15. trembling hands and/or 49. nightfall?
since you wanted silver/flint more I’ve had an idea and I’m gonna roll with it
They were, at last, alone. Night had fallen on the Maroon Camp and John was able to relax out of sight of the men. He tugged his shirt from his belt, ignoring the rustling of clothing as Flint removed his coat, and settled slowly onto the bed on the floor.
“You need to clean your leg again,” Flint murmured in the dark. “Don’t want you getting another fever, not so soon before we leave.”
John shrugged, looking up at his captain and huffing. “Madi cleaned it. Fresh bandages, fresh medicine, all clean and ready for travel…”
Flint lowered himself and stretched out, his long legs bend at the knees as he leaned against the wall behind him and considered John. John was still startled by their closeness now after all that had happened between Charles Town and the doldrums. He wondered if he truly had gained any power over Flint or his mind. Flint didn’t consider him welcome before, did he now?
“I worry sometimes,” Flint said, voice steady and sure, “that I might be compromised in my thought towards you.”
John frowned, confusion settling in his mind and over his face. “Your thoughts towards me?”
Flint nodded. He looked tired, his cheeks sunken and the jut of his collarbones too sharp. It wasn’t just starvation from being becalmed but something more. Something self inflicted.
“I worry that you know me too well. I’ve told you of my past; who I was, who I loved, who I lost… There is nothing within me now that is secret from you;” Flint looked down, his expression calm. “I worry more that I don’t seem to care anymore.”
Something akin to terror passed through John’s mind. He watched as Flint shuffled over and sat himself next to John, reaching to touch his shoulder. His hands were shaking.
“You are… important to me,” he said softly, hand clasping John’s shoulder gently. “I said that if you were not strong enough to do something, that I would. But I’m not strong enough to care for you, not in this moment. So… I need to know you will care for yourself while I am unable.”
“Promise me.” Flint cut him off with a harsh whisper. His grip tightened, his eyes gazing into John’s with an intensity he so rarely showed anymore. “Promise me I won’t see you harmed this way again.”
John swallowed around the sudden tightness in his throat. “I promise.”
Flint sagged, his hand falling away, and John ignored the cold that seeped into his shoulder with its absence. He ignored the tremor in his own hands when he lifted them to push sweat soaked hair from his neck. He sat in silence as Flint arranged himself on his bed and turned away.
