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"What's the first thing you're gonna do?" Frenchie asked. "When we get out of here?"
Jim kept absentmindedly poking the floor with their knife in shallow jabs. "Find Olu. If he hasn't found us first."
"I just worry," said Lucius, quietly.
He always spoke quietly. Blackbeard still didn't know about him. He and Izzy were just about the only ones who didn't; even Fang and Ivan were helping to keep him fed and hidden.
Lucius continued, "Like, who knows when or how they'll ever come for us?"
Frenchie said, "Yeah, I mean, for all we know, they could all be…" He trailed off. It was a sentence he didn't need nor want to finish.
"I know," Jim said, "but even if he is, I want to know it. I don't want to just be left wondering forever."
Jim picked at the black leather of their hot, uncomfortable waistcoat. Although they knew the circumstances of it were less than ideal, Jim and Frenchie couldn't help but be a bit envious of Lucius's lack of adherence to the official Blackbeard-approved uniform.
They'd been on board the Revenge under its new management for around a month now, and hardly a day went by when they didn't all sit in a circle on the floor of the former jam room and chat about everything and nothing.
It was only recently, though, that the trio had broached the subject of their confinement. Lucius had been eager to talk about it—as he had every right to be—but Frenchie and Jim had spent a few weeks pretending that confinement wasn't what their situation was.
And, building off of that, they also talked about what they'd do when they could someday escape this godforsaken gloomy little ship.
Frenchie said, "How about you, Lucius? Gonna look for Pete, I assume?"
"Yeah, of course," said Lucius. "And we'd been talking about me maybe teaching him to read at some point. So I'd like to do that."
"Yeah," said Jim, "I want to help Oluwande with that too." They set their knife down—having poked a satisfactory number of tiny stab wounds into the floorboards—and began fidgeting with the loose material of their trousers.
Frenchie sighed and flopped backwards so he was lying on the floor. "I'd love to room with Wee John again. It's just not the same with Jim—no offense."
"None taken. I know I'm not the best company."
Frenchie continued, "I just miss him. I miss his doll, and our little sitting nook."
"Never thought I'd say this, but honestly, I miss everyone," said Jim. "Bastards all drove me insane, but… we were all kind of a family, in a weird way."
"Yeah, and families are supposed to drive you mad sometimes, anyway. That's just what they do. But you still love 'em for it," said Frenchie.
He sat back up, cross-legged, with his elbows on his knees and his face resting in his hands, and the three of them fell into a pensive silence.
Lucius traced little shapes on the ground with his finger—his middle finger, as he worried that the wood of his pointer finger scratching the wood of the floor might make too much noise.
That was something he thought a lot about lately: making noise. He'd never been afraid or ashamed of his own presence in the past, and it was quite jarring to suddenly have to hide it under fear of death. These scant few hours of conversation with his friends were the only reprieve he got before having to slip back into inconspicuousness.
But the others were silent too, now. Jim continued playing with some of the useless-yet-stylish-looking accessories on their outfit, and Frenchie's eyes ran up and down the walls, as if counting the boards or the knots.
"I don't think they're dead," Lucius whispered—even quieter than necessary, as if he were more afraid of the very air around them than the captain holed up in his cabin above them.
Jim asked, "You don't?"
Frenchie asked, "Why not?"
"Because if they are, then what else have we got?"
The two pondered this answer. Neither could quite make sense of it.
Finally, Jim said, "But… if they are then they are, and if they're not, they're not. It's not about what we think."
"Yeah," said Frenchie, "and why does that make you think they're not dead?"
"Because…" Lucius sighed. "Well, if I think they are, then what else have I got? We need to find hope somewhere, right?"
"Still not sure I follow," said Jim.
Frenchie added, "Yeah. Like, Blackbeard left them all on a rock in the middle of the ocean. If no one found them, they're goners."
"Exactly," Jim said quickly. "Plus, now we're stuck here for who knows how long, working for a total emotional wreck of a boss. Just… how are we supposed to still have hope through all that?"
They didn't want a conversation about Blackbeard—they tried not to think too much about him and all of his frustrating and, frankly, concerning and depressing behaviors—but they needed to force out the thought of the rest of their friends alone on a tiny island, waiting for salvation that would likely never come.
"Well, that's what hope is, yeah?" said Lucius. "It's the one thing no one else can take away from you." The three were silent for a moment before Lucius added, more quietly, "Plus… I wasn't dead, was I?"
They all eyed each other uneasily. It didn't bode well if the only thing they had left to rely on was an intangible rope tethering them to an improbable outcome.
"I… I don't know," Jim said finally, a pained look on their face. "I wish I could make myself think that way but… I'm not sure if I can convince myself of anything."
Lucius said, "Yeah. I get that. I don't know, I just… I just need something."
"Well, you have us," said Jim, surprising even themself. Something like that felt strange for them to say. And it seemed the others picked up on it too—Jim felt themself heating up under their curious stares. "Just, y'know," they muttered quickly, "no matter what happens to everyone else, we always have each other, right? And, like… that's not even something we need to hope for. We have it."
Frenchie smiled. "Yeah, that's true. We've already got each other right here, don't need to wait or anything."
"Aww, I love you guys," said Lucius with a grin. He sat up on his knees and held out his arms. "Come on, let's hug it out."
Frenchie eagerly shuffled over and wrapped an arm around Lucius, but Jim just crossed their arms and said, "Don't push your luck, hombrecito."
"Ah, come on," said Frenchie. "Too badass to hug your friends?"
Jim let out a sound halfway between a sigh and a groan, but they couldn't help the smile that crept onto their face. Without a word, they crossed the distance and threw their arms around the others.
The three held each other tightly, and Lucius said, "Aw, I knew you didn't hate us too much."
"Okay, now you're actually pushing it," said Jim, despite their own smile.
When the three of them separated, they sat back and looked at each other in comfortable silence for a moment, until Frenchie finally said, "So… you guys mentioned wanting to teach Pete and Olu to read."
"Yeah," they both said.
"D'you want to get some practice in on me first? I've kinda been wanting to learn," Frenchie said, a bit shyly.
Lucius and Jim met eyes and smiled. Lucius said, "We would love to."
"Yeah," said Jim, "and I've got a journal stashed in our room, if we want to get started now."
"Perfect," Frenchie said as the three stood. With a laugh, he added, "I'm sure Blackbeard won't be too happy once we can communicate in a way he can't understand."
"He can deal with it," said Jim with a wave of their hand. "I'm sure he has bigger things to worry about."
With a smirk, Lucius said, "Yeah, like the stowaway."
They all laughed as they started in the direction of Jim and Frenchie's room, their smiles wider and warmer than they'd been in weeks.