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The realisation came to him as he was holding Thomas in his arms. This was everything to him, everything he never dared dream, and yet. Grabbing Thomas tightly in his arms, he was overcome by a sudden sorrow. For everything he had lost, everything he had gained. The one he had lost, the one he had gained. Suddenly it was there at the back of his head, placed next to the emotions of this moment.
And he cried.
He cried.
They managed to find a quiet moment for themselves, away from watching eyes. At first, Flint did not want to let go of Thomas. Afraid he would disappear the moment they separated. That even a sliver of space between them would take him away again. But eventually the tears dried. Eventually they were able to look into each other’s eyes.
Eyes say a lot. Eyes do not lie. There was so much history to catch up on, but for now they took each other in and breathed. Together.
Thomas did not believe in ghosts. And yet. There was a ghost in his arms. But who was he kidding – he himself was a ghost. Ten years was a long time. Ten years, outside of society, there and not there. But now, holding James in his arms, he started to understand the world outside moved on. There were ghosts there as well as here.
And once James started talking, once he heard stories about what had happened to his love, he felt like sometimes… there was a figure behind James. Squinting against the sun, he could almost make it out. Someone was not ready to let James go, and Thomas may not understand how or why, but he understood that they followed James here. All he had to do was look in James eyes, it was there to see for anyone who cared to look. And Thomas took it all in now that he had the chance.
“What was his name?”
“Silver. John Silver. Which was a lie as much as it was true.”
It was Thomas who suggested it first. Flint – James – had been on the plantation for four months. He had lost track of the days they spend working. He had not been away from the sea for such a long time in ten years. Some nights he woke up feeling the ground shift, only to find steady earth once he got out of bed. Thomas always noticed when he could not help but stumble.
They spend every moment together. Ten years was a long time, but it felt like no time had passed between them. Despite all he had done, all that had happened. Thomas accepted it all. More so, he was curious, engaged with his stories in a way James had not dared hope for. And one day the question.
“Where do we go? Where do you want to go?”
And he could lie about it to himself, he could avoid telling Thomas, but there was no denying that the first image this question conjured was a hill with two swords embedded in the sandy ground.
Thomas could swear he saw a figure take a step forward from behind Flint. He knew enough by now to recognise the one-legged man, featureless shadow that he was.
Less than a year after Flint was unmade, he returned to the place he thought he would never see again. To the person he thought he would never see again. He had contacted Madi ahead of time. If anyone shared the pain of what had happened in equal amounts to him, it was her. When Silver was taken from them both, they developed an understanding that carried them through to the end. It would have carried them all the way to Nassau, James is sure of it.
Despite what happened, Madi looks stronger than ever. There is a sorrow in her eyes that makes it hard for Flint to look at her too long, but there is also a determination to keep going that resonates with him. She always was the strongest out of all of them. The way she now confidently leads her people confirms what was clear from the beginning.
Thomas had heard of Madi, of the maroons. And yet, the conviction Madi shows to her people, to their cause, takes him by surprise. Watching her with James gives him the first idea of what his love was part of. What it all could have been. What it still might be. Someday. He quietly watches the way James admires Madi and comes to his own conclusions.
Madi does not need to tell him where to find Silver. He has known all this time where this path would lead. As he climbs up the hill, he feels both terrified and excited for what this may bring. He is glad to know the support of Thomas and Madi, who both stayed behind in the village. He climbs up the side of the hill and half expects to see two swords in the ground. They are not there, but Silver is. Standing in the same spot they trained not too long ago, though it feels like centuries have passed. He is looking out to the sea, but Flint can see his shoulders tense and how he holds his breath at his approach, not turning around.
Silver. John Silver. Long John Silver. Solomon Little. He repeats the names in his head like a mantra. The names Flint knows him as. Again, and again. Holding onto the identity he gave away when he sent Flint to Thomas. Away from the war he never wanted. He feels adrift. He stays here because he has nowhere to go. There is no way he will give up Madi. But a year is not enough to heal the pain he caused her, not all of it. So, he stays, and he waits. She has not sent him away and that is all he holds onto.
Sometimes he almost feels like he can feel a presence like a shadow. Just out of the corner of his eyes, there seems to be a figure not ready to let him go. He surely imagines it, but it is there all the same.
He goes to the hill almost every day. He looks out towards Nassau. Not sure if it is regret or relief that he feels. And when he hears familiar steps approaching from behind, he holds his breath. Afraid the shadow has finally decided to step into the light.
But it is no shadow that comes to stand beside him. The figure is breathing hard from the climb, sweating from the sun, and more beautiful than he remembers.
He assumed he had made Flint into more than he was, glorifying his memories of their time together, but now it is clear that the memory became diminished compared to the actual person. He can feel Flint stand next to him, but he can’t make himself look. Together, they look out to the sea as if no time has passed. After a long moment, a hand comes to rest lightly on his shoulder, so reminiscent of a past memory of pain and loss, it feels real. And Silver. Silver reaches for the hand and starts crying.
They hug, grasping for each other, the way they had never allowed themselves. It is unclear who reaches first, who holds on tighter, because they both do. They hold each other and it is clear neither wants to let go. James takes Silver’s face in his hands, wiping thumbs through tears streaming down his cheeks. He kisses Silver’s head and leans in to touch their foreheads together. They breath, together.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
They leave the hill together. But they don’t leave the hill behind. James and Thomas stay on the island. With John. With Madi, too. Thomas never sees the shadow behind Flint’s back again. There is a someday between them all. A shadow between them.