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He was in that room again. The paint was peeling and the men were shouting. The table he was on was hard against his back. There were hands on him, faces above him, bodies surrounding him. Vane’s men were sneering at him, yelling at him, laughing at him. He couldn’t move. They held him down; forcing his back to the table they had cleared. He begged them to let them go. They just laughed. It was as if they couldn’t hear him, his screams his pleas.
‘Please.’ He begged, his voice was hoarse. ‘Please, don’t do this!!’ He pleaded, but the man grinned, and brought the blunt edge of the axe down on his leg.
For a split second, he felt nothing, and then, as if hit by a sledgehammer, the pain was there and he screamed, desperately trying to escape the hands of the men holding him. He thrashed under their grips, twisting this way and that, desperate to escape, but His tormenter grinned again, and brought the weapon down again and again, and again. Yelling the word ‘NAMES’ over and over again. But John couldn’t remember anymore. All he knew was that he couldn’t say the names, no names, no names, no names.
It wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop. The pain became agony, it became more. The axe kept coming, and John kept screaming, screaming, screaming—
‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!” He yelled, bolting upright in the bed, his chest heaving and his heart racing. He felt hands fly to his chest, patting him trying to push him back down. He couldn’t be restricted again. He yelled.
“No! Not again! Not again! Please!!!” He felt those hands retract and instead, a face came into his view. It wasn’t vicious, it was gentle. But that didn’t make sence, they were laughing at him holding him down. But this face was soft, this face was “Madi.” He breathed, his surroundings coming back to him. There were no men beating him no axes.
But then why did his leg still hurt? It throbbed in time with his racing heart, but there was no leg to feel pain.
“Madi.” He wailed, unable to understand why it still hurt.
“Yes, John. It’s me.” She said, smiling slightly. “Do you know where you are?” She asked, looking into his tumultuous gray eyes.
“I’m in our bed. Madi, it hurts.”
“I know John, I know. It’s okay.” She said, pulling him close.
“It hurts. It hurts.” He wailed, rocking back and forth in her arms. “Where’s Flint?” He asked, desperate for more comfort.
“Right here.” Flint said, appearing in the doorway with a bottle of rum and three glasses. Madi scowled lightly at the cargo, but didn’t comment, knowing that it was exactly what John wanted. “And not going anywhere.” He said, climbing onto the bed to be with his lovers.
“Flint it hurts.” John said, unable to make the pain go away. Flint sighed, and nodded to Madi. Madi held John, rocking him back and forth while Flint began to massage the stump of John’s leg, kneading the muscle and loosening the tension gathered there.
“Better?” He asked, looking up at John. He still looked frayed but at least he wasn’t in pain anymore.
“I’m sorry I made such a fuss. Did I wake you two?” John asked, sounding so very small as he looked at the two of them from tired eyes. Madi and Flint shared a look.
“Wake us? You might as well have woken the entire island.” Flint scoffed, laughing. He patted John’s leg before climbing up the bed to be next to John.
“John, would you care to tell us why you woke up screaming?” Madi asked, now that he was calmer and coherent.
John looked away and bit his lip, feeling weak. “It was—um, I was remembering when…how they—I mean when—”
“When Vane’s mutineers smashed your leg.” Flint finished, realizing what this was about.
“Yeah. That.” John said, staring down at where there should have been his leg, but instead was only a blanket. He clenched his fists beside him, frustrated.
“John. Why do you still dream of that?” Madi asked, unable to understand why something that was so clearly out of his control still plagued him. Or perhaps that was just it. Perhaps it still plagued him because he had no control, because he couldn’t do anything. Of course that was it, John was a man of control, of authority, he needed to know what was going to happen and how. But that…
“Oh, John.” She said.
“I—I guess it’s because I couldn’t do anything. It was like I was backed into a corner I couldn’t get out of, no matter how hard I tried. I couldn’t give them the names, I couldn’t stop them from killing the crew member, and I couldn’t stop them from torturing me. I couldn’t do anything except lie there and let them hit me over and over again with that blasted axe!” John said, growing more and more emotional as he uncovered the reasons behind his feelings.
“John. John look at me. What you did? I don’t think even I could’ve done. You may be a pirate, but you’re more loyal than any pirate I’ve met because you’re not loyal to your captain first, you’re loyal to your crew first and foremost and that, that’s rare but so, so valuable.” Flint said, smiling. John’s eyes began to water, and Flint pulled John’s head to his chest.
“You are so valuable to us, John. So important.” Madi said, grabbing his hand.
John let the tears fall, and he sobbed into Flint’s shoulder. Madi wrapped them both in her arms and offered her presence as comfort, her boys. John began to calm down, and soon he fell asleep, exhausted from the whole ordeal. Flint and Madi shared a look over his head, and carefully laid him back down so that he was sandwiched in between them. They fell asleep like that, and the rum was left untouched and full on the nightstand.