Tide

The sun had nearly set by the time Wesley and Valentine wandered back into their camp. A few embers from the fire were still holding onto their glow, but just barely. After breathing life back into them, Wesley cooked up a few slabs of the briny beef and offered one to Valentine. They ate together in relative silence, and once their hunger was sated, Wesley found himself laying on the beach next to the pirate and staring up at the stars.

"Are you afraid to die?" Wesley asked, his eyes sweeping over the constellations that would often guide his ship home from a long journey.

There was no response at first, but after a minute of introspection, Valentine breathed out his answer. "No."

Wesley absorbed the word in the lingering silence. It was curious to him. The idea of death left a bad taste in his mouth, but Valentine seemed so calm and collected in the face of it. Some part of him admired how well the pirate was handling the prospect.

"Do you have any regrets?" he asked out of dull curiosity.

Valentine turned his head to look at Wesley, whose skin practically glowed in the pale light of the moon. The merchant continued to survey the sky with cerulean eyes that seemed much darker  than usual in the dim light.

"I regret not being a better man for you," the pirate said softly. "One that you could've been proud of."

Wesley noticed how he had not made mention of any of the people he had killed or hurt or stolen from, but he found he was not at all surprised by the answer. Still, he kept his gaze skyward as the other man memorized every sloping edge and plane of his face.

"I don't regret raiding your ship though," he continued. "If I hadn't I may have never met you."

Despite the mention of their less than ideal beginnings, Wesley's heart fluttered. He couldn't help it when he said stuff like that.

Maybe Valentine had been singing to him while he slept, because there had to be some kind of explanation for why his heart ached so much in the pirate's presence.

He knew it wasn't true though. His thoughts were his own, as were his feelings. That much was obvious to him.

"Do you ever run out of romantic things to say?" Wesley huffed, finally turning his head to glare halfheartedly at the pirate.

Valentine smirked lightly, "No. Not really."

Wesley huffed again and returned his gaze to the stars.

"What about you?" Valentine asked after a moment. "Any regrets?"

Wesley was almost quick to retort that he regretted meeting Valentine, but as the words perched on his tongue he realized they weren't necessarily true. He regretted how they met, but not that they met. Instead his lips shaped around a different set of words.

"I regret not spending more time with my sister when I had the chance."

All was silent for a moment, his words lingering over them like a thin veil of fog they were reluctant to breathe in. When it settled a bit, Valentine asked, "What happened to her?"

"She was sick," Wesley sighed. "There was nothing we could've done to help her. She passed when I was on my first job as a merchant. My first trip across the sea."

"I'm sorry," Valentine said. He couldn't imagine what it would've been like to lose his own sister. In a way, he had lost Cordelia when he had been banished, but he at least had the comfort of knowing she was alive. Somewhere. Wesley didn't have that. "What was her name?"

"Waverly," he breathed. A small smile twitched on his lips as a fond memory played behind his eyes. Valentine could tell Wesley was no longer seeing the stars as he said, "She always insisted that she would sail the seas with me once I was a captain."

"Perhaps she has," Valentine's voice was like a fine bourbon in Wesley's ears: warm and pleasant. "It sounds like she never really left you."

"Perhaps," he agreed, his hand subconsciously rising up to scratch lightly at the area above his heart. Silence stretched between them once more, and it was laced with bittersweet sadness. After it became too heavy, Wesley spoke again.

"I'm tired of people leaving me." His voice was thick, on the verge of tears, though he refused to let them fall. All he could think about was the people in his life who had been lost to him. First his father, then his sister, then his mother, then his crew, and now Valentine was going to leave too, and once again he found himself powerless against the will of fate.

"I would stay if I could," Valentine spoke softly.

"I know," Wesley said and it felt like needles were pricking at the back of his throat.

"Come here," Valentine whispered, getting Wesley to slide himself closer. He put his arm around the merchant and Wesley responded by laying his head on the pirate's chest. Valentine's soul twitched when he realized the thing he regretted most was the thing he had yet to do.

As Wesley pressed his cheek into Valentine's chest, he put as much focus as he could into evening out his effortful breathing. There was a heaviness in his lungs from how unfair the world was.

Wesley inhaled the pirate's scent quietly. It was surprisingly pleasant, all things considered. There was a lingering fragrance of spices and a humble earthiness on his clothes, likely from all the dealings he'd had with contraband cargo and the subsequent adventures they'd since had on the island. It was warm and comforting in a way that Wesley couldn't really describe. Before long, he managed to relax enough for the sound of ocean waves lapping at the shore to lull him into a dreamless sleep.

----+------+----

When Wesley awoke, he was alone.

Ice cold panic clutched at his lungs as he sat up and frantically searched the surrounding area with wide eyes. Relief flowed through him as he spotted a familiar shirtless figure standing in calf deep water and watching the sunrise.

Wesley kicked off his boots and rolled up the bottom hem of his breeches before he joined the pirate. He was sure Valentine heard him ungracefully breaking the water as he trudged closer, but the pirate did not turn his gaze away from the horizon.

