The Jackdaw

Chapter 6: Drunken Flirtations

It must have been days when you finally pried your eyes open again. The loud creaking of the door pulled you from sleep, the banging of boots hard against the wooden floorboards quickly following. "Kenway!" His voice was deep, gruff, and incredibly loud. "What the devil are you doing, boy?"

Edward whispered with harsh bitterness, "Jaysus. Keep it down, Thatch." He stood up and it almost looked like he was about to pummel the man.

"Your men told me you were held up in a bakery fondling over some boy who got wounded." Thatch's eyes peered passed Edward, his dark tanned skin fitting well with the blackness of his beard.

You tried not to grin but the shocked expression he wore was priceless. It wasn't that he was simply shocked, rather he hadn't been expecting it. You were curled up on the bed to keep most of your wounded back from touching anything.

"Ah, a lady?"

"She's that boy on my crew." Edward shifted, slowly dropping back down into his seat next to the bed. "They don't know." He lifted a hand to his forehead, fingers pressed into his temple.

Thatch gave a rough, gravelly laugh. "Sure as hell explains a lot, Kenway." He moved across the room. His steps were loud and reverberated, his weaponry clattering in their holsters and sheaths. "Your crew's starting to think you've lost your pirating touch. Right now, the rum and the ladies are keeping them occupied. But they'll hunger for more gold, Kenway."

"I know," muttered Edward, eyes resting on yours and you could see that he hadn't slept for some time. You weren't even sure he had eaten anything in the past few days.

You attempted a weak smile, attempted to keep your voice level, "Go get me some rum, Captain. Drink a few for me while you're out there."

He was frozen, examining your expression for any signs that might convince him to stay. And you damn well hoped that none of the pain you were feeling registered across your face. You put every effort and thought into smoothing out your brows and softening your lips.

"She's right, you know." Thatch smacked a hand into Edward's back. "Drink a few with your men. Sing a few cheers. Then you can hightail it back up here to your dearest sweetheart." He threw you a wink and another rusty laugh.

Edward stiffened but he got up onto his feet. "I'll send Adé up here to check on you."

You huffed a laugh which sparked a jolt of pain between your shoulder blades. You nodded your head, desperate to keep your expression smooth. You didn't want to alarm Edward. You also couldn't speak. It felt as if your lungs were being twisted.

Thatch grabbed Edward by the arm and half-pulled him out of the bedroom. He was laughing loudly again, saying something to him that you hadn't really picked up on. The moment the door was closed you let out a hiss of agony. Your body began to curl in on itself. But just that small movement alone dragged the rough textures of your shirt across swollen, burnt flesh.

Whatever medicine the doctor had given you was wearing off. Medicine and rum, that is. And you'd kill to have either one in your system.

It felt like hours before the door creaked again. You stifled your sobbing and pressed your mouth into your hand with hopes to keep back any sounds. However, you wouldn't be able to cover up your reddened eyes or the streaks of tears quite so easily.

Ade's brilliant smile came into view, his dark skin glistening from the Caribbean heat. He strode across the room, glancing you over and letting his smile fade. "You been crying?"

You stiffly shook your head, clenching your eyes shut when the small gesture shot pain down your back. You grabbed the blanket and brought it to your mouth, stifling the sounds that threatened to break free.