The Dimension of Imagination

Admittedly, Mr. Podmore felt weird coming out of his mouth… but was he supposed to first name Sturgis after he’d last named him? No. At least, he didn’t think so. Besides, they hadn’t seen each other in forever, and when they did, it was just in passing. Did that warrant formality, or did their friendship at Hogwarts negate that?

“I–” Did he just check him out? “Thank you, what have you been up to as of late?” He asked, trying to act normally. Not that he was very good at that anyway. 

“Right, yes, of course. That makes sense.” Obliviators would be busy right now, it really wasn’t that surprising to hear. “I get what you mean, though. I’ve been working most weekends lately, it’s my first day off in a while.” 

As the other’s smile changed, Elijah tried to keep his expression the same, before shrugging slightly. “Oh, I am. Just let me…” His attention moving back towards the bookshelf, he reached up and pulled down a copy of the book. “I doubt it would be very exciting for anyone not involved with dragons. What book are you here for?”

An eyebrow quirked at Elijah’s abandoned thought, a single syllable that could have gone anywhere but ended with a question that landed a little too close to “small talk” for Podmore’s liking. “Some of this, some of that,” he supplied, thoughts on the Order and how much of his quote-unquote freetime it consumed. The corner of his mouth kicked into a smirk, and he dared to expound, “I’ve been staying active, cardio, physical training, some… what do the muggles call it? Mixed martial arts.” His shoulders bounced. “What about you?”

Nodding, Sturgis sympathized with how much Eli was working. While his “days off” were reallocated for Order Business, Elijah seemed busy with actual work. And work with bloody dragons, no less. That was sure to take a toll on anyone. “You’re being sure to take care of yourself, yes?” There was an edge to his question that he had no right to. He knew he didn’t. He and Elijah Bones had a passing friendship at best, a near acquaintanceship at worst. He didn’t get to make demands like ‘You better be getting enough sleep’ or ‘Have you eaten today?’

He didn’t move to make room for Elijah as he reached for a book. SP stayed exactly where he was, smirking brightly as the other wizard pulled his desired book off of the shelf and proceeded to call it boring. “It’s about dragons. I very much doubt that,” he said, tone lower than he meant it to be. Peering into the warm, earthen depths of Elijah’s brown eyes, he heard himself say, “So much so, that I’d love to hear all about it. Over drinks. What are you doing tonight?”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think Father’s rules of punctuality would apply to elevensies with my brother.” Elijah pointed out, rolling his eyes at him in the process. “Maybe next time I will actually be late, then you’ll actually have something to complain about.” As he spoke, he lifted his cup, bringing it to his lips to sip once he was finished speaking.

The brunet deadpanned at what Edgar said next, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s not very nice.” He pointed out, leaning back in his seat and bringing the cup of tea with him. He needed the caffeine - though he wasn’t about to admit that to his brother. “Yes, I’m fine. Other than being insulted, I’ve been doing quite well.”

That wasn’t really true. His work was tiring - both mentally and physically. Wrangling creatures, especially dragons, wasn’t easy… and he had the singed robes to prove it. But this was the life he’d chosen, and he always knew it would be tiring. “How are you sleeping?” He countered, eyebrows raising as he took another sip of the tea.

Scoffing into his tea, Edgar quietly repeated, “Elevensies,” shaking his head before taking a sip of his tea. While Eli went on bemoaning Edgar not having anything to complain about, he set his cup down and leaned back in his seat, his smirk subtle as he arched his eyebrow into the same disapproving curve their father’s took when he was less than pleased with them. 

“You’re the middle child, Eli,” he observed, nonchalant as he watched the passersby for a moment before his gaze snapped back to his brother to deliver the rest. “It’s lucky I remember your name. Expecting me to be nice seems a little hopeful.” Edgar shed the notion with a shrug, but the amusement in his eyes betrayed the joke.

