Chapter Text
He had outsmarted them which was a good thing as far as Silver’s own survival went, but he had also pissed them all off endlessly, which was not so good for his own survival.
Refusing to give them the final coordinates they needed to force them to keep him alive gave him a few weeks to figure out how to get out of it alive. A fanciful part of himself wanted to remind Flint of James, to get him to just let Silver go, but he knew that was a bigger risk than he was willing to take right now. That and he didn’t want this imposter living in James’ skin to remember Silver’s most vulnerable moments, they weren’t Flint’s to have.
But Silver had never been able to help himself. It was what got him into so much trouble all the time, though it had also forced him to develop a knack for getting back out of trouble.
“Well, that’s a few weeks from now, we might be friends by then.” Silver wasn’t entirely sure what possessed him to say it, some inane desire for it to be true probably, but that hardly mattered, what mattered was that it was cheeky and so hilariously unlikely that it made him look like an idiot.
This was going to be much easier if they thought he was an idiot.
Maybe it wouldn’t even matter if Flint did remember Silver in the end, because while he wasn’t James any more, Silver certainly wasn’t that helpless seventeen-year-old any more either.
Silver hadn’t been lying either; he was a hard person not to like. The veneer he had created of the charming chancer, the lovable rogue was one he had perfected over time and was quite deliberately likable. Likeable and just nonsensical enough that it never took people long to lower their guard around him.
But Silver somehow knew that it wasn’t going to work on Flint. That the only way he was going to get Flint to spare him once this was all over, was by making himself valuable to the captain. He could do that. What was harder to do was ignore the reality that the man that had once saved him was now the man most likely to kill him.
Silver pushed that thought aside, he was good at pushing things aside now.
He spent his time on the beach subtly getting a feel for the crew. Most of them were (entirely unsurprisingly) your standard crop of ignorant pirates, with a few notable exceptions. There was Randall, who was clearly mad but the crew liked him and Silver had a sinking suspicious knew that he was the thief. Billy had a good heart, which was somewhat incongruous given the company he kept and absolutely did not like Silver one bit (that would need to be changed). Gates was so loyal to Flint it concerned the rest of the crew, how far that loyalty would stretch Silver did not know nor care to find out. There was Dufrense, he was too easily overlooked, Silver did not like him.
Then there was Flint. He was entirely different from his crew and Silver would wager that they had no idea just how much. He didn’t need to ask to know that even Gates had no idea that Flint had once been an officer in the Royal Navy. Not that anyone would believe it, if they were told. It baffled Silver exactly how James had become Captain Flint, the most feared pirate in the world in just ten years.
Only the more he asked around, the more it became clear that it hadn’t been ten years, it had been less and it had been sudden. Captain Flint had just appeared one day, taking large prizes and terrorising English and Spanish vessels, terrorising any vessels that had the misfortune to cross his path.
Silver was able to draw only one conclusion from this; something had happened to make him hate his own country so viscerally that he turned from a loyal officer to a bane to the English fleet.
Silver could hardly fathom what could have happened to tear away James so completely and replace him with Flint.
Silver was sure that he had never hated England as much as he did in that moment.
Silver refocussed himself on the now and the immediate necessity to make Flint like him. He started by attempting to root out the remaining mutineers, he took the names to Billy. Billy remained stoic but Silver could tell that he’d made progress with the bosun.
Currently he had an entirely different dilemma though; that being that he had absolutely no idea how to cook a pig. How to cook anything really. And apparently he had given half the crew the shits. Admittedly that probably wasn’t winning him any points with them. Still, he was claiming he had been the ships cook so he should probably maintain he could cook and that therefore whatever illness the crew had contracted was entirely unconnected to him.
The last person he expected to come to his rescue was Flint.
Then he remembered that Flint needed the crew to believe he really was the cook, and it wasn’t so surprising any more.
