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It turned out the Revenge had a little life in her yet. Battered and broken from the storm, they just managed to limp away from Captain Zheng’s ship, thanks to the wheel Wee John had nicked for them.
Everything was still a wreck, but Buttons put the crew onto the most urgent repairs. Enough to keep them upright and moving, anyway. As Frenchie patched and hammered with the others, his body was still coursing with the surge of energy the escape had brought with it. They did what was needed to hold the ship together, all of them—Stede’s crew in their neat blue uniforms and Blackbeard’s crew kitted out like the Devil’s kids that had been chewed up and spat back out.
Frenchie didn’t realize how tired he felt until Buttons gave them the go-ahead to turn in. “The rest’ll keep ‘til morning,” he said. “Ye go grab yourselves some shuteye.”
That’s when exhaustion slammed into him like a wave. Frenchie actually stumbled into Pete a bit, his knees shaking as he thought there was nothing he’d rather do than sleep right now. Blinking wearily, he looked about the deck for Wee John. They could all do with a good night’s—
Frenchie’s mind stuttered as he stepped across The Spot. The place where it happened. Captain Zheng’s first mate had seen it straight off, and Frenchie wondered if the aura of it was clinging to him somehow.
Frenchie screwed his eyes shut, pressing his knuckles against his temples as his mind conjured up the memory of Blackbeard’s expression right at the end. No, he didn’t want to think about that. Back in the box, you, he thought. Stay put! How do you keep getting out?
When he opened his eyes, both of Frenchie’s hands were gripping his hair. He finally caught sight of Wee John, but suddenly, the thought of going over to him, of asking to lay down next to him and having his mate wrap his big arms round him, made Frenchie feel sick.
He slipped away before he could be spotted, retreating to the beakhead. He’d spent a good amount of time here since Blackbeard had run off with the ship. It wasn’t a bad place for going unnoticed—Frenchie sat down on the deck, tucking himself next to a barrel. He rested his head on his knees and tried to pretend he didn’t hear Wee John calling his name.
It wouldn’t be right, not now. Not after everything. Frenchie could feel his fingers fidgeting. He closed his eyes again.
Sleep didn’t come. He’d not thought it would. Frenchie hadn’t been able to sleep alone lately. The only way he’d been able to drift off was by holding onto Jim or Fang, letting the feel of their arms round him settle his mind. But from his hideaway spot, Frenchie could hear Fang’s gentle voice as he helped Izzy stagger below deck. He heard Jim and Oluwande talking about their old room, and it sounded like the two of them and Archie were all heading off together.
Blackbeard used to rattle round at all hours—he hadn’t slept much either. Although Frenchie knew that wasn’t the reason things had turned out with Blackbeard like they did, it couldn’t have helped. Not the most comforting thought, that.
“Frenchie?”
The voice was husky and quiet, but Frenchie nearly jumped out of his skin. “Fuck-luck!” he said, looking up and realizing that Jim was standing over him. “Where’d you come from?”
“We’re on a ship,” Jim pointed out. “The only place to ‘come from’ is right here.”
“Oh, right,” Frenchie conceded. “Sorry—bit jumpy.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” Jim replied.
“Yeah,” Frenchie echoed. “How’d you find me?”
“You think I don’t know your hiding places?” Jim retorted.
“Mmm, right,” Frenchie mumbled.
They both went quiet. Frenchie could hear the beginnings of snores on the main deck and the lap of the waves below. Then he said, “You’ve got Oluwande back.”
Jim’s mouth flickered with a stunned smile, like they didn’t fully believe it yet. “I know,” they said. “I’m used to losing people. Not so used to getting them back.”
“Plus there’s Archie,” Frenchie noted. The corner of his mouth crooked up as he looked at them. “You’re spoiled for choice.”
“Tell me about it,” Jim said. They leaned against the edge of Frenchie’s barrel. “It’s a lot to take in. And with Olu…I don’t know. I haven’t figured it all out yet.” Nudging Frenchie’s foot with theirs, they added, “What about you? I figured you’d be with Wee John.”
“Oh.” Frenchie shook his head, hugging his knees. “I-I can’t.”
Jim frowned at him. “I thought I saw you guys go off together when we were on the other ship.”
They had. Wee John had given him a cuddle while Frenchie took a much-needed nap. Then Captain Zheng’s first mate had brought Frenchie and Fang back to the Revenge, looking for answers about Blackbeard, and that’s when it had all gone wrong again.
“Yeah—we did,” Frenchie told Jim. “But that was before. He…” he picked at his fingernails, “he knows now.”
“Right. Shit.” Jim sighed. “We had no other choice.”
“I know,” Frenchie said. “It doesn’t help.”
“...No, it doesn’t,” Jim admitted.
Frenchie wondered if knowing and believing were two different things. ‘Cause it was hard to believe it when Blackbeard had looked so relieved as they were about to do it. Anything that left a man looking relieved to die didn’t feel like it could be right.
Giving Jim a sidelong look, Frenchie asked, “Olu still cares about you? After…?”