He wasn’t sure he believed his brother when he said he was doing well, but Edgar nodded and accepted it anyway. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he might have lost some weight since the last time he’d seen him, but Eli did look fine otherwise. They were both Bones’, so he didn’t expect Eli to tell him if he weren’t doing well, but he hoped he’d be able to spot the signs if that were the case. Since there was nothing he could say or do in this very moment, Edar let it go with a sigh. 

It was like the world around him had fallen away. He wasn’t ashamed of working on a pirate ship - of being a pirate, but he couldn’t help but worry about what Nick would think of it. How would he react? What would he think of him once he found out? Elijah’s plans were to become a physician, clearly Nick remembered that. 

As soon as Nicolas let go of him, Elijah immediately wanted to feel his touch again. He was circling him, and Elijah followed him with his gaze, quickly turning his head to look the other direction once he couldn’t see him over his shoulder anymore. “What are you doing?” He asked after a moment of hesitation, his mind racing. He didn’t have to go back to the ship until the next morning, leaving them with a bit of time - unless Nick had to go somewhere. Fuck, was this going to end in another goodbye, so soon?

Elijah had been baffled at Nick’s offer, all those years ago. Nick asked him to go with him, Elijah asked Nick to stay - and neither of them could say yes. They both had plans, had their lives paved out for them before they had a chance to decide anything for themselves. The sharp pain of leaving him had long since faded, replaced by a familiar, almost a fond, ache in his chest. 

He opened his mouth to speak again, but Nick’s timing was as good as ever - and before he could speak, his face was between Nicolas’ hands again, and Elijah found himself lost in his eyes once more. “I know.” He whispered, softly, as the other repeated his words. It took a moment, however, for him to realize what he said. Tortuga. They were in Tortuga. “What are you doing here?” He asked after that realization hit him full throttle. What would Nicolas Dábalos be doing in Tortuga?

Then it hit him. 

“Were you a pirate that whole time?” He blurted out, the realization dawning on him only a split second before he asked the question. “You mentioned ships, I just thought… I had family in the navy, so I assumed…” He sputtered, mind going a mile a minute. Had they really both ended up as pirates, after all this time? What were the chances of that?

All of this, without letting his gaze leave his eyes. He couldn’t do it - couldn’t let himself look away. If he did, he might disappear, and reveal itself to be some cruel dream that he was going to wake up from. “You have…” He trailed off before he could finish hesitating. Normally, he might question it, but not with Nick. He let him kiss the centre of his palm, before taking his hand, though he still couldn’t let his eyes wander: they were still flicking between both of Nick’s. “Alright.” He said with a small nod, taking a step to follow him towards the inn.

- Elijah’s question, his realization, drew a laugh from deep in the pit of Nicolas’ lungs. His nod was as deep as his grin was playful. “I was,” he confessed, then added, “I am.”

For obvious reasons, his true identity had been falsified by forged documents and large bribes. His father had wanted an educated scion, a learned Pirate Prince to inherit his fleet and legacy, and manage both with a modicum of competence. As fate would have it, he needn’t have bothered. Feliciano “Lobo Marino” Dábalos’ body had still been warm when his captaincy had been usurped. Nicolas’ future, his fortune, his birthright had been stolen from him. And he’d been a drifter ever since. 

“Well,” he said, grinning broadly, “the only difference between a merchant fleet and a pirate one is acquisition and taxability.” It was horse shit and he knew it, but the lie had been necessary. Nick had trusted Eli with his life, with his heart —foolishly, perhaps, he still did— but it wasn’t just his life and heart that would have been lost if he’d misjudged. 

He’d lost everything anyway, but at least he had never seen his father hang for his own foolishness.

The relief that washed over him when Elijah agreed to come with him was unexpected. Much had changed within the decade between them. It would have been reasonable for Eli to decline his proposition, to reject him altogether. Some self-preserving part of him had been braced for it. Eli’s quiet, yet certain, ‘All right’ snatched the breath from his throat and left him brimming with excitement. Nick tugged on his arm, walking backwards so as to not break his gaze as they made for the inn that was home for the night. 