“How exactly does the most feared captain of the high seas learn how to spice and glaze a pig?” Maybe he said it because it fit nicely with his cheeky façade, maybe he said it because he wanted to remind Flint of who he had been before, see some flicker of James in those eyes. Half the time Silver himself didn’t know the reasons he said the things he did to Flint.
He futilely forced thoughts of James out of his head once more.
“What do you care?”
A far more interesting question than Flint knew because he had no idea who Silver was.
Flint told him there was no ‘we’ that there never was going to be one either, and Silver couldn’t help but agree, it seemed to him that getting away from Flint and his crew as fast as possible was the best thing he could possibly do for the preservation of his own life and sanity.
So he really couldn’t explain why he then sat down and pressed for more conversation. He even told Flint to trust him, as if he would do such a stupid thing.
Silver turned his pig as instructed, and considered Flint from his vantage point by the spit. It was easy not to think of Flint as James, the differences between them were so stark, but it was hard not to compare them constantly in his head. Which was foolish really, he had barely known James after all, still Silver pondered what could have possibly happened to him.
Undeniably though, Flint was still attractive, albeit in a far more dangerous way than James had been. Silver got the feeling that stealing a kiss from Flint rather than James would be much like trying to take food from a shark; i.e. not advisable to people who wish to keep living. And Silver did very much intend to keep living.
He thought about it though, not really bothering to make an effort to stop himself now that people (including Flint) weren’t actively trying to kill him in the moment. Flint wouldn’t be gentle like he might have once been with Silver, a kiss he stole off a near-stranger ten years ago would be replaced, Silver imagined, with something that felt more like a fight than a kiss. By virtue of his own recklessness Silver hadn’t had many careful lovers (if you could call trysts in dark places lovers). Even those who were not interested in hurting him were rarely gentle. Silver always shrugged it off, he had found in his few experiences with gentleness that he preferred a rougher hand anyway; or at least that was what he told himself. Gentleness in dark alleys was unexpected, it didn’t belong there, and Silver was never sure how to react to it. Rough hands and quick pleasure was far easier to deal with.
He’d always imagined James would be gentle, but he was certain Flint wouldn’t be. Not with him anyway, not under these new circumstances. Gentle would require letting your guard down, and Silver could not imagine that now.
Flint looked over and caught his eye – caught him staring – so Silver gave him his most winning smile and Flint repaid him with a scowl as he turned back to his papers.
Five minutes later Flint came storming over (the part of Silver not so good at survival may have found it more attractive than any sane person would) and hissed at him that he was burning the pig.
“It’s not my fault, I was distracted.” Silver complained, but Flint clearly caught his meaning though his face remained stoic and irritated. It was a dangerous thing for him to say, all things considered, so much had changed about James that new hatreds may well have grown as well, so Silver carried on speaking before Flint could. “Besides, we’ve established I cannot cook a pig, you should have told me it was done.”
If it was possible, Flints’ expression grew even more irritated.
“Just take the fucking thing off the fire and serve it up.” Flint growled at him before turning on his heel and going back to his maps and papers again.
Silver was going to call that progress, after all, he didn’t get slammed up against any rocks this time.
(Not that he wouldn’t mind being slammed up against things in a different context, but that seemed rather unlikely at this juncture and quite possibly attempting to change that would prove a hindrance to plan ‘Stay Alive’.)
When the careening of the ship started to go disastrously wrong Silver threw Flint the cleaver but didn’t stick around to watch. For one potentially getting squashed by the ship was not something he wanted for himself, and for two a man get his leg cut off was not something he ever wanted to witness. It only occurred to him as Morley and Flint reappeared carrying the now one legged Randall that had he not given them the knife they might not have gotten out of there in time, and all his troubles would be over. Gates and Billy might also know but he was too slippery for them to be able to catch, and the Guthrie woman had her own problems to deal with.
Silver couldn’t find it in himself to regret it though, the thought of Flint getting crushed beneath a ship did not sit well in his stomach.
Later Flint returned the cleaver to him, both he and the cleaver still covered in Randall’s blood, Silver could tell something had shifted even before Flint asked him about what he had heard that night between Billy and Morley.