“We haven’t talked about it,” Jim admitted. They winced. “Fuck, don’t put that kinda thing into my head! There’s enough messed-up shit in there as it is.”
“Sorry,” Frenchie said. “I wasn’t trying to—” He broke off, taking a breath before he tried again. “You’re all going to your old room, right? So he must still…I mean, he’s still there for you.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Jim agreed. They hugged themself like they were cold. “Are you gonna talk to Wee John?”
“I dunno,” Frenchie replied, shrugging.
“You could also not talk,” Jim pointed out. “Just be with him and not talk, if the talking part feels too hard.” They offered Frenchie a faint smile. “When you’re going through shit and not ready to deal with it, pretending to be mute is a great option.”
Frenchie returned as much of the smile as he could. “I’ll keep that in my back pocket,” he told them. “Just—not tonight, I don’t think.”
Jim nodded. “Why don’t you come with us then?” they suggested.
Frenchie shook his head. “You don’t want me getting in the way,” he insisted.
“How ‘bout you let me tell you what I want?” Jim countered, reaching over to give his cheek a little push. “Anyway, the Archie and Olu of it all? It’s complicated, and I’m sure as hell not figuring it out tonight. So come on. You can be my buffer to avoid my relationship shit, and we can help you sleep. If you stay out here by yourself, you’re gonna be awake all night—you think I wanna deal with you stumbling around tomorrow if you haven’t slept?”
They stood up. “Come on,” they repeated.
After a beat, Frenchie nodded. He scrambled to his feet, Jim pulling him the rest of the way up, and the two of them headed below deck.
Oluwande and Archie were already waiting in his and Jim’s old room—it was Frenchie’s room with Wee John too, once. “There you are,” Olu said, getting up as Jim came in. “Is everything okay?”
“That’s a weird question to answer right now,” Jim replied. “‘Everything’ feels like way too much. But this is okay.” Frenchie was hovering in the doorway, and Jim dragged him in after them. “Frenchie’s gonna stay with us tonight.”
“You know, I liked this whole ‘having a room’ idea,” Archie remarked, “but how many people are we gonna cram into this fucking thing? Any more, and we’ll basically recreate the experience of sleeping with everybody on deck or in the hold, just in a smaller space.”
“I can go—” Frenchie started, but Jim grabbed his arm.
“He’s skinny,” they told Archie. “You’ll barely notice he’s here.”
Oluwande looked at Frenchie with concerned eyes but a reassuring smile. “All right, mate?”
“Oh, you know,” Frenchie said, keeping his tone light. But his fingers fidgeted at his sides.
“You realize that’s not actually an answer?” Olu pointed out.
“What he is is tired,” Jim supplied. “We’ve hardly gotten any sleep for days. Can we all just agree that, whatever shit we’ve got going on, it’s on hold until tomorrow?”
Olu glanced at Archie with an uncertain look. “Er, that might be good,” he decided.
There were two beds in the room, and they figured the easiest thing was to push them together. They lay down in a row, with Archie as the biggest spoon, then Jim, then Oluwande, then Frenchie as the little one. “All right, this is actually pretty comfortable,” Archie remarked.
“Told you,” Jim said.
Olu’s embrace was gentle, like Frenchie was something soft that was worth protecting. As he closed his eyes, Frenchie slipped his hand into Olu’s.
* * *
Real, genuine sleep wasn’t something to take for granted. Frenchie had always had a healthy appreciation for a good night’s shuteye, but being on Blackbeard’s crew had shown him just how precious it really was. After nodding off in Oluwande’s arms, Frenchie’s dreams were formless, nothing solid enough to trouble or rouse him. He was just floating somewhere, and while his mind wasn’t exactly still, it was more like the lapping waves outside than the rising pitch during the storm.
He wasn’t sure what time he woke up—early in the morning, probably. The room was dark and quiet, and the others were still sleeping beside him. Olu was a topnotch cuddler, and Frenchie burrowed in comfortably. Noticing Jim’s arm hanging over Oluwande’s middle in the soft gloom, Frenchie reached out and gave it a squeeze.
He’d thought maybe that was it between the two of them, now that Jim had Olu and Archie—in whatever capacity that was. It wouldn’t be the first time a friend had drifted away from Frenchie after finding someone who could give them the “more” that so many people seemed to want. He’d readied himself for that, told himself it was all right. But he was glad Jim knew his hiding places and had gone after him.
Oluwande murmured a little, clearing his throat. “Hmmm, Frenchie, you awake?” he said in a low voice, yawning.
“Yeah,” Frenchie replied. “Cheers for letting me crash your reunion. It’s just—” he frowned, “it’s been hard, you know, with everything.”
“I know,” Olu told him. “Well, I mean, I don’t know, not really. I’ve only heard a little of what happened to you guys while we were apart.”
Frenchie felt an ominous buzzing in his head. “Mate…” he began warily.
“I’m not asking you to tell me,” Olu clarified. “I’m not saying that. I’m just saying, I can’t imagine what that was like for you. And I wish I did, ‘cause then maybe I could do more to help. I hope Jim feels like they can tell me when they’re ready.”