It took nearly tripping over a drunkard for him to decide to walk normally. Still not letting go of Eli’s hand, he walked them up the block to the as-sturdy-as-far-as-ramshackle-inns-go building, and up two flights of stairs. His door sat between the moans and creaks of occupied rooms, and, for some reason, the sound of vocal and enthusiastic lovemaking sparked an ember of nerves within him. 

Since boarding school, Elijah had been with other men. Not many, but they happened. They were all quick, emotionless - just enough to feel something, before going back to his life of hiding. One of the men actually lived a couple blocks down from his father’s medical practice, it had been out of convenience… but none of them had been like Nicolas. He wasn’t sure if it was that they started as friends, and got to know each other that way, or if it was just something about the other, but it’d been different. 

The sound of his laugh hadn’t changed, nor had the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Elijah quickly picked these things up, as Nicolas was moving towards him and grabbed him by the shoulders. Meanwhile, all he could do was gawk at the man he’d loved so dearly, all those years ago. He opened his mouth to answer the question, but before he could get any words out, Nick moved his hands up to either side of his face. The breath caught in Elijah’s throat, and he nodded slightly. “I– yes, I did. Briefly,” was all he could muster. How was it that it had been ten years since they’d seen each other, and Nick could still elicit such a response from him?

It wasn’t until Nick pulled away that Elijah felt like he could breathe again. But, already, he felt himself longing to be back in his embrace. “Certainly I’ve got more colour than I did in school.” He admitted with a bit of a laugh, trying to get himself to calm down. Nick had more colour to him than he remembered as well - although, he’d always come back from summer breaks darker than when he left. He was sure Nick’s thoughts weren’t whirring by the same way his were, and even more sure that Nick’s heart was going at a normal pace. Obviously, Elijah was overreacting to seeing him again.

He’d just managed to convince himself that he was being silly, that the feeling in his chest was something he was imagining - until, of course, Nick returned his hands to his face, and all that emotion started stirring once more. “I’m… a surgeon, on a ship.” He admitted, voice softer than before. “I can’t believe you’re here.” Even softer, then, as his own hand raised to cover one of Nick’s.

Briefly. Ten years stretched like a lifetime between them, and all Elijah could muster was a tight, ’Yes, I did. Briefly’? If Nicolas wasn’t so overcome by all that had changed, yet remained painfully the same, about his first love he might have nettled him for a better answer. As it was, it was all he could do to not use his grip on Eli’s face to pull him into a kiss. His blood sang with longing, to feel those once familiar lips under his, dive his tongue past their softness to reclaim every second of the time they’d lost.

But he let him go instead. Nicolas circled around Eli, his grin wide, his eyes alight with the same playfulness Elijah had always provoked in him. It was Elijah fucking Bones. His long lost love. Except he’d never been lost. He’d been in London, content to bury himself in books and work, and pretend that there was a sliver of happiness to be found somewhere he would never be safe to be his truest self.

"Leave with me."

"Where to?"

"Anywhere. I happen to know that Panama is beautiful this time of year. I think you would enjoy it."

"Wait, really?"

“Yes, really. My father has a fleet of ships. I can take us anywhere.”

"I... I can't just go, my parents... I have to go to medical school."

He thought he would have to go the rest of his life with just the memory of him. Of them. But here he was, in Tortuga, not looking anywhere near as lost as Elijah fucking Bones should look in the epicenter of a pirate port. Heart thrashing against his breastbone, Nick’s appraising circuit around him ended with Eli’s face between his hands again. His gaze jumped between his eyes, searching them for an explanation that Elijah was slow to give. 

“A surgeon,” he repeated a little breathlessly. “On a ship. Here in Tortuga. Elijah…” Nicolas shook his head, incredulous, dumbfounded, unable to string together a thought, much less give it voice. A hand moulded to his cheek, and the feeling of calluses where soft skin had once been served to ground him better than anything else could have. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he replied in turn, a laugh in his voice that dripped with disbelief. “Eli—” Nicolas cut himself off, unsure how to even finish the thought, there were simply too many. Too many questions, too much time to cover. And this wasn’t the place for that conversation. 

