneak up on the guy holdin’ a cleaver, mate!” As if to demonstrate, Roach began waving around the knife in his hand.
Jim took a good few steps back, holding out their hands. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just, ah…”
“This about what Stede was talking about earlier?”
Jim raised an eyebrow. “Uh…”
Roach looked at Jim, his stare wide and unbreakable in a way that made Jim want to leave. “He said you wanted an amputation? No worries, no worries, you came to the right place.”
Roach raised the meat cleaver in his hand, and Jim suddenly remembered the conversation they’d had with Stede the previous day. “I am going to kill that bastard,” they grumbled, watching as Roach’s eager grin fell.
“So no amputation? I will be here all day,” Roach offered. “Or… can I interest you in some marmalade?”
Jim sighed, one hand lingering on the brim of their hat. “You’re a treasure, Roach,” they said, slipping past him and into the galley.
“No problem! Enjoy the marmalade!”
Jim grabbed the slice of hard, old bread that they’d slathered with a hearty amount of orange spread and went back to their quarters, sitting cross-legged on the bed. They knew eating below deck would attract all sorts of vermin, allegedly, but every time they tried to relax up on deck they’d catch Roach staring at them, still holding the cleaver. As long as they were careful about crumbs, it’d be alright.
As they finished their breakfast and reached for their coat, Jim felt a shadow cast upon them. Oluwande had stepped into the room, supposedly not noticing Jim. They were about to reach out and tap him to get his attention, but stopped short midway. Oluwande must’ve come in to get dressed, as he was shucking off his nightshirt and reaching for his white tunic squared away in a drawer across the room.
In only a pair of breeches, Jim now had a rather full view of Oluwande’s strong back, and, moments after he turned and locked eyes with Jim, his broad chest.
Just like Stede said, it wasn’t flat, but it matched the rest of him. Jim wanted that for themself more than they could possibly put into words.
Noticing the shock on Jim’s face, Oluwande backed up, buttoning up his shirt. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were in here, I—”
Jim scrambled off of the mattresses and out of the room before Oluwande could finish. Without their hat to protect them as they resurfaced onto the deck, they shielded their eyes with their hand until they found Roach, sharpening the same goddamn knife he’d been gesticulating with earlier.
“Listen up, you crazy son of a bitch,” Jim said, stooping down to where Roach sat upon a barrel, getting too close to his face for comfort. “I’ll let you do it, but if you fuck it up, I am throwing you overboard and there is nothing either of your captains can do about it. ¿Entendido? ”
Roach nodded, shying away from Jim’s intenseness.
“Alright, you just get everything ready. I’m gonna go get blackout drunk.”
Roach could do nothing more but give Jim an uneasy thumbs-up as they meandered around the deck, trying to figure out whose rum supply would be best to raid. He clicked his tongue in disapproval as he watched Jim head in the direction of Izzy’s quarters.
Various bottles, some labeled, some not, clinked as Jim sifted through them, popping the corks with their teeth. Izzy had never really done anything to them personally, but they felt no remorse ransacking his liquor—which, for justification, was more plentiful than expected.
A few generous slugs into what might have been the fourth or fifth flask of some type of rum or whiskey that burned Jim’s throat something awful, their vision started to swim. They’d drunk more than that before, but never so fast. It was a battle just to not pass out on the floor of Izzy’s little room, surrounded by empty bottles. Jim coughed as they staggered away from the poorly hidden drawer stashed full of alcohol, pocketing a few extra flasks for good measure. They’d likely be needing those later.
Jim could barely walk upright, grabbing onto railings and masts, giddy all of a sudden at the prospect of finally getting a second chance at life. The pain and looming fear that it could all go wrong seemed entirely irrelevant as Jim felt a pair of arms steady them by the shoulders.
“Jim, mate, you alright? Want to talk about it?” Stede’s voice was high with concern.
Jim grinned. Stede could smell the heavy amounts of alcohol on them. “I’m gonna do it,” they said, adjusting their coat, a clinking cacophony of glass bottles coming from within their pockets. “What you suggested.”
Stede’s face fell in momentary surprise. “Oh. Oh, well that’s jolly good! Is Roach performing the operation? I would love to help!”
Jim squinted at Stede, trying to process his words one by one through the euphoric cloud in their head. “Yeah, Roach is doing it… I’m throwing him overboard if he fucks it up.”
“Well! Good thing I can sort of cook, then! Let me accompany you,” Stede linked his elbow with Jim’s tugging them along to the galley.
Stepping into the low light, Jim relaxed a bit as Stede took in the surroundings. The dining table had been covered up with patchworked fabric, a straw-filled pillow stolen from someone’s sleeping quarters laid down at one end.
