𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘, 𝖺 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝖻𝗎𝗆

ashes and questions

The fire crackled in the middle of the safe house courtyard, casting warm gold against stone and dirt.

Most of the others had gone to sleep, their bodies finally allowed rest after the war. The stars above blinked faintly, far less violent than the ones that had burned across the sky just a week ago.

Nico sat on a low stone bench near the fire, his coat folded beside him, arms draped loosely over his knees.

A bruise still marked his jaw from the final battle. His hands — calloused, familiar with ropes, blades, and sails — now lay still. Idle. Almost foreign.

He stared into the flames like they held answers. Or guilt.

Behind him, quiet footsteps. He didn't have to look.

"I thought I'd find you here," Bea said softly.

He glanced up. "Can't sleep either?"

"No," she said, settling beside him. "Too quiet. And you look like your brain's eating itself."

He chuckled, dry and low. "Feels about right."

They sat in silence for a while, just the fire between them.

Finally, Nico said, "You know, I used to think surviving meant not asking questions. Just doing what you had to. Get the loot. Keep your head down. Loyalty to the crew." He scoffed at the word. "Loyalty."

Bea looked at him, but didn't interrupt.

"I didn't hate it," he said. "The sea, the wind... the freedom. But that crew? The things we did?" He swallowed hard. "I look back now and wonder if I was ever free. Or just blind."

"You made a choice," Bea said. "That night on the ship. You left them."

"After too long." His voice cracked. "After I let them hurt people like your friends. After I helped."

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes glinting. "I still see the faces. The ones we robbed. The ones we scared. Sometimes I think maybe I'm not meant to be here. Not with all of you. Not after everything."

Bea's brows furrowed. She touched his arm. Light, but grounding. "You're not that person anymore."

"Maybe," he said quietly. "But how do you know when you've earned your place? When it's okay to stop running from who you were?"

Bea was quiet for a beat.

Then: "You didn't save me to feel good. You did it because something inside you knew what was right. You didn't stop after that. You stayed. You fought. You bled for this group."

She turned to him, eyes fierce. "You don't earn your place in one night, Nico. But you build it. Every day. You already are."

Nico looked at her. Really looked.

Something in him, long buried under salt and scars and silence, shifted.

He nodded slowly. "You make it sound easier than it is."

Bea smiled, soft and sad. "It never is. But you're not alone anymore."

He looked back at the fire. This time, it didn't feel like judgment. Just warmth.

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