Soldier, Poet, King

Chapter 21, Pt. II: All or None

"What the hell happened here...?" Wee John grumbles as he catches a glimpse of the bar. Seconds later you understand his reaction.

Bodies of the Navy litter the floor through the crowd, though whether or not they are dead or merely unconscious you aren't sure of yet. Broken glass from shattered cups crunch beneath your boots and spilled alcohol makes the floor sticky. It reeks of booze and overpowering cologne. The woman Oluwande and Jim had been fussing over pushes her way to the front. Drying blood stains the bandage around her shoulder but she doesn't seem to take any notice of the wound, her fists clenched at her side as she breaks free from the crowd.

"No!" She barks through gritted teeth, "He is not yours to kill."

Standing on your tiptoes you watch as she strides over the unmoving bodies. In the centre of the room stands the Captain of the Red Flag, Zheng. Her sword is pressed against the rotten Prince Banes' throat and she looks up with an expression of shock. Banes, on his knees with his teeth gritted in insolence, is being held still by his frilly cravat like a kitten being held back by the scruff. Your eyes widen as the realisation of who the bloodied woman is slams into you. Auntie. Away from the Red Flag and after the horrors that the last day has all put you through, she is a husk of her former self. The unwavering confidence that she held herself with has wilted away, and even though she is still headstrong and sure of herself, there is a new sense of fragility that most certainly was not there before.

"You're alive..." Zheng drops the tip of her sword and her eyes well with tears.

"Oh!" Behind her stands Stede and Edward. They seem to be back together - again - Edward's gaze stuck on the blond man beside him with a dreamy sort of dazed look on his blood splattered face. Stede waves his hand excitedly as the Revenge crew make their way to the front of the group, "Hey guys! We were just about to go looking for you."

"Hey, Cap-"

Prince Banes lets out a guttural moan as Auntie drives her fist into his face.

"-Tain!" Leaving Spanish Jackie's side by the bar, Roach comes to stand beside Fang.

Others have begun to filter out behind you and find each other, Lucius and Black Pete already in each other's arms. Jim stands between Oluwande and Archie, holding both of their partners hands in their own. You are still standing beside Wee John, his arms crossed over his chest as he scopes out the room. Your gaze falls to the unmoving bodies once more and it is only after considerable scrutinization are you able to notice any discernible lack of breathing from them. Not asleep. None of the motionless bodies resemble Izzy in any way and you try to ignore the tugging feeling in your stomach. Grinding your heel into the floor, glass splinters beneath your boot into sparkling fragments like ice over stone.

"What're you doing, if you step on that you'll have bad luck for a month." Frenchie gives you a concerned look and grabs you by the upper arm to pull you away from the shattered pieces. The sole of your boot crunches from the tiny shards embedded in it as you stumble backwards.

"I think we're all full up on bad luck, mate," Beside you Wee John sighs, and toes away a particularly large fragment of broken bottle, "I know yer one for superstition-"

"Science."

"Science, superstition, whatever. All I'm tryin' teh say is I don't think a bit of glass dust is really gonna tip the scales one way or another."

"You say that now..."

Your temples throb as you try to tune out the bickering of the two men. It is difficult to breathe from your nose from the dried blood that has settled in your sinuses and all the smoke you inhaled that has left your throat scratchy and sore. Pushing the hair back from your face, your hands come away with a sheen of ash and sweat, and you do your best not to think about how long it's been since you've had a proper bath. Too fucking long. With tired eyes, you try to appreciate the joy Zheng and Auntie are experiencing despite the lurking frustration that is curdling in the pit of your stomach.