What Dreams May Come

It was nearly a year ago today that he had met Tom. Sweet, charming, talented Thomas Pullings. His first lieutenant for a time, and later captain of the Intercepter as he was promoted to Commodore. It had been nothing at first. Secret glances, touches that lingered a little too long, steps that came a little too close. But that smile, yes that smile had been his undoing.

Why did it feel as if he was living in King Edward the Second's footprints. Was it that all love as such this was, doomed to fail? And not just fail, but crash and burn like a bird descending from the heavens- with it's wings torn off. A pure love was doomed to die a traitor's death.

What was wrong with their love? What God could look into those lovely blue eyes, that were all innocence and mischief- who would not fall for such eyes? Before a blacksmith, or a governor's daughter, or a rum soaked pirate- there had been a tall, bright eyed lieutenant. And it had made all the difference- it had changed the course of events in history. In his life at least. It was that 'what if', that haunted him now.

What if he had simply continued his life without the man? He could have been captured by a different pair of eyes, he could have asked for the hand of charming young women, he could have a pirate renew his lust for life- only to have a lord break it once again. Then he could die, alone and unloved. Only to be forgotten in time. Nothing he'd ever done really mattering. Perhaps in his elder years, Mr.Sparrow might have looked out his cabin window on a dreary, rainy day and wondered, "Whatever happened to that Norrington fellow?"

But it was simply those blue eyes that had made all the difference. He could remember how the year seemed to fly past. How they would snog in his office, Tom pressed up against the door- and he pressed up against Tom. Those delicious Saturday evenings, knowing they would have all of Sunday together... and that Tom wouldn't have to leave before dawn this time. He could remember how dark Tom's eyes would get as he made love to him.

It all seemed like distant memories now. Tom's heated cries, long limbs wrapped around him, whispered vows that were sweeter than the smell of the Caribbean on the wind. How Tom would leave him lunch each day, or write him a note just to speak of how he adored his lover. How he'd sliced his fingers whittling a small model of the Dauntless for James' birthday. Begging James to ignore that the ship was painted red, but rather look at the word he had carved on the bottom. 'Forever.'

James could remember how Tom had held him close in the great cabin, the night before battle. How he'd spoken passages from the bible to him. Proving how their love was not wrong. And that love could transcend both life and death. Love was eternal, their love was eternal.

Those words ran through his head now, as he watched, in the crowd of people. Society liked to make an example of sodomites- these abominations to man. It would never have been accepted in England, such punishment was reserved for traitors to the crown... yet this was not England... and they saw both James and Tom as traitors to the crown for what they had done, while in service. Fate was cruel mistress, more so than the sea ever was.

He was near the front, he had to be. He'd watched them drag Tom, tied to horses, to the fort. It was not the gallows for him. Bruised, broken, and bleeding, Tom was pulled to his feet as the crowd cheered. He was looking around, frantically. He was looking for strength, for James.

His hands were tied behind his back then, and a noose strung around his neck.

James felt as if he might be sick, but could not look away.

"If I speak in the tongues of men and angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal." He said, it was lost in the crowd, but Tom heard. He was just close enough for Tom to hear. And Tom's eyes found his, a soft smile coming to his face.

"If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have no love, I gain nothing." He spoke louder now, as they stung Tom up. Dangling him as the crowd cheered, as his face paled and his body stopped quivering. They dropped him down, leaving him in a gasping heap.

Once more, Tom's eyes sought out James. He was wheezing, but still managing to smile softly at James. Reassuring him, even though it was he who was going through such hell. James forced himself to keep his eyes connected... not to look away. He would be there for Tom.

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud." He called out to his lover as they tied him to a ladder, in front of the fire they had been building up.

"It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs." The executioner cut open Tom's shirt, and then his breeches- exposing him wholly to the crowd. He could see the shame written on Tom's face. Leave it to Tom to think of such things as propriety as the time like this.

"Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth." He could feel the tears begin to roll down his face as they took from Tom, all that made him a man. Tossing them into the fire below... but Tom did not shout, did not beg for his life. Did not look away from James.

"It always protects, always trust, always hopes, always preserves." James struggled the very front, reaching them as they finished cutting him open from chest to stomach.Tom was pale, in such great pain, face void of all expression. Eyes rolling up in agony.

"Love never fails... And now these remain: faith, hope, and love." James shouted, the crowd going silent as be pushed pasted the guards.

Tears finally began to roll down Tom's face as he managed to look as James once more. With his last struggled breaths, the younger man whispered out. "But the greatest of these, is love..."

"Is love." James nodded, pulling a pistol from is waist and taking a well aimed shot to the head. Putting the dear, sweet boy from his misery.

He didn't even feel the bullet pierce his heart from behind. He could only think of staggering the few feet left between then. Clutching at the ladder with one hand, reaching up for Tom with the other. Fingers brushing the toes of one of the other man's bare feet. "...is love..."

History had changed, and though the two were forgotten by most. There was a Blacksmith watching from the arms of a pirate, and a governor's daughter clenching her father in fits of sobs. And those three, buried the men at sea. In a row boat, together, as they would always be in eternity.

And it's said, that you can still hear their whispers on the ocean.

And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these, is love.