“Well, you’ve seen for yourselfsome of the tomes at my disposal,” Flint answered, one corner of his mouth twitching a little. He was not surprised to know that Vane had heard of how Flint had won against Singleton- he could only imagine how fucking frustrating that must have been at the time, knowing Flint had survived out of sheer luck. “You think I couldn’t?”
“It wasn’t a question of could,” There was no doubt in him that were matters dire enough, just about anything at this man’s disposal could turn itself into a weapon of convenience. “More a matter of would you – after all, this is all about sentiment for you, is it not?”
His stance remained unmoved, the grip on his cutlass tight and at the ready as he stared Jack down. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” He had told the man to move – and if he had to goddamn maneuver the man himself, then so be it. Charles would be damned a thousand times over before he stood by and let this continue on as it was. “I’m putting an end to this Jack – now either you can step aside, or you can grab a pistol and join me. Either way, shut it. The time for talk is over.”
He felt the tugging on his shirt and knew without even looking who it was. Which was good for Jack, all things told. Eventually, he turned around to ask what the hell was the matter now, but it seemed Jack was on a damned mission – hands continued to brush and flit over him, tugging things into place until at last, he appeared to pass muster.
Crossing his arms, Charles raised both his brows and waited, silently, for some form of explanation. Jack, for his part, stared back as though absolutely nothing was out of the ordinary. And so they stood, for a solid six minutes at the least, until finally Bonny’s exasperated tone cut between them. “Let’s go already!”
Spurred into motion, Charles shook his head and made as though to follow after her as she stormed on ahead – but not before reaching out and hooking his arm around Jack’s neck, hauling him down to mess up his ridiculous hair as ‘thanks’ for all the fussing. Grinning, he released the man and sidestepped a sharp elbow before heading after Bonny, lest she leave them both behind.
“Victors do have the habit of bragging about their accomplishments,” Charles’ agreement was rough and dismissive – he could think of few ‘great battles’ in recent years that were anything more than wholesale slaughter in the name of fucking profits.
Of course, in order to live with that shit, the winners had to turn it into something worth talking about so that their ‘civilized’ existences could maintain itself and not collapse inward under the weight of hypocrisy it barely functioned beneath as it was.
Glancing over at Jack, he relented slightly – if only because he knew there’d be no real discouraging him, and it was better to have him go off in high spirits than have him spend the next fuck knew how long in an effort to convince Vane that his story was absolutely relevant somehow.
“So what did they do? I’m assuming their victory applies to our plan somehow?”
He’d guessed, honestly – but he hadn’t been about to place expectations on Bonny; she was too unpredictable for it. In truth, he was glad she had shown up even if it was just to see him off. Doing this wasn’t something that came light or easy, and it absolutely wasn’t something he could explain to Jack. The man would never get it – but her?
She had enough of her own demons to know the necessity inherent in killing them once and for all, of that, he held no doubts.
“You’ll keep things going in my absence.” It’s not a question – he knows she has what it takes to manage affairs alongside Jack – and to keep their mutual friend from asking too many questions, or doing anything stupid of his own. He hesitated a moment, and in the end he wasn’t sure who he was assuring when he stated frankly, “I will be back. Soon. Try not to burn the place down while I’m gone, yeah?”
“You absolutely do not,” The counter was immediate as it was amused, “You’d never stick around for a minute if that was true.” Not that he was always smug – he just knew when Jack was griping for the sake of hearing his own voice, and wasn’t above calling it out.
Charles was quiet – there was nothing he could say here that would feel right in the face of what was going on around them. He knew Jack understood, on a logical level – and he respected the fact that Jack would never truly have reason to empathize with him on this front, especially what with the fact he would personally and single handedly behead an entire fucking army if that was what it took to ascertain the damnable fool never obtained the depth of familiarity necessary to realize exactly how fucked up this all was.
But that didn’t mean he had to like it.
Straightening up, he looked at the man steadily a moment, before nodding and taking his leave. It was time to address them – and though he knew their freedom stood at the end of this labour, it didn’t make the position any easier to swallow. It didn’t wash away the bile that had settled itself thickly in the back of his throat from the very moment he had realized what the fuck Jack had done, what he expected, what Nassau apparently needed.
Jack was going to be right there, alright. And he wasn’t going to like this one bit.
Striding forth into the square, he faced the situation before him and did what he knew was right. If he and Flint could not manage what Jack had failed to accomplish in their absence, and do so by honest means, then they had no right to call themselves leaders. And if Nassau could not survive without slaves –
Then the entire fucking place could burn like Charlestown. Every goddamn acre of it. He’d tear her to pieces with his own fucking hands before succumbing to this.
“You’re free to go.” His voice was pitched as loud as it could go – clear in the quiet of those who faced him. “Every one of you – should you wish to stay here – are welcome to find honest work. As for the rest – arrangements will be made for you to rejoin your people as soon as we are able.”
Jack wouldn’t understand. And frankly – he didn’t have to.
It was a testament to the relationship held between Charles and his quartermaster that Rackham could just say hold out your hands and he would do so without suspicion or fear – and considering that act was in a sense a sign of surrender, something that could easily turn to shackles on his wrists if he were not fast enough to react – spoke loud and clear about how much trust was held between them.
Jack did not disappoint – what he had to deliver was small even in his own hands, but set into Charles’, the little lizard was adorably dwarfed. Tucking the tiny thing close so that it would have a greater sense of security and freedom in wandering, he grinned brightly at it before looking up at Jack ( not thinking to wipe his features before doing so ) and wondered honestly, “Where did you find this, then?”
“Considering the lack of canon balls in this household, I’m curious as to how you think you’d be winning that fight even if I did,” Charles retorted, amused. “Bludgeon me with a book?”
Ocean Archive 