Silver wanted to ask about the woman, even more so when he saw the quiet expression on Flint’s face when he mentioned the woman. But Flint just turned and walked away and Silver had no choice but to let him.
It was getting dark by the time Silver was Flint again, and from the looks of him he had just received some rather bad news. He was also heading straight for Silver.
“What – hey! I haven’t done anything.” Silver protested as Flint grabbed him by the shoulder of his shirt and started dragging him bodily away from the beach. “Well, other than what you already know about of course.” Back on the beach Billy was shouting orders and two people were carrying Randall inland as well.
Flint only began to elaborate as he hauled Silver towards Eleanor Guthrie’s tavern.
“The Andromache is leaving without unloading her guns. We need them.”
“And that equals you manhandling me up the beach how?” Silver complained, not that he was trying to get out from Flint’s grip.
“You’re not coming with us, and I need to be sure you’re not going to run off.”
“I suppose I can’t fault you there, I absolutely would run off.” Silver agreed and he wasn’t sure if he imagined the quirk of Flint’s lips or not it was gone so fast.
Silver ended up handcuffed to Randall and discovered why Eleanor Guthrie hated him so much; she couldn’t handle her own guilt about what had happened to Max.
She was also losing control of the street, which made her dangerous. But he had perfected his silver tongue after all, he got her to lift the ban on Vane.
Apparently she thought she was the only person in the world who could dissuade Flint from killing him. Silver didn’t believe it, he had faith yet that he might be able to do that himself, more inclined to make himself useful to Flint instead of in debt to Eleanor; but he took her deal anyway, as an insurance policy, being in her good graces couldn’t hurt after all.
Flint returned with the guns – some of the guns at least – but without Billy. Flint seemed ever so slightly adrift to Silver, it made him wonder if he’d had anything to do with Billy’s accident, he got the feeling even Flint wasn’t sure.
Eleanor kept her word and put herself between him and Flint, though Silver had the sinking feeling that it had only served to undo some of the progress he had made with Flint himself. Any manipulations Silver employed where Flint was involved would clearly have to be far subtler in the future.
Silver resisted the urge to ask what had happened to Billy as Flint marched him back to the beach, but he could never abide silences when there were so many unknowns.
“So who is our new quartermaster?”
“You are not part of this crew.” Flint replied flatly, not pausing in his stride.
“You and I may know that, but as far as the rest of the crew believes, I am. And it is rather important to keep them thinking that way. So, for the sake of pretence let’s pretend I am.” Silver countered, he thought he wasn’t going to get an answer as Flint strode on in silence for a few paces.
“It’s Dufrense.” Flint’s voice betrayed nothing of what he thought about that, Silver however faltered in his tracks, then having to scurry to catch back up.
It was difficult to come up with a word that described Dufrense, he was intelligent but not in the way Silver or Flint were, not in the manipulative or scheming ways you needed to be to survive this life. No, he was a facts and numbers man, and one that had a pretty ironic moral high horse considering he was a fucking pirate just like the rest of them.
“I don’t like him. Don’t trust him.” Silver said before he thought properly, Flint barked out a laugh.
“You barely know him, and why would I give a shit about what you think anyway.” Flint replied, finally stopping his march and turning to face Silver, presumably so that they could finish their conversation before reaching earshot of the rest of the crew.
“Because I’m good at reading people. You know I am otherwise I’d be dead by now. I know people, and someone like Dufrense is dangerous.”
Flint studied Silver’s face inscrutably for a few long moments before speaking. “Go find the tent housing the supplies for the galley, make a list of what you need, then bring it to me so I know you’re not going to poison or starve us before we next make port.”
It had nothing to do with Dufrense directly, but Silver knew Flint had heeded his warning about him.
Randall. Fucking Randall. Silver was never going to write off his suspicions as paranoia ever again. He had known that Randall knew something from the start but he’d ignored it. He’d underestimated the threat Randall posed because he was mad, Silver knew better than that, hell he actively tried to get people to underestimate him all the time.