Catching the orders and the bustling traffic of the bakery, Molly was happy to be a whirlwind of energy. Frankly, she preferred the bustle over sitting and worrying and fretting over something she couldn’t stop because some damned fools wouldn’t let her take the lead. That was the Prewett way, trying to fix things quickly and cleverly. It was the Molly way to do so without letting anyone get a word in edgewise.

Case in point was how Edgar was forced to make the change, nudge folks along at the till while she had pots and pans and utensils going wild in the kitchen as she added, mixed, removed, and whatever else needed to make the baked goods. He couldn’t bake to save his life, bless him, at least not in her opinion, and that warranted more a money-handling position if he were so unlucky to visit at busy times. She was pretty sure the banana bread he’d attempted to make had actually grown legs and was living in Essex.

Caught in her own moment of making a list of what still needed to be refilled, what to wipe down, who had special orders at the moment, Molly let out a very undignified squeak at the sudden bump and near-collision with the floor. It and the accompanying glare shifted immediately to a laugh and beam at the tall mass of muscle and adorableness beside her. “You’d miss me if I’d ever calm down and we both know it,” she challenged with an affectionate pat on his cheek, although she had to go on tiptoes for the act. “Now come on, take a seat and I’ll get you a decent meal since you did so well.”

A small, warm hand patted his cheek and his eyes squinted like he was considering, like he might argue his missing her. Grin unravelling across his mouth, Edgar hooked an arm around Molly’s neck to yank her into his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before ruffling the silky, copper strands. “You know I wouldn’t have you any other way, Prewett.”

Not needing to be told twice, Edgar reclaimed his previously abandoned spot and sank into his seat with a huff. “I don’t know how you do it, Mols,” he said, “I think I said ‘good morning’ to more people today than I ever have in my entire life.” Strangers wouldn’t call Edgar friendly, exactly, but he was sociable when he needed to be. Working the till made it perfectly clear that he was better off hunting dark wizards. 

Another day of work had come and gone. Even though Amelia had been interning for the Ministry for a while now, she still hadn’t been given the opportunity to take a full time position at the Ministry of Magic. Unfortunately that meant having to spend another year away in Hogsmeade, assisting the aurors stationed there. It wasn’t a tedious job, but it was definitely leaving her restless and wanting to break away from her routine.

Finding a plan b was what she was thinking about before an arm wrapped around her neck, making her jump. The man didn’t let go and her panic was about to get the best of her up until she felt her hair getting mussed. “UGh Ed, get off me!” She whined, poking his side with the wand she had been tightly holding onto. “How many times must I tell you that just because you are taller than me doesn’t give you the right to come at me like that! What are we, seven?” She complained some more before managing to straighten herself. “I’m going home you big idiot, didn’t think I needed supervision for that.”

-

Laughing at the wandtip jabbing into his side, he dodged as best he could without releasing his sister. With nearly ten years between them, Edgar was both protector and tormentor to Amelia. He loved his sister, would do anything for her, annoying the everloving shite out of her was just a brotherly obligation he was contractually obligated to fulfill. There was a quarterly quota, and he’d never fallen short of it.

“Being your older brother gives me the right,” he rebuked through gnashed teeth and a grin, keeping her pinned for another few seconds before finally letting her wriggle loose. After a dismissive pfft sound, Edgar observed, “You weren’t even born when I was seven,” then sighed a wistful exhale. “Oh, to be an only child again.” A nudge of his elbow into her side indicated that he was only teasing. He wouldn’t trade either of his siblings for the world. 

“Come on, mate!” Frank groaned at his friend’s words, even if the other was right. He had been exhausted after another long shift at work, yet he was still more than willing to hang out with his friends- especially when it came to Edgar. Picking up the pint, he raised it at Edgar in return before downing a large portion of it, the drink almost immediately replenishing his battery.

