Chapter Text
James pulled himself up from the galley below, his vision blurred and his steps unsteady. The tall black hat that had somehow survived both bullet and battle, was pitched low across his brow concealing the worried state of his eyes. It was a slow, limping saunter that brought him to the boat’s edge, where he stared out over the stretch of open sea.
Fuck. Fuck. She was shot.
The upper arm location of the shot was not necessarily life threatening. He had seen that her breathing was labored, and those brown doe eyes that raised to his own concerned gaze held more than a hint of pain. Not immediately life threatening, if they were not out on the ocean for weeks and with their only doctor gravely injured as well. James did not pause where Cholmondeley lay half mumbling and groaning. Godfrey was with him, his voice lowered in a hushed comfort. He had gone straight to where she lay at the end of the galley room, one side of her clothing soaked red with blood. No words were exchanged. Just a slight nod of his head. I see you. Now as the beautiful blue of sea and sky lay out stretched out before him like a benediction, he couldn’t erase the sight of Lorna laying there bleeding from his mind. He had not counted on this.
You didn’t count on anything about her, did you?
The set of his jaw was firmly clenched. A sign to others strolling about the upper deck, Do Not Approach. And no one did. They all had seen his painful but hurried steps towards the galley when he was told she was injured. His normally stoic gaze briefly registering astonishment, even pride, when they spoke of how she had stood fearless at the gangplank allowing the others to quickly scurry to safety. Taking on and returning fire, her red hair whipping about in the wind while she stood her ground: until she was down. Until the veil dropped once more and those were quickly replaced by fear and worry. Just as fast, returning to it’s usually brooding glare; but still he went to her. Though his touch was brief, it spoke volumes, as those in the room each held to their own silent vigils. Turning in the enclosed space, he quickly left as though he couldn’t bear to see her in pain. Or perhaps show his own.
The gulls circled above, their cries carried across the ocean breeze, where his own too loud thoughts echoed.
Why do you cross a river?
It was a good day to die on the open sea.
No. No it wasn’t. Not for her. Maybe for James; as he’d be willing from the start. Whether by assassin or flint struck explosion of gun powder. His tortured soul ready to pass over to whatever lay on the other side of this twisted life. He’d been bent and plaited by other hands for too long. It was only her that ever dared to show him another way. A possibility he’d never considered. Never earned. And yet it was there: a glimmer of hope perhaps, as he glanced upon the brass plate emblazoned with his ships name. The Good Hope. James was full aware he had very little left of anything in his heart to give to anyone, let alone the one that almost gave her all. The fact that there was enough of a wanting ache deep inside both surprised him, and left him rooted at the edge of action. But he saw now. All she had done. What she had given when it was most needed. His head bent to the rush of waves upon the bow as he pondered if he truly could take this unexpected gift and treat it with the care it deserved.
James slapped the edge of the boat and turned on his heel, his steps purposefully despite the pain still coursing through his own body.
One thing he swore for now: she would not die. Not while any breath lingered in his own body. And by whatever hell this world still might unfold upon him, he would do right by her. If she was strong enough to stand alone on a gangplank for the grasp of something better, something more – the hell if was not going to stand beside her and face whatever may come.
As he strode across the desk in search of Atticus, the truth he’d denied for many weeks finally hit him.
This woman was not only the same person as he, she was most completely his. All that remained was whether he had enough left in him to make it so.
~
The boat rocked gently in the night. A soothing lullaby of motion that eased the dull pain pulsing along her wounded arm. How long it had done so was lost to her as she slipped in and out of consciousness. The hours had blurred into simply one long moment of pain. Her brow was fevered, the heat radiating in the confined space, as sweat beads dotted her face and chest. Though her body lay shivering in the damp hull of the ship. The other young woman, April she thought was her name, checked on her often. She could hear the labored breathing of another, and the whispered tones of Godfrey as he comforted him. The chemist she thought, and her nose involuntary wrinkled. A slight chastising followed, for in truth he seemed gravelly injured and she certainly did not seek his death. Despite the contents of that letter.
She shifted uncomfortably in the night, bringing a sharp pain to her wound that caused a small gasp. In the glow of lamps, Robert’s face appeared above her small bunk.