Beside him, Wesley let his eyes roam across the water briefly before turning to look the man in the eye. The light of the sunrise made Valentine's skin glow a faint orange, and it was then that Wesley saw the troubled expression that painted his face.

Worriedly, the merchant asked, "What's wrong?"

"The tide," Valentine said simply.

Wesley looked back toward the shore and realized with a jolt how high the waves reached on the beach. He then noticed that the tide markers Valentine had set up shortly after their arrival had been far surpassed by the waves. Even those that marked the high tide were in ankle deep water now. Valentine was currently gripping one of the low tide markers in his unblackened hand.

When Wesley's attention returned to Valentine's face, the pirate spoke again.

"It's here."

Wesley swallowed thickly as he looked out at the waves again. Nothing seemed to stand out for as far as he could see, but judging by the heavy displacement of the tides and the haunted look on Valentine's face, there was something dangerous—something big—lurking just beyond his sight.

"W-what exactly is it?" he found himself asking over the lump in his throat.

He noticed a glassiness in Valentine's eyes, but the pirate managed to speak despite it.

"The Kraken."

Wesley's face grew pale. The sea monster's name was no stranger to his ears. He had heard many gruesome tales of it in his travels, though he had always believed it to be a creature of legend, not of reality. To think it was here now, prowling in the depths just beyond the island, was frankly quite terrifying.

"It's calling to me," the pirate said distantly.

Wesley paused a moment to listen, but no foreign sounds were audible to his ears. He found it upsetting that the creature was able to target an individual source of prey. The pirate seemed to be in a sort of trance as he watched the waves, which was enough for Wesley to know the Kraken was real and was having an effect on him. The fact that Valentine still stood beside him made it clear to Wesley that he was trying to fight the pull, but as the merchant observed the dreamlike state of the pirate, he realized he might be losing the battle.

Wesley's fingers slipped into the pirate's, unperturbed by the magically ink stained skin. He squeezed Valentine's hand and in a surprisingly steady voice he spoke.

"Valentine. Come back to shore."

The pirate didn't move, or make any other outward sign that he had heard. Perhaps he hadn't. He appeared to be in a different world entirely.

"Valentine," he tried again reaching his other hand up to pull the man's gaze away from the ocean. "Valentine, look at me."

The pirate's eyelids fluttered as his gaze ghosted to the merchant's. The depth Wesley had always seen in his lavender irises was missing. Instead they seemed dull. Lifeless. Sad.

"I see you," Valentine whispered tiredly, reaching out to run his thumb over the merchant's bottom lip.

"Don't go," Wesley told him.

His eyes flickered as he fought to keep them on Wesley instead of the sea.

"It is time."

"You can't," Wesley's voice was so thick he felt like he was speaking through molasses.

Valentine leaned forward and lightly connected their lips. He pulled back almost as soon as they had touched, but the contact was enough to allow him a brief moment to think clearer.

"Take care of my things, Wesley. They meant a lot to me and I want you to have them."

Wesley shook his head in denial before embracing the pirate in a tight hug. The merchant's cheek rested against the inky tendrils that at some point during the night had migrated over the captain's heart. He hated them, he decided. Far more than he had ever hated the pirate.

Valentine's strong arms encircled the merchant and held him close. He breathed in the presence of his mate and cursed the beast for drawing his attention away with an impossible allure. When Wesley noticed, he reached up and directed Valentine's face toward him for a second time.

"Don't," the merchant pleaded.

"I need you to do something for me," the pirate breathed. Wesley's attention was sharp, even through bleary eyes as he clung to the pirate's every word. A nascent smile tugged at the corners of Valentine's lips as he said, "Be happy."

Wesley wanted to cry so badly, but he somehow managed not to. He felt like his heart was shattering, and he couldn't for the life of him remember when he had started to care so much about the pirate.

"It will give me strength for whatever comes next to know that you are happy," he continued.

"I'll try," Wesley's voice broke.

"Good," the pirate breathed. He placed a gentle kiss on the merchant's nose. Then his cheeks. Then his forehead. And finally, he placed one last lingering kiss on his lips.

"I love you, Wesley Roberts."

A singular tear slipped down Wesley's cheek as he saw the man's eyes become extremely distant again. Wesley held his gaze, though he was positive the pirate could not see him anymore, until he turned back toward the sea.

He watched solemnly as Valentine waded deeper into the water. As soon as the water lapped around his waist, he dove forward and slipped beneath the waves.

A small glint of lavender beneath the surface was the last Wesley saw of Valentine Cross.

----+------+----

A/N

Well shit.

Sorry for the delayed update. I got jabbed by four needles at the doctor this week and I have been out of it. Finally got around to summoning enough brainpower and arm mobility to edit and publish this part.

Anyway, only two more chapters until the end of Part One, so stick around for that. In the mean time, I'll be around bottling up all the hearts I just ripped out of your chests for my display case. (Seriously though, even if it hurts, you'll want to stick around for Part Two and Three.)

Do you believe in an afterlife? What does it look like in your mind?

Until Sunday,

-Mora Montgomery