Pirates of the Caribbean Oneshots

Brethren Court (3) (Part 2)

He sat alone in the locked room, deep in the bowels of the remainder of what had been an impressive ship in it's heyday.

The Star of Madagascar had been the traditional lodgings of the Code Keeper in Shipwreck Cove for as long as anyone knew.

The ship now had no masts, and was in a bad state of disrepair. The roof of this room leaked in more than one place when it rained, and the floor was slowly rotting. The sparse furniture was mostly still usable, though the table was missing a leg, and two out of the four chairs had broken backs.

The ancient four-poster had no hangings, and creaked and groaned as it pleased.

It was where he now lay, stretched out on his back.

His dull eyes were fixed unseeingly on the ceiling, hands behind his head where it rested on a pillow with a satin cover.

One hand crept under the pillow as he heard footsteps approaching, gripping the handle of the pistol that lay on the mattress.

The door was tried, then someone knocked sharply.

"Who is it?" he called, voice rough from lack of sleep and the whiskey he'd been drinking.

"It's me. Don't give me shit, Edward. Just let me in."

With a sigh, he got to his feet and unlocked the door, opening it.

The woman who entered was cleanly and simply dressed, in a white shirt and clean breeches, her feet bare. A glint of gold was visible at her collarbone, half-hidden by her hair, but he knew what it was, as it was always there, around her neck, the pendant tucked out of sight between her breasts.

In her hands was a tray, upon which sat a steaming mug and half of some kind of pie.

She set it on the table, then faced him.
"You are going to eat that, then we are going to talk."

As she spoke, she wasn't looking him in the eyes, and he was carefully keeping his gaze averted from her face and hands.

His throat tight, he nodded and lifted his fork.

After the first bite, he realised how hungry he was, and had soon demolished the pie and emptied the mug of perfectly-brewed, sugary tea.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he leaned back in the chair, which gave an ominous creak under the shift of his weight.

"Now," he said slowly "ye wanted to talk?"

She ran a hand through her hair, then reached across the table, resting her fingers over his.

She did finally meet his eyes, and he saw the raw grief and pain flooding her hazel ones.

"I...I feel as though I have lost both of you," she began quietly. "You've been holed up here on the Star since the burial. I gave you time, thought you'd come to me when you were ready, and you didn't. I needed you, now more than ever. And I think you would find things easier if I was with you. Shutting everybody out is only going to make things worse."

A heavy sigh left his lips, dredged up from the very bottom of his chest.
"I'm sorry Asthore," he said quietly, "sorry for not being with you. Sorry for leavin' ye with an empty bed when ye probably want me in it more than ever. I've just been...I've been tryin' to...ah, feck it, doesn't matter what I've been doin'. I should've been more considerate."

She stood, crossing to wrap him in her arms. He gently returned the embrace, head resting in the crook of her neck as all attempts at composure suddenly abandoned him.

Sobs racked his frame, salty tears beginning to soak his wife's hair and shirt.

Her arms stayed strong and comforting even as she too let her emotions out in a storm upon his shoulder.

Neither knew how long they remained, grieving but supporting each other through it.

His sobs eventually died into sniffles, and, several moments later, she lifted her head off the wet patch on his shoulder.

He gently cupped her chin, his broad fingers wiping her tears away.

"We'll get through this together, and with our family. We have a little flock of Sparrows, a very stubborn Irishwoman, and her English housemate who need us, and we need them too."

A ghost of a smile touched her lips as she slipped her hand into his.

"I believe all those people are quite anxious to see you. Shall we?"

With a nod, he allowed himself to be led from his quarters.

It was time to start living again.

A/N
This is the follow up to the previous oneshot. I don't usually do this, but I thought the last story deserved it.