“Are ya well Ms Delaney?” His worried eyes huge in the darkened space. It crossed her mind that he was so young to be living such an adventure. Perhaps that was why she had not hesitated to stand in the line of fire to make sure he was safely aboard. She could scarcely believe herself that she had stood there and fired upon the Kings’ men. Seeing the concern for her etched on his young face now, she knew she’d do it a thousand times again.
“I’m fine Robert. Just a stab of pain when I move is all.” She managed a feeble smile to assure the boy the truth of her words.
“Mr. Delaney told me to fetch him if you got worse – no matter the time he said, no matter at all.” His head bobbed to add weight to the important words he clearly felt came from an important man.
“No, there’s no need to be waking Mr Delaney now. I’m sure I’ll be fast asleep soon too. Why don’t you go ahead to your bed now?”
The boy shook his head vigorously, “Nah, someone is stay with you during the night, until you’re better. Mr. Delaney said so. It’s my turn now and I’ll not leave ya. When April returns, then I will go.”
Lorna nodded her head, inwardly pleased at the boys’ resolve to stand his post. She smiled at him and then lay back and closed her eyes. Just before sleep once again claimed her, she recalled the dark shadow of the man standing over her. A too familiar form in his long coat and tall hat pulled low in the shadowed space to barely conceal the pain and concern etched in his eyes. My how the silence in him could be a deafening roar. Even in his silence, she still heard his heart loud and clear. That stoic visage that belied his inner turmoil she knew he held in check, as he gazed down on her wounded body. The warmth of his touch even through the leather glove when the caress of his hand rested upon her shoulder. The soft brush of a thumb as it rubbed along her skin. A simple gesture. An over due acknowledgement. But still his silence cloaked him. Only a brief nod of his head as his eyes met her own pain filled gaze. And then he was gone.
~
The stove fire had died to all but embers, as James head hung low upon his chest. Seated in front of it’s dying warmth, his churning thoughts gave way to sleep, as his body slowly succumbed to both exhaustion and pain. As always, the dreams came. Images flashed while his body desperately sought to grasp the rest it needed. He tried to recall the weightlessness of floating in the water. Sought to allow his mind to empty of all but the warm caress of the liquid soothing his aching flesh. But the bodies were always there. And now one more was added. It seemed like there would never be an escape from the torment of his own mind. Even his rituals eased little these days. Just that never ending singing of the dead in the water.
The dead don’t sing.
James head snapped up and he searched the room for that voice. The one that knew how to both call him back, and propel him forward. The one that saw him as he was when no one else would even look. Not even her. How had such darkness as he summoned such a light force? No. Not spells. No chants. Just as though from nothing, she had appeared. Not mocking, but showing the way when with baited breath he’d summoned the courage to ask. Knowing sleep would never come now, James got up from his cross legged perch, and grabbing a candle, left the Captains’ Cabin to wander his ship in the night.
The moon held fast in it’s lofty perch high above the sails. It cast the shadow of a seaman at the helm holding his post until his relief should arrive. The only sound was the gentle breeze in the sails and the lapping of the waves upon the boats’ sides. With a limping gait he crossed to a crate and perching on it’s edge, lit his pipe. The smoke circling up to twist around the tall mast before it too was lost to the night. Slowly his mind began to clear as he inhaled deeply; shaking the last clinging vestiges of those visions away. In the quiet of night, he paused to question once again the fragile nature of his mind. Casting back to the events of the past weeks since his return. The distractions that had plagued and threatened an end to his carefully organized plan. Was what he saw always real? Was it even helpful? In seemed to be in certain moments, and then others were just all confusing or horror; and more often a mixture of the two. This journey was ever fraught with more questions than answers and he realized now the fear that he would never find himself – never claw his way back to who he truly was, grew ever stronger. One hand reached up to trace the lines burned upon his back; reaching all the way back into his past. Into Africa. But the fragments of his mind of late were like the thread of a web; hard to break – yet so fragile as to be carried away on a fickle wind.
A noise suddenly carried through the night over the lonely boards of the ships deck. James strained his ears to catch the direction. Shit, was it even real? Tilting his head, once again came the soft high pitched cry – as though in pain. His eyes darted to the lower galley doorway, and in a moment’s breath James was on his feet and shuffling towards the darkened stairs that lead to where she lay calling to him. There was no doubt in his mind that her voice was real.