Giving himself a moment or two to really recover from the drink, Frank mustered up a smile, feeling a little more relaxed now that his friend was in front of him. He had been planning to spend the evening on his own, just getting lost in his own thoughts, but this was definitely far better. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He brushed it off. “Work’s been interesting lately, but nothing I should be complaining about, you know.” He finally grinned then. “Can’t it be both then? You’re meaning to tell me that’s not the place you do most of your thinking?”

-

An eyebrow hooked toward his hairline at Frank’s ‘I’m fine’, doubt in its arch, though he didn’t say anything to argue the words. As a junior Auror at the time, Edgar had mentored Frank through some of his own Auror training. They’d been fast friends, close enough that Edgar knew when to push. If something was weighing on Frank’s mind, he’d divulge it if and when he was ready.

Nodding sagely, Edgar agreed, “Interesting is putting it mildly. Nothing like a war to put our department through its paces.” That wasn’t even taking into account their duties with the Order. He made a face before taking another long, much needed drink of ale. 

Elijah really needed to visit the apothecary. Really, he would have preferred it if they docked somewhere other than Tortuga, there was less a chance that he would be buying fake product… but he would just have to examine it all a little closer. He really needed to restock the ship, and he assured Felix that he could take care of it himself this time. 

By the time he was done at the apothecary, he had managed to get everything he needed, and even managed to talk down the price a bit. It was still overpriced, he was sure of it - especially since it was likely stolen goods. But, no matter, he had it now. Now he just had to head back to the ship and drop it off. The brunet headed back towards the direction of the docks, eyes scanning the streets as he went. 

The streets were full of unfamiliar faces. The faces he did recognize were all only vaguely familiar, like he may have seen them in passing once before, but that was it. Until, of course, he heard his name, and his gaze moved in the direction of the voice. Immediately, Elijah froze, blinking a few times with his mouth hanging slightly agape.

“Nick?” He asked first, almost forgetting where they were for a moment. “Why are you– what are you doing here?”

He couldn’t believe it. Elijah fucking Bones. After all these years, all the joys and disappointments, and heartache between, Elijah Bones was standing before him. In Tortuga of all places. Nicolas’ brain couldn’t process the image, couldn’t make sense of the hard lines of the man he’d once known better than himself. They’d been children. The thought struck him like lightning, a sudden and fleeting jolt of recollection of the boys they’d been compared to the man Elijah had become.

Nicolas came back to himself in a flash, shaking off the shock to launch himself at his old friend. Laughing, he splashed through a puddle of nondescript fluid and grabbed Eli by the shoulders. “What am I doing here?” Another laugh burst out of him. His grin was wide and unwavering as his hands left his shoulders to bracket his face. “What are you doing here? Last I heard, you were joining your father’s medical practice.”

Unable to shove his grin or elation to the wayside, when Nick let go of Elijah’s face it was to circle around him. “You’ve got some color to you, Bones. You look good.” He stopped in front of Eli again, head shaking in small, incredulous sweeps, blinking away his disbelief, only to blink harder as shock dissipated enough for sense to shine through. 

-

Elijah hadn’t had a proper day off in a long time. Even on his weekends, it felt like he was constantly running around on ministry business - one weekend there was a dragon he had to help wrangle, another there was a hippogriff who escaped, and, most recently, an infestation of bowtruckles in a muggle neighbourhood (which the muggles thought were just large grasshoppers, by the time the obliviator was done). Bowtruckles weren’t exactly in his department, but they were shortstaffed. War had a tendency of doing that.

So, now that he finally had a day where he wasn’t being asked to go in, he was glad to be able to relax - even get a cuppa with his brother. As he arrived at the café, he spotted Edgar at a table, but got himself a drink before heading towards him. “I’m late!?” He asked once he was close enough, quickly setting down his cup before looking at his watch. “Why do you lie to me?” He complained after a brief pause, finally sitting down. 

