#madisilver

Silver & Max in XXXVI —

26 October: “Where are you?”

Madi & Flint (Madisilverflinthamilton)

There was a kind of treachery in autumn that Madi couldn't help but resent. It was not only that she missed her mother, the island, her oldest friends, and the breezes that blew warm and fragrant with salt most months of the year. The whole season of autumn in England (she huffed a little to even think the word) seemed to conspire against her, with its creeping frosts portending bitterer winter days to come, leaves slick with rain and slugs clogging every path, and villainous acorns underfoot from first step out of the cottage all the way to the main road, where, if she were lucky, the dirt had been tamped down by passing foot traffic and not churned to mud by wheels.

It didn't help that low clouds had rolled in a week ago and kept being replaced by other clouds, curtains of them blotting out much of the sun and making the mornings, in particular, dim and flat and cold. Beyond the cottage kitchen's single pane of fogged and uneven glass, dawn seemed wearyingly glum. She finished her mug of lukewarm tea and, refusing to groan, rose from the small table near the door to begin her chores. She needed to go to town to purchase some spices, more tea, maybe a wedge of cheese or a week's worth of pickled-salted herring (not her favorite, but she had learned to adapt) traded for some fresh eggs. 

She did not expect to find James awake yet, not when he had been up hours into the night reading the household's most recently procured book (of Mr. Pope's parodic poetry, which she was anxious to discuss with him, by which she meant she had hated it and wanted someone to know how much) by the light of a single smoking candle. Madi came as quietly into the bedroom as she knew how to and stopped at the sight of him sitting on the edge of the bed, looking out another window as unhelpful here as the one in the kitchen. It was his posture that made her pause -- the way his right shoulder dipped ever so slightly forward like he were being bent beneath some invisible boulder. She didn't stomp into the room, clear her throat, or knock her knuckles against the paneling, but it seemed likely he would hear her approach.

He made no sound or movement to indicate his attention, however, and she was able to walk right up beside him and follow his line of sight out into the yard. She and he observed the chickens scritching placidly for spiders for what seemed to Madi to be an unnecessarily long stretch of time.

"Where are you?" she murmured, and James startled like she'd struck him with a mallet. 

"Jesus," he gasped, eyes almost wild. 

"I am sorry," she quickly said. "I did not mean to scare you." She touched his chin. "Are you well?"

He ran a hand over his face and exhaled like he'd been in the midst of a violent battle. "I'm fine." He gave her a sheepish smile. "Good morning."

"Good morning," she repeated back.

He was peering out the window again. From his particular angle on the bed, she noticed, he could see the stones that wound 'round and through the gated yard, from the street up to the door. 

James saw her seeing them. "You sounded just like him," he said, "when you spoke."

She looked at him with sharpened eyes. "John is fond of telling us we sound alike." She relaxed her stance a little. "My voice is not so deep as his, though; I do think you are mistaken on that matter."

He scratched at his beard. "Perhaps." 

"I think you'll find I sound more like Thomas," Madi offered, then thought better of it. "No. Never mind. I would rather not." At James's raised eyebrow, she said, "When they have returned, he will wish to discuss that odious book you were devouring last night, which he clearly enjoyed, and I will have to mount an impassioned dissent, which he will enjoy much more. Far too much."

"Silver, on the other hand, will just tell him to shut the fuck up." Flint sounded fond and a little wistful, his eyes trailing back to the stones outside.

She sat down heavily beside him and took his left hand, chafing it between both of hers. "They will be home soon."

"Not for a week or more. Most likely."

The matter of factness in his voice seemed harder to bear, somehow, than a more plaintive tone would have been.

"Soon enough," she said, squeezing his hand.

He squeezed back. After a moment, he said, "I'm sorry you are unhappy this time of year." 

"I am not unhappy, James." Madi sighed. "I will get used to the cold weather."

"I haven't, and I've lived in England most of my life, all told." He matched her sigh. "Fucking England," he said irritably.

His face pinched with annoyance made her snort. "Fucking England." 

James smiled as he bumped his shoulder against hers. He kissed the side of her head. Together they watched stubborn sunlight break through a few clouds. Neither of them mentioned John or Thomas again for the rest of the day.

__________________________

Chapters: 1/1. Word Count: 1.9k. Rating: Teen. Fandom: Black Sails. Characters: James Flint, Madi, John Silver (mentioned). Relationships: James Flint & Madi, John Silver/Madi, James Flint/John Silver, James Flint/John Silver/Madi. Tags: Temporary Character Death, Season/Series 04, Canon Compliant, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Requited Unrequited Love.

Content Warnings: spoilers up to 4x02; (presumed) death; drowning imagery; grief; mentions of war, injury, and insanity; both romantic Madi/Silver and romantic Silver/Flint.

Summary:

“The bay isn’t visible from the rebel encampment, but he faces it as surely as a compass points north. Up on the fort, Flint stands with his back straight and his shoulders set, his hands folded neatly behind him. He stands there as though, if he simply waits long enough, if he hopes hard enough, the sea will return John Silver to him.”