Work Text:
Rain poured over the city of Boston, accompanied by rolling thunder, but in a little home just on the outskirts of the city, Cassandra Morgan held her one year old son in her arms. Nathan was her second son and she loved him just as much as Sam, who had just turned six.
“Shh, it’s just a little rain, Nate,” she whispered as Nate began to cry from the loud thunder.
Sam was sitting on the sofa in his matching Sesame Street pyjamas as he listened to Cassandra sing to Nathan.
“Dream a little dream of me…” She softly sang.
It was a song he often heard her sing, and as he hugged his teddy bear with an eyepatch, he felt his eyes get heavy as her voice lulled him to sleep.
Cassandra carried Nate over to where Sam was and wrapped her other arm around him as she continued to sing slowly.
“Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you, sweet dreams that leave all worries far behind you…” she brushed the hair off Nate’s forehead. “But in your dreams, whatever they be, dream a little dream of me…”
As both boys fell asleep on the sofa, she covered them with a blanket and stood by the window, watching the rain fall. Just a few days ago, the doctor had told her what was wrong, telling her they didn’t know how long she had left. Only her husband, Frank, knew, but instead of comforting her, he drowned his emotions in alcohol again. Cassandra tried to hold back tears as she glanced back at her sons. How was she supposed to tell them?
Present Day
Massachusetts Welcomes You
Sam scoffed at the sign as he drove past it. Sure it does, he thought as he looked up at the grey clouds above and the brown leaves covering the trees. He suddenly missed the warmth of the California weather, wishing he was back in Los Angeles instead. He’d been driving for days, dreading going back to the city he grew up in, but now that he was finally within the state, he didn’t feel any different. Maybe it was because he wasn’t in Boston yet.
He couldn’t remember the last time he saw that particular sign. Was it before Panama that he’d come back here? Sam was lost in thought as he continued to drive, eventually he saw the sign he had been dreading to see: Entering Boston, Est. 1630.
The streets were just as Sam remembered it, but some of the stores were different. Not that he cared, he’d convinced himself long ago he had no attachment to them.
He stopped by a flower shop to buy a bouquet of different shades of purple. It was akin to a bride’s bouquet, with lilacs and wisterias, but the flowers were for no bride.
It had begun to drizzle as Sam parked his motorcycle at the cemetery. With a black umbrella in one hand and the bouquet in the other, he walked to an all familiar spot on a small hill by an oak tree whose leaves have all turned orange.
Sam kicked away the leaves in front of the headstone and he kneeled in front of it as he placed the bouquet in front of it.
“Happy birthday, Mom,” he said softly as he looked up at the headstone. “I’m sorry I couldn’t visit for so long.”
Cassandra Morgan
November 14, 1947
June 25, 1982
Beloved mother, wife, and daughter.
He fished out a doubloon from his pocket, one that he got from Henry Avery’s piles of treasures.
“Remember Avery?” He smiled as he held it up, tossing it in the air and flipping it around his fingers. “We did it, Mom, Nathan and I. We found Libertalia and the treasure.”
Sam sighed as he fully sat down, ignoring the wet ground under him. For a second, he wondered if he was just talking to himself or if he really believed that there was a heaven and that Cassandra was listening to him.
“I think I did something wrong, Mom, but I’ll save it for confession. It’s what they taught us in that school Dad dumped us in.”
He sat there for a while, telling her about the Libertalia adventure then just taking in the scenery. It was cold, but it wasn’t cold enough to bother Sam, and he began to think about all the adventures Nathan had had and all the adventures he knew he was about to have.
“I wish you coulda been there,” he said. “You were right about it all; Libertalia and Sir Francis Drake. You would’ve loved it.”
A giggle from a child caught his attention and he looked on as a father and son walked by outside the cemetery.
“You think Mommy would like the card I made her?” The little boy asked his dad.
“Of course she will,” the dad replied. “Just keep it in your bag so it doesn’t get wet in the rain.”
“Okay.”
“Well,” he sat up and brushed off the dirt from his jeans. “I gotta motor. I’ll be back next year. I promise, Mom. Happy birthday.”
He stopped by the church next to the cemetery, finding it empty except for an old woman kneeling in prayer. As he passed her to go to the confessional booth, he recognised her, but couldn’t quite remember who it was. It’ll come to me later, he thought as he entered the booth.
This wasn’t usually something Sam did. Hell, the last time he did a confession was when he was 16, but something compelled him to do another one. Maybe it was just the nostalgia of it all.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned…” He muttered after crossing himself. “It’s been about 30 years since my last confession.”
“That’s quite a long time,” he heard a voice behind the screen, relieved he wasn’t talking to himself again.
“Well, this isn’t really my kinda thing,” Sam took a deep breath. “Anyways, I lied to my brother. I mean, I’ve done a lot of sins, but I lied to him for such a long time."
“Have you asked for forgiveness?”
“Yeah. He says he’s forgiven me and we’re good, but it’s been eating me up. Weird because it’s not the first lie I’ve told.”
“You care about your brother a lot, then.”
“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “He’s my only family left.”
He looked up at the screen. No response this time.
“Anyways,” he continued. “I’m sorry for these and all my sins.”
“Always remember that God loves you,” the priest said then.
Sam simply nodded, trying not to roll his eyes. It was something he’s heard a billion times.
“Will you make an Act of Contrition, child?”
It was one of the prayers Sam was surprised he still had memorised as he recited it out loud. For a second, he felt like an orphan schoolboy again.
“I absolve you from your sins. May the father of all mercies cleanse us from our sins and restore us in his image. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” the priest changed.
“Amen.”
Sam felt a bit lighter after he left the booth, not because he felt his soul was saved, but he was glad he got to say how he felt out loud. As he got to his motorcycle, he noticed he had received a few messages from Nathan on his phone while he was busy.
“Yeah?” He said as his brother picked the phone up.
“Where have you been? Did you get there?” Nathan asked.
“Yeah, I just left the church. Why?”
“Ah, nothing. Just wish I could’ve been there, I just couldn’t leave Elena.”
“Ah, don’t worry,” Sam shrugged as he wiped down the seat of his motorcycle which was wet from the drizzle. “Mom’s doing fine.”
Nathan chuckled. “That’s good to know. Did you get her the…”
“Lilacs and wisterias? How could I forget? How’s Elena?”
“Oh, we just found out the sex of the baby earlier.”
“And?”
“It’s a girl,” Nathan sounded happy.
“Kinda symbolic you found out on Mom’s birthday, huh?”
“Yeah…” Nathan’s voice drifted as though he were in thought.
“Thanks for telling me, little brother,” Sam looked up as a raindrop fell on his cheek. “Listen, I gotta go. Call me if anything comes up.”
“Right, I forgot, Chloe said it’s a go on the India job with you and that she’ll email you the stuff.”
“Got it,” Sam smiled. “Talk to you soon, Nathan.”
“Bye, Sam.”
Sam felt high on the possibility of going on another adventure as he drove through the rain. Boston suddenly felt like a new city to him, now that there was hope that he could do even more in life. He wasn’t the scrappy little orphan on the street anymore, he was now a free man with the world at his fingertips. He knew Cassandra would be proud of her sons.