“Welcome back,” Roach said, tying his apron.
“Hello!” Stede waved at Roach, his other hand still on Jim’s shoulder to keep them from listing.
On the count of three, Stede lifted Jim onto the table, taking their hat and coat and setting it in the corner.
“You still want to do this, yeah?”
Jim blinked up at Stede. “Absolutely.”
“Alright, mate, I’m obviously gonna have to touch you and all that, is that still good?”
“Yeah,” Jim said firmly, swaying in place as they sat on the table, leaning back on their elbows.
Roach nodded. “Perfect. Can you hand me that bottle, Captain?”
Stede looked behind him to the shelf that Roach pointed at. A glass bottle of something dark stood out, and he grabbed it, handing it over.
“What’s that for?”
“This,” Roach held up the bottle, letting the sunlight permeate through the liquid inside. “Is the strongest alcohol we have on this ship. It’ll knock Jim here out for… ah… four hours? They won’t feel a thing.”
Stede’s eyes widened, watching as Roach swished the bottle around a few times for good measure before uncorking it. He held the lip of the bottle to Jim’s lips, coaxing them gently to drink. Jim grimaced as the alcohol stung their throat, mixing with the rest of the liquor in their system.
“There we go… that’ll be plenty.” Roach set the bottle down in favor of preparing his tools. On the counter before him lay a knife, a smaller knife, and a much larger knife.
By the time he’d turned around, Stede was helping Jim lay down, cradling their head so that they didn’t hit it on the table as their world started going black.
“Let’s get to work, shall we?” Roach rubbed his hands together, surveying the gallery of knives before him. He selected the medium-sized one to start, wiping it down with a rag to clean it off.
Carefully peeling back Jim’s clothes, Roach positioned the tip of the knife where he needed to cut. Stede drew in a shaky breath as Roach made the first incision, going straight across below one of Jim’s breasts. Blood welled up under the knife, and as soon as the metallic tinge in the air hit Stede, he grew very pale.
Roach looked up, pausing for a second to grab the needle and thread from Stede. “You alright, Captain?”
Stede nodded, swallowing thickly. He handed over the supplies and watched as Roach threaded the needle through Jim’s skin, closing up the wound. As Roach switched sides of the table, cleaning off the knives again, Stede made the mistake of focusing on the gnarly, bloody stitches for too long, and barely had time to let out a soft sigh before he fainted.
“Shouldn’t have let him watch,” Roach mumbled to himself, getting to work on the other side of Jim’s chest.
When Stede came to a few minutes later, Roach was nearly finished, pulling the final stitches tight to make sure the incision healed properly. After Lucius’ finger had to be amputated, Roach was unanimously declared the surgeon of the ship, and as a result, was briefed on all sorts of medical procedures that Stede owned books on. His favorite medicine thus far turned out to be leeches, but Roach did enjoy a fair bit of surgery as well.
Roach held out his hand, helping Stede off of the ground. “I’m almost done,” Roach explained, stepping between Stede and Jim to prevent another dizzy spell from occurring. “Just need to bandage them up, and they’ll be all good.”
Stede nodded, not caring to stay around any longer than was necessary. “I’ll come back to check on them in a bit,” was all he said as he left the galley, still looking rather faint.
Using mostly repurposed bits of prototype flags, Roach made sure the scars were covered and that the blood didn’t completely soak through the material.
Roach had only momentarily stepped back to take a rest and admire his handiwork when Jim’s eyelids fluttered open. Before he could greet them, or even congratulate them, they groaned in pain. Not only were they waking up minutes after a major surgery, they were absolutely drunk as a skunk.
“Ow, fuck,” Jim said slowly. Their hands brushed lightly over their chest and they decided to try to sit up.
“Hold on, don’t try to move,” Roach laid Jim back down flat as they winced in pain.
“Am I good now? No more… those guys?” Jim gestured loosely at the mass of disappointingly familiar bandages in their periphery.
“Good as new. All you have to do now is heal.”
Jim couldn’t care less about a long recovery period. Life is pain , their nana said to them many years ago.
“Man,” Jim’s voice was suddenly watery and light. “This is so fuckin’ cool.”
“Agreed,” Roach said, putting away the last of his kitchen knives.
While Jim got some more proper rest, word of their surgery spread quickly amongst the crew.
“Excuse me,” Oluwande murmured as he pushed his way through the gaggle of pirates near the helm of the ship, blocking the entrance to Stede’s quarters.
Oluwande’s thoughts were disorganized, wading through the sea of people and then through the sea of cherry wood furniture and low-hanging beaded chandeliers. The last he’d seen of Jim, they were red-faced and flustered, and now they were laid up in Stede’s soft bed, a weak smile upon their face.