Frenchie thought he could live 100 lives and never could be as kind as Oluwande. “You’re a good guy,” he told his mate. He was quiet for a moment. “You don’t think of them any different, knowing what they did?”
“Is that what’s bothering you?” Olu asked. “You think we won’t—?” He hugged Frenchie a little tighter. “From what I’ve heard, sounds like you didn’t have any other options.”
“Uh huh,” Frenchie mumbled. That’s what Izzy had told them, after it happened. We had no other choice, he said. It’s what they’d all been telling themselves since, and every time Frenchie thought those words, it was like they tracked a bit more mud into his mind.
“Seems like he practically pushed you into it,” Oluwande offered.
“And that’s the part that’s got my head spinning, man,” Frenchie replied. Blackbeard’s contented look and relieved sigh popped into his thoughts again. “Why would he do that? It was like he wanted us to—” He shook his head. “No, sorry. Forget I said anything.”
“It’s okay,” Olu said, his tone soft and encouraging.
Frenchie let out a small wordless grumble. “Oi, don’t do that!” he insisted.
“What?” Oluwande asked. “What am I doing?”
“Being all understanding and caring,” Frenchie told him.
Oluwande chuckled quietly. “That’s a bad thing?”
“You’re just trying to get me to talk about feelings stuff,” Frenchie said. “I don’t do that.”
“It might help,” Olu replied.
“No, ‘cause—“ Argh, there he went again!
“‘Cause what?” Oluwande wondered.
‘Cause then the bad thoughts won’t stay in the box where they belong, Frenchie thought. They keep trying to get out as it is. Another flash of Blackbeard’s face ran through his head.
“Never mind,” he mumbled.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” Olu said, “not if you don’t want to. But if you do, I’m here.”
“Well, I don’t,” Frenchie said firmly.
“Okay,” Oluwande replied, sounding so gentle.
Frenchie made a face. “You’re still doing it, you know,” he pointed out.
“Sorry,” Olu said, and Frenchie could hear the soft smile in his voice.
Well, Frenchie wasn’t about to start sharing, so Olu could wait as long as he liked. Only….
Frenchie sighed. Damn him.
“I just, I keep thinking,” he heard himself say. “We’d known all along that something was wrong. There—I mean, there must’ve been something better, something besides that, if only I could’ve thought of it.”
“Don’t do that to yourself,” Oluwande urged. “You’ll go mad.”
“I was first mate, though,” Frenchie confessed. He shifted round a little so he could sink one of his hands into his hair. “Wasn’t that my job? Help the captain, help the crew? Fucked that up on both counts, didn’t I?”
He should’ve done something. But Frenchie didn’t know what.
“Look, I don’t have answers for you,” Olu told him. “I don’t know if there are any answers. I just know that we still love you guys. What happened can’t change that.”
“Stede doesn’t.” The words were out of Frenchie’s mouth before he knew he’d said them, and he grimaced at the memory of Stede’s face when he came down to see them in the brig, after they’d found the body. “He can’t.”
“Jim said Stede’s the one who came up with the escape plan,” Olu countered. “He knew what happened, and he still got you out. I can’t speak for him, but don’t actions speak louder than words?”
He took Frenchie’s hand, interlacing their fingers. “Like I said, I can’t imagine what you guys have been through,” Oluwande went on. “I don’t blame you for what all went down, and I reckon the rest of the crew doesn’t either.”
Frenchie felt the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth. “You realize you’re the best person I know, right?” he asked. “You’re an outlier—you don’t count.”
“I do count,” Oluwande replied, “or else you wouldn’t have asked how I feel about Jim since I found out about Blackbeard. I dunno who it is you’re wondering about, but I bet they don’t see you any different. If you give them a chance, maybe they can show you?”
Frenchie thought about Wee John stealing Captain Zheng’s wheel so they could escape, thought about Wee John calling his name before going to bed last night. Was it wishful thinking to hope he’d still want Frenchie for a mate, or did his actions speak louder than words too?
“Maybe,” Frenchie allowed, squeezing Olu’s hand.
For a minute, neither of them spoke. Then Oluwande asked, “Are you hungry? Ready to get up yet?”
“Not yet,” Frenchie told him. “I wanna lie here a bit longer. Don’t let me go, okay?”
“I won’t,” Olu said. “I’m here, long as you need me. No talking necessary, I promise.”
Frenchie smiled softly. “Cheers, m’dear.”
Before long, he’d have to get up, have to face whatever the morning brought. Maybe face Wee John and find out if there was anything left between them to save. But for a little longer, he could bask in the memory of Jim coming to find him and bringing him back to the room with them. He could bask in the feel of Oluwande’s warm, safe arms and the assurance that Olu still wanted him there. He could even bask in the notion of Archie being content enough for him to lie down with them all, after she’d initially complained it was too crowded.
With all that to buoy him, Frenchie thought it’d be enough to get him out of bed, to leave the room, and to go up on deck. That might not be much, but it was a start. He’d see where it would take him from there.