“You know how father feels about punctuality,” replied Edgar as his brother settled into the seat across from him. “If you’re on time you’re late. And you, brother mine, are,” he checked his watch, “exactly on time.” Edgar shook his head with the same disapproval as the tsk’s that accompanied it.

Fag pinched between his knuckles, he folded the Daily Prophet and set the paper aside, glad for the excuse to put it and its news out of mind. Nodding at Elijah, Edgar stated, “You look like shite,” and lifted his cigarette back to his mouth for another drag while eyeing his brother in a critical up and down. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”

-

It was nice, having a day to himself. Well, not entirely to himself - he did spend a chunk of his morning getting a cuppa with Edgar, but now he was able to just do whatever he wanted the rest of the day. He had things he had to pick up for work, but he was going to do his darndest not to think about that: he would pick them up when he was on shift. That’s what his boss told him to do - pick them up on your way in to work on Monday, just come in late once you’re done. He couldn’t help but think about what a waste it was, since he was already in town where all the things were… but he was really trying to let this actually be a day off.

As he wandered through town, his eyes landed on the bookstore. His eyes lit up as he saw the window, and realized a new book he’d been waiting for was finally released. He was awful with remembering dates, so it was no wonder he forgot - but as soon as he noticed, he knew he had to go inside and get a copy. Heading inside, he walked right for the section on creatures and beasts, spotting the display he needed. He reached for the book, only to stumble a bit as someone bumped into him.

“Sorry–” He said quickly, eyes darting up to see who it was - only for his eyes to land on Sturgis Podmore. He blinked a couple of times, certainly not having expected to see him in the creatures and beasts section. “Mister Podmore.” He echoed the other, a smile coming to his face. “I’m doing well, just busy - how about you?”

The sight of Elijah’s smile brought a similar one to the fore. Normally, he didn’t mind being called ‘Mister Podmore,’ not when it came to strangers or colleagues, but there was something inexplicably wrong in Elijah calling him it. Since he’d started it, he wouldn’t correct him until the next time, but SP wasn’t fond of the formality between them.

“That’s good,” he replied, grinning broadly. Sturgis gave him a quick up and down, and was still smiling when he met Eli’s gaze again. “You look like you’re doing well.” 

Question thrown back his way, Sturg’s shoulders lifted in a placid shrug. “Also busy,” he said. “With everything going on, we Obliviators are being put to task. Don’t know when my last true day off was, but we make the most of the time we have, eh?” 

It was busy, but it usually was when school was just about to start. If she remembered right, there was a week left? The kids, they seemed ready to burst from either trying to keep the days lasting longer or from sheer boredom. Casey opted to not think about the fact that she had been just like them not so long ago; she had enough on her plate and calling herself older wasn’t going to fit.

“Tommy Olsen, if you reach past the counter again, your mother won’t be your biggest worry,” she warned without looking away from the soda she was refilling at the fountain. The teenager, skinny and all one hundred fifty pounds of trouble, made a face and tried again. “You know I have her on speed dial, right?”

That was enough, and the spatula that smacked his knuckles, to have him stop the attempt - at least until she left the counter. He blushed when she smiled at him and passed him the refilled soda - and a plate of nachos he had been trying to nab, extra cheese with sliced jalepeños. He needed more meat on his bones.

She also slid him a job application form since he was just on the cusp of eighteen and could use some cash if he kept eying his redheaded classmate.

She wanted more than anything to just help. In some ways, it kept her soul full and she enjoyed the good karma. Lately, though, it was a distraction. A means of ignoring the heartache she kept behind closed doors and in a broken heart shut away for fear or self-preservation. Definitely a way to give her time to think about the life growing inside her.

Because the timing of her life was just so incredible, the wave of slight nausea hit just as a familiar voice cut through the din of the alley - and cut her heart a little deeper. For that, for her wounded pride, temper rose in her eyes and flashed the blue a little darker. A slow, even breath taken, she kept her back to Perry and bent to heft buckets of quarters into the wagon. “I’m going to the arcade,” she told the other counter worker, one who was glaring daggers at Perry and started to pull the wagon in that direction, pausing to give her ex-boyfriend a look over her shoulder. “Well, come on then.”