Dufrense, Dr. Howell and DeGroot now all knew and Silver had precisely no way of warning Flint. He would normally be solely worried about himself at this point and leave anyone else to fend for their own survival; but in this he and Flint were intertwined. Dufrense, Dr. Howell and DeGroot all saw it as both his and Flint’s crime, Silver had been the real thief but Flint had murdered Singleton for the crime. Dufrense was suggesting Flint had known Singleton did not have the page all along, that it was a convenient way to get rid of a potential usurper, Silver found himself wanting to say that wasn’t true, that Flint really did believe Singleton had it, but right now him and Flint appearing as a pair, a team in this crime, would only worsen their situation.
The three of them put him out of earshot when they realised he was listening, back in the tent with Randall, so Silver got to work.
He planted the seeds of doubt in Randall’s mind, easily done as they might very well be weighing up the pros and cons of killing Randall versus potentially losing the Urca, they were pirates after all, it was all too believable. A vast fortune versus a one legged cripple, unfortunately Randall was so dim Silver couldn’t be sure if his message had quite sunk in.
Their test was ridiculous and Silver felt a sudden urgency, trying to make a deal with Randall that would get him back on the ship and keep them both alive. He got through to him, apparently, Silver actually managed to find himself amused as Randall started randomly accusing everyone in the vicinity of being a thief.
The rush of adrenalin that always followed narrowly avoiding death was there, though it wasn’t as pronounced as it had been other times when he’d been considerably closer to the end. Normally that adrenalin would spur Silver into recklessly going and propositioning someone who hopefully wouldn’t mind being propositioned, but right now he neither had the time nor the freedom and was being corralled back onto the ship already. Probably for the best, lest he run into Flint and say something utterly stupid.
He did need to speak with the captain though. Silver had a feeling that no one was exactly going to fill him in that at least four more members of the crew knew Silver was the thief unless he did it himself. But unsurprisingly it was very difficult to find a plausible ruse that required him to see the captain, not to mention how hard it was likely to be to even get Flint to actually speak to him.
“’Ey, where do you think you’re going? Eyes on Randall all the time.” Logan yelled at him for what must have been the fifth time already, it was really beginning to piss Silver off.
“Look he’s eating an apple sat in his hammock, it’s not like he can go anywhere.” Silver pointed out, picking up the peg leg for the umpteenth time and throwing it back on Randall’s lap only for it to promptly hit the floor again as Randall pushed it off. “I’ll be ten minutes, maximum.” He had no idea how long he would be, he had no idea if the captain would even agree to see him.
He left before Logan could yell at him again, heading out of the hold and straight up towards the captain’s cabin, luckily Logan had enough jobs of his own that he couldn’t waste time chasing after him. Night was drawing steadily in and you’d have to be blind not to see and feel the large storm front headed towards them, Silver hated being on ships during storms.
Silver knocked on the door to the Captain’s cabin and didn’t wait for an answer before going in – no need to give Flint the opportunity to refuse him entry after all.
“What the fuck do you want.” Was the greeting he received as Flint glared up at him from his desk.
“Charming as ever I see.” Silver said as he sat down in the chair opposite Flint, much to the other man’s obvious displeasure. “We have a problem.”
“I’ve had nothing but since you showed up.”
“Now now that’s not strictly true is it. After all, if I hadn’t stolen that page you wouldn’t have had a nice convenient way to dispatch that rather troublesome Singleton fellow now would you?.” Silver asked smiling widely at Flint who looked like he was just barely restraining himself from punching him in the face, or worse.
“Get to the point.”
“Dufrense, Dr Howell and DeGroot all know I’m the thief.” Silver stated matter-of-factly, Flint shot out of his seat, fists clenched on the table top.
“How? And why aren’t you dead.”