“Hey,” Jim said before Oluwande could gather the words to say anything to them. “Sorry I didn’t tell you.”
Oluwande sighed. “You don’t have to tell me anything, you can make your own choices. I’m just—” he blinked away the tears forming in his eyes— “I’m really proud of you. I’m so fucking happy for you, Jim.”
Jim beamed, hazy and bleary.
A tear fell from Oluwande’s face. “There’s that handsome smile.”
“I just can’t wait to get these off,” Jim grumbled, tugging at the bandages around their chest.
Oluwande nodded, knowing how much Jim wanted to get rid of that reminder of their past. “It won’t be long. You heal pretty quickly.”
Jim, exhausted and a little out of it from all of the alcohol, just reached out for Oluwande until he realized what they wanted. He intertwined his fingers with theirs, giving a soft squeeze. “Rest up, alright?”
Oluwande looked down to see that Jim had already drifted to sleep, still holding onto his hand.
The following weeks were filled with equal parts pain and joy. Recovery hurts , Jim discovered, as they tried doing the most basic of things and each time ended up back in bed, wishing they could have some more rum to dull the pain. It wasn’t all bad, though. Their crew was eager to take care of them, and Jim had never before felt so strongly that they were part of a family.
After about three weeks, when Stede came in to help Jim change their bandages, he brought with him a gold-plated mirror as well. “Now, before we get those scars covered up again, I just thought you might like to see the progress?”
Jim wanted nothing more, but at the same time, they felt a pang of anxiety go through them at the thought.
As Stede began unraveling the tatters of makeshift bandages, all scraps of different colors and textures of fabric by this point, Jim tried to calm down, tried to focus on one thing in the distance until their heart finally stopped racing.
“I like that painting,” they said absently as Stede handed them the mirror.
Stede followed Jim’s line of sight. “Ah,” he sighed. “I’ve had that one for a… a while, now, haven’t I?”
The bright colors of the lighthouse scene had faded somewhat, but aside from that, it hadn’t changed a bit since the night Mary had given it to Stede as an anniversary gift.
“I suppose it’s a… reminder of my past?”
Jim met Stede’s eyes, full of reminiscence of something Jim was clueless about. “Anyways,” Stede said, clearing his throat. “Have a look.”
The mirror swayed slightly in Jim’s shaking hands. They looked into it, positioned it just right, and their breath caught in their throat.
Two scars ran across their chest, still fairly gnarly but definitely healthy-looking. Slowly, apprehensively, Jim held the mirror to one side, turning their head to look. The flat line of their chest, perfectly aligned with their shoulders and hips, almost startled them at first. They ran a hand gently from their collarbone to their stomach.
“Do you like it?” Stede asked, watching Jim stare into the mirror with wide eyes.
Jim wanted to say yes, wanted to scream it, but a sob came out instead. They smiled so widely that their eyes squeezed shut as tears streamed down their face.
“Oh, Jim…”
“I love it,” they managed to say between sobs, hiding their face.
It was a touch heartbreaking for Jim to have to cover their chest back up again, but Stede reassured them that it would be good in the long run when their scars healed correctly.
Miraculously, as it was when pertaining to these sorts of common-sense things aboard The Revenge, Stede was right.
By the light of the one lamp in their quarters, Oluwande took his sweet time admiring his partner. Jim loved showing off their new scars, instilled with a confidence they’d never quite possessed before. Their shirt hung loosely from their shoulders, the front completely unbuttoned.
“What’d I say? You do heal fast.”
Jim chuckled, resting their chin on Oluwande’s shoulder.
“You know, tonight’s a full moon, and, uh… Buttons wanted me to ask you if you wanted to come swimming with us. It’s totally fine if you aren’t comfortab—”
Jim cut Oluwande off with a soft kiss. “I would love to,” they said, still mere inches away from Oluwande’s face.
“Well, then, what’re we waiting for?”
Oluwande and Jim, hand in hand, made their way up to the deck. The moonlight glimmered on the calm ocean; cheering and laughter could be heard from down by the hull of the boat as well as on the deck.
“I think most of them have already gotten into the water,” Oluwande said, shucking off his jacket.
Jim took their time undressing, taking their arms out of their shirtsleeves one at a time. They watched as Oluwande climbed up onto the railing and jumped off into the water below.
Then they were alone on the deck. Looking around to confirm it, Jim glanced up at the moon, and , with no hesitation, put their arms out and basked in it for just a second, feeling the cool night air upon their bare chest. If they could bottle the feeling and subsist off of it and it alone, they would. Still gazing up at the giant bright moon, Jim came right up to the wooden railing, and, with a deep breath, dove into the cold water below.