Though Casey kept her back to him, Perry could feel her employee’s glare boring a hole right through the middle of his forehead. If looks could kill, their’s would’ve been a headshot. Dylan, the twenty-something punk rocker with the same opinion of the government that they had on the westernized construct of gender, clearly had some feelings about his and Casey’s breakup. He wasn’t cocky or delusional enough to think that getting Casey back was going to be easy, but, as difficult as that was going to be, getting everyone who loved her to like him again was going to be a Tom Cruise scale mission impossible.

One apology at a time, that was how he was going to get through this. And the person he needed to apologize to most couldn’t even look at him. He swallowed down a sigh. 

Casey left the concession counter, and Perry was quick to follow her before Dylan thought of creative uses for the tongs they were white knuckling. The departing nod he shot them earned a dagger sharp glare, and he turned away from their double birds to refocus on his ex. Snapping his gaze up from the sway of her hips, he hurried his strides so he could keep pace with her as they walked. 

“Listen, Case—” He cut himself off, not knowing what he was going to say. He’d practiced this speech a thousand times, had imagined it going a thousand different ways, but now that he was here, with her, words eluded him. Raking his fingers through his hair, he cursed at himself, both past and present, for being a complete fucking idiot. 

Hogsmeade was far different from London. Trips to the village during her Hogwarts years had been enjoyable but she had never actually expected to live there. Something about the hustle of the city was far more appealing to Safiye to the quietness of Hogsmeade. It also didn’t help that once September 1st came around, the village would be packed on the weekends with boisterous students.

When she locked up at Gladrags Wizardwear, she decided it would be best to spend some time at the Three Broomsticks for a drink, figuring she could find something fun to do with herself. Or someone fun, as tended to happen. Anything that was an enjoyable distraction for what she knew was going on in their world.

Slipping into the pub, she was rather pleased to see a familiar figure. They had spent plenty of time together after running into each other in London and now here they both were. Safiye slid into the seat next to Edgar with a smile on her lips. “Now don’t tell me you’re going to run out on me so soon.”

Turning his gaze away from Rosmerta as someone slid into the seat beside his, a smirk eased its way onto his mouth at the familiar sight that greeted him. Something in his chest stuttered, his pulse catching at the sight of that smile, and the mischievous twinkle in those big brown eyes. Alright, Universe, he thought to himself, I’ll stay put.

“Run out on you,” he replied, eyebrows raised in feigned demurral. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Miss Tekin.” Edgar’s grin belied his words, despite the truth in them. He’d been waiting for a reason to not throw himself at the Order for a few more hours. And here she was.

When he felt the urge to give her a once over, he didn’t resist it. Edgar took in the sight of her, the corner of his mouth pulling as his gaze darkened. They’ve been here before, making small talk over drinks, pretending that they weren’t imagining each other naked, acting like the pull between them wouldn’t have him in her bed before the night was through. 

At a younger age, Viola never would have imagined being someone who strayed from her partner. Their husband had been, for the longest time, the only person she had ever loved, having known each other their entire lives. They were childhood sweethearts who, admittedly, married most likely because it seemed like the correct next step. Not that there wasn’t love, of course, but it was just what was expected of them.

After their marriage, Viola made a name for herself as a model, appearing on billboards throughout Atlantis. It showed them a new and exciting vision of life and a completely different side of her husband. One that was jealous, clearly, but accepting of her new career path. But all it did was show her how bored she was being married to him but it was love that kept them married. It was only when she met Marcellus that she even entertained the idea of cheating, and she never looked back after the first time.

The move to having their own place together, away from her husband and the rest of Marcellus’ life made Viola’s heart flutter. There was no denying that they held true feelings for the man she was cheating with and she didn’t hesitate to spend time at their home when her husband was busy. After all, he had his own little affairs and just thought she didn’t know.

