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The deck of the Revenge is quiet under the pale moonlight, the usual chaos of the crew replaced by a rare stillness. Jim and Archie step aboard, their boots barely making a sound as they move toward the crew's quarters. The air smells of salt and the faint tang of rum, and the ship creaks softly, as if it knows this is goodbye.
Jim doesn't want to go. Not really. The Revenge is their home, where they learned to live and thrive instead of just survive. This ship had been a sanctuary for them, a place to grow, to find family in the chaos of the sea. And now, they’re leaving it behind for a new chapter, one they know deep down they want, but it still doesn’t feel real.
"We’re doing the right thing, yeah?" Archie asks, folding her arms around herself. She's quiet for once, sensing the unease. "No second thoughts?"
"No..." Jim purses their lips, hesitating for a moment. The word feels heavy, like a lie they’re not ready to admit. They glance around the deck, their eyes tracing the familiar lines of the ship—the mast towering into the night sky, the rigging swaying gently in the breeze, the faint glow of lanterns casting long shadows. This place has been more than just wood and sails; it’s been a part of them.
“No,” Jim repeats, firmer this time, though their voice wavers. “We’re doing the right thing. Olu and Zheng…they’re our future. This ship…it’s just a ship.”
“Just a ship, huh? You sure about that?" Archie raises an eyebrow, her usual smirk creeping back. "Because you’re looking at it like it’s your first fuckin’ love.” Jim glares at her, but there’s no heat behind it.
“Shut up,” they mutter, shoving her lightly. Archie laughs, the sound breaking the tension, and Jim can’t help but smile a little.
They reach the room that the two of them shared with Olu and push the door open. It's dark, the hammocks swaying gently with the ship’s motion. Most of the crew is still out in the port, celebrating their newfound notoriety after killing Ned Lowe. Jim and Archie move quietly, gathering their belongings—a few clothes, a dagger, a small trinket or two. Then, they sling their bags over their shoulders and head back toward the deck. But as they step into the moonlight, they see Izzy standing near the railing, his silhouette sharp against the night sky. He’s smoking a cigarette, the ember glowing faintly, and he doesn’t turn as they approach.
“Leaving, then?” he asks, his voice gruff but quieter than usual.
“Yeah,” Jim says, stopping a few feet away. Archie lingers behind, her arms crossed, watching the exchange.
Izzy nods, his eyes still fixed on the horizon. He tosses the cigarette into the water and it lands with a barely audible hiss. The moonlight catches his hair, turning it silver, and for a moment, Jim can see the man he was before, young and fierce and unbroken. Then, Izzy turns, his expression guarded, his mouth a hard line.
"I'm going to miss you," he says.
"Don't say that, viejo." Jim doesn't want to hear it. They're trying to do the right thing by Olu—their Olu, but it hurts so much. Izzy gives them a faint smile, and his eyes shine. He takes a step toward them and hesitates, as if unsure how to proceed. Then, he puts his arms around Jim and embraces them, holding on tightly. Jim doesn't resist, letting their head fall against his shoulder.
"Te amo," Jim murmurs, their voice thick with emotion. "Take care of Stede. Make him eat and don't let him mope too much and don’t let him get himself killed."
"Yeah, I'll fuckin’ take care of him." Izzy lets them go and steps back. His voice is rough, and he looks away, blinking. "You take care of yourself. And if you need anything...you know where to find us."
"I know." Jim takes a deep breath and looks up at the night sky, trying to fight back the tears threatening to fall. They lean forward, almost unconsciously, and kiss him softly. His mouth is warm, tasting of smoke and ash, and Jim lingers for a moment before pulling away.
Archie clears her throat, and Jim starts, remembering that she's there.
"Sorry," Jim says, not sure who they're apologizing to.
"No, it's fine." Archie's voice is gentle, and she steps closer, touching Jim's arm. She takes another step forward, making her intention clear, and leans in to kiss Izzy too. Her lips press against his, soft and tender, and before Jim even realizes what's happening, Archie’s tongue slips between Izzy's lips, teasing and coaxing him to respond.
He does, hesitantly at first, then more eagerly, his tongue meeting hers, his hand curling into her hair. The kiss goes on, turning more passionate, and Jim can't tear their eyes away. They can feel their body responding, their heartbeat quickening, and their breath catches in their throat.
Finally, Archie pulls back, her eyes glittering. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and her lips curl into a satisfied grin.
"Always wanted to know what that felt like." She says, her tone light. "Thanks, mate." Izzy is silent, staring at her, his cheeks flushed. Jim snorts, half to break the tension and half because it's funny.
"You're welcome." Izzy manages to get the words out, and they both chuckle. The tension is gone, the sadness and loss replaced by something else, a strange warmth.
"We should go." Jim glances at Archie, and she nods. They turn and walk to the edge of the deck, their steps lighter, the ache in their chest fading.
As they stand on the railing, the cool ocean breeze blowing across their faces, Jim can't help but look back, taking in the sight of the Revenge one last time. Their heart aches, but they know it's the right decision.
They step off the edge, falling into the dinghy below, and settle onto the wooden bench. Archie follows a moment later, landing with a soft thud beside them.
"You ready?" she asks, her eyes shining.
"As I'll ever be." Jim takes up the oars, their muscles straining as they row.
The ocean opens up before them, vast and endless, and the ship fades into the darkness behind them. Jim keeps their gaze forward, their mind focused on the next step, the next adventure. They can do this, they know it. They can leave the past behind and start something new.
And somehow, knowing that makes the ache a little easier to bear.