Soldier, Poet, King

Chapter 12: Oleander

The morning air is cold against your face, stinging your cheeks as you try to wake up. Wee John's doll is an arms length away on the floor, her little body in a heap of patchwork cloth and buttons. Sometime during the night, Frenchie had rolled onto his other side, his arm draped loosely around your waist and pinning your arms to your chest. His nose is cold against your neck, and you can feel the soft huff of his breathing as he continues to sleep. Slowly, your fingertips find the edge of his jaw and trace downwards until you reach the slope of shoulder and pull his jacket back up to his ears. He shifts a little, making a small whimper, but does not wake up fully. His forehead is soft against your lips as you kiss him gently, pulling away when he moves once more.

"What time is it?" His voice is gravelly from sleep, pressing his face deeper into your neck to escape the dim morning light that fills the room.

"It's still early."

"Your heart's racing," You feel his eyelashes tickling your neck as his eyes open, moving his head so he can look up at you, "Did something happen?"

"Bad dreams."

"D'you wanna talk about them?" His gaze is soft as he studies your face.

"It's okay. We have enough nightmares on this ship as it is."

"Today's a new day, it could prove you wrong-" His smile fades at the sound of glass breaking and a loud thud of wood crashing against wood, "Or there's always tomorrow."

"You're first mate now, I think dealing with whatever mess he's making up there is now part of your job description."

'Don't let him drag anyone else into this nightmare.'

"Yeah..." Frenchie sighs, his jacket dragging into his lap as he sits up.

"Hey," Propping yourself up on your elbows, you gently grab his chin to make him look down at you, "Be careful. I mean it."

"What do you mean? I'm the King of Careful." His sheepish smile betrays him. At least he's self aware.

"I mean it. No goading him or riling him up."

"I would never goad him."

"Frenchie."

"I won't goad him... Or rile him in any way, shape, or form."

"Frenchie, I mean it."

"I'll be careful, love," He taps the bottom of your chin with his finger before getting to his feet, "It should be about time for you to relieve Jim and Archie, right? I wonder how Iz is holdin' up."

"I guess I'll find out..." You murmur, trying to ignore the icy dread running through your veins as you pull on your boots, "I think he'll be able to pull through long enough until we head for land again."

"R-Right... Heading for land. That is- Heh- That is still the plan," Frenchie stammers, a sick look on his face as he struggles to respond, "I'll try to keep Ed occupied. He was... in a bit of a mood last night and said some things that I think might have been misplaced pain instead."

"When do you think we'll be able to meet up again today?"

"Don't know. Not sure. We'll see. Depends on how Ed's doin', but I wouldn't get your hopes up, mate," He scrambles to his feet, shoving his hands through the sleeves of his coat as he strides to the door, "Tell Izzy I said hi, okay?"

"O-" The door slams behind him, "-Kay..."

⬩ ⬩ ⬩

You can hear Izzy's pained cries from the galley, and it only gets louder as you near the secret hatch down to Roach's Nook. His wails hit you first and make your ears ring as you open the door, but it is the smell that hits you harder. It's similar to the sickening stench of rotting flesh that Lucius' finger had given off before he had cut it off, but much, much stronger given the size of the room that the air has been trapped in. Jim and Archie flinch at the sound of you coming down the steps, looking back at you with wild eyes.