“Apparently Randall wasn’t so out of it when I was locked in the room with the Guthrie woman, he overheard a little too much, decided to tell them all that I was the thief. As for why I’m not dead – and why you’re not too, they rather think we were in this together I’m afraid – well, that was relatively simple. It was easy to see that Randall’s accusation was prompted by his removal from the ship and my assumption of his old role, obviously he wanted me dead and his old position back. I pointed out to Randall that in the choice between a chance at a fortune and a half-witted cripple, he was just as likely to wind up the dead one as I was.
“They devised a test – an absurd test – where I was supposed to memories a page from one of the doctor’s manuals and recreate it from memory in five minutes; five minutes! I had three days to study the stolen page. I knew I would fail it so as they were examining my work I made a deal with Randall, I would offer to be responsible for him on the ship so that he could come back on board, if he withdrew his accusation. Not five minutes later he was accusing everyone in the tent of being the thief.” Silver preened as Flint looked grudgingly impressed, though he quickly schooled his face back into annoyance.
“Right. Get out.”
“What? No gratitude? No well done for averting that particular shit storm Mr Silver, no thank you for keeping me my captaincy again Mr Silver.”
“All you’ve done is postpone the problem. They’re not going to it us get away with it, they just want the Urca and its gold secured before they drag us out to answer for it.”
“I thought there was no us.” Silver replied sweetly, and he was surprised he didn’t get throttled from the look on Flint’s face.
“There isn’t.” Flint ground out. “But apparently the bunch of genius’ crewing this ship believes there is. Now get out.”
“But we need to strategize, come up with a plan to make sure we don’t end up dead once we’ve secured the gold.”
Flint just ignored him. It only took Silver a few moments to realise that that probably meant that Flint already had a plan for how he was going to survive it, and that there was, as he had said before, no we.
“There was one other thing.” Silver added as he stood from his chair, Flint didn’t bother looking up from his papers. “Dufrense knew I was the thief before Randall accused me. Now I can think of only of two people who could have told him, my money would be on Billy before he fell, but you know both him and Gates better than I.”
Flint didn’t acknowledge him but he stopped writing and held very still. Silver left him to his thoughts, there wasn’t much more he could do now. He would have to give up the coordinates in a few hours, he could only hope he’d done enough to prevent Flint from killing him on the spot.
The Urca wasn’t there. Silver knew his coordinates had been right but the chances of anyone believing him now was completely gone. He weighed up the merits of jumping off the ship and swimming to the bay. Maybe he could get enough of a head start that he’d get away.
Flint wasn’t James and Flint would absolutely kill him for lying this time. Silver had to harshly remind himself of that every so often.
But Flint didn’t come for him like Silver thought he would, and it took him a few minutes to realise why. The Urca wasn’t there, but Flint believed him. Silver shouldn’t let it, but the thought touched him. Even though Flint could obviously just see that there would be no point in Silver lying this long as he clearly had no escape plan, that his information had matched up with Flint’s possible bay’s, that Flint still wouldn’t lift a finger to actually save Silver. But still, the fact that Flint believed him made him warm, even though he shouldn’t let it.
Then a Spanish Man of War came into view and Silver realised what Flint must have. It was the Urca’s escort, she was around here somewhere.
Flint started shouting orders to prepare them to attack and Silver heard the discontent among the crew. They wanted to be taking a lightly defended treasure galleon, not a Man of War with one hundred guns.
Silver heard the words passing between DeGroot and Dufrense and knew he had to warn the James. Flint. He had to warn Flint.
Silver was not ready for what he saw when he ran back into the captain’ cabin.
Gates was dead, Flint was pointing a gun at him and Silver made a choice.
Really it was the only choice Silver was ever going to be able to make.
Flint looked so broken, like he couldn’t believe what he’d done, he wasn’t making any move to fix the situation, to make it survivable, so Silver would do it for him. He told himself and Flint that it was only because his survival relied on Flint’s, it made it easier.
“There’s no way out of this.”
“Take it from me, there’s always a way.”
Whatever Flint thought before, they were in it together now.