When they got the text message, she didn’t respond, just waited for him on the couch. A smile spread on Viola’s face as the door opened. “Heard you were hungry?” she asked, laughing. 

Her voice was like silk or honey, or dawn, or whatever poetic nonsense brought soft, lovely things to mind. It was strange, considering the force of nature they were. Vi brought men and women alike to their knees, but had the kind of disarming voice that made even a seasoned veteran like him relax his shoulders. Warmth detonated in the center of his chest at the sound of it, and radiated outward as he shut the door behind him, his gaze on the beauty grinning at him from the couch. 

Returning her smile with a coquettish upturn of his lips, Marcellus locked the door as he mused, “I think the word I used was ‘starving’.” 

Though everything in him screamed for him to go to them, take their face in his hands, and kiss them with every drop of longing he’d amassed since their last meeting, he took his time doffing the day from his person. His keys were dropped into a decorative bowl, his leather jacket added to the coat rack, his boots toed off and stashed on the rack in the closet by the door. And he didn’t take his eyes off of her for a second all the while. 

When the weather was nice Theo often took his lunch in the park, a habit that he had picked up from back in London when you had to seize the good weather when it appeared. He had finished the pesto pasta salad he had chosen for the day and was sipping quietly at a takeaway cup of coffee when the figure’s shadow passed over him.

“No, go ahead mate,” he quickly answered, gesturing to the space beside him. After all, the bench was big enough to fit several people. For a few moments he was quiet, mulling over the thought that had caught his attention that day, until he glanced back at the man. “Hey, can I ask you a question?” 

-

“Thanks,” he said, dropping onto the bench with a sigh, slumping into the seat with a groan. Perron nodded his appreciation at the man on the other side of the bench before moving his attention onto the passersby. Someone was playing fetch with their dog, and the delighted cries of kids racing on bikes competed with a stereo. He was somehow aware of and blind to all of it, too lost to his own thoughts to appreciate the day the same way the other parkgoers were. 

He’d been in Tortuga for a few days now. When his last crew had boarded the ship and left the harbor, Nicolas stayed behind. It hadn’t been a good fit. He had been born into this life, had been raised in piracy, and he knew that there was more to it than pillaging, plundering, and storm chasing his way to riches. His last ship had been lacking in the ‘more’ that he wanted out of this life.

Shouldering his way to the bar, Nicolas motioned for the barkeep and shouted his drink order over the ruckus. Ale sloshed over the rim of his cup and he slid a coin across the bar with a nod and wink. He turned away from the bar and scanned the crowd, then had to do a double take at the sight of a familiar profile. A grin unravelled over his mouth, and Nicolas swaggered over to the indomitable woman holding court at the table with the best vantage point.  

Tortuga was the riot of fighting and fucking it always was. Music poured loudly out of brothel doors, along with the brawling pirates Nicolas expertly navigated around. He tipped his hat to one of the girls, who blew him a kiss and crooked a finger in invitation. While he did have time for a tumble, he wasn’t quite in the mood to get naked with a stranger. Not one he had to pay for, at least. 

Nicolas loved Tortuga, loved the energy of it, the debauchery and how alive it all felt and made him feel. His visits had increased since his father’s death, since that usurping bastard, Redwaters, took his blood right and left him stranded. He’d flown under a few different flags since then, but tonight things had finally made a turn for the better. The winds were changing, and his luck along with it. 

Looking up from the puddle of piss and rain water, he froze in his tracks. His eyes shot wide and his heart stumbled along his ribs. Nicolas was scared to blink, was scared to breathe, like the slightest movement would shatter the vision and would disperse the ghost with the next breeze.

It was a nice day. The sun was out, birds were chirping, an ice cream truck’s trill was chased by the laughter of children, and Perry was tired. He’d already lost count of the amount of coffee he’d consumed today, and it hadn’t made a dent in the bone-wary exhaustion he’d felt since moving back into town. If he could just work things out with Casey…