38 How Life Should Be
"So, Thomas," Elizabeth said, pouring tea from a delicate teapot into a cup. "What is the West Indies like?"
The three of them, Elizabeth, her father and Thomas, sat in the family living room. It was only Elizabeth and her father that lived there and while the house was under his name, Elizabeth had clearly made the place her own. The decadent furniture was organised tidily around the room, practically every sofa, every pillow, every wall held some kind of shade of pink. Sitting on one of the sofas, Elizabeth nearly disappeared, her dress blending in with the patterned fabric. Looking around, Thomas gave an amused laugh under his breath.
'Jemima would not last one day here,' he thought, 'red is more her colour.'
At the thought of her, he cringed and focused his attention back on his darling Elizabeth.
"It's something, that's for sure." He breathed, recalling the area. "The sun's bright and the sea is warm, the wind gentle and the sky's blue, but all it takes is a moment for the weather to turn, the skies to darken and the waves to throw the ship as if it was no bigger than a dingy."
"Were you in many storms?" She asked, sitting down beside him, her bright blue eyes curious.
"Aye. In fact, in one, I was only one of three to survive the storm." Thomas then grinned. "Well, two by the end of the day."
"Ah, yes, Elizabeth told me you're an assassin. I'm guessing that third man was someone you were paid to kill?" Mr Lovett said.
"Yes, he was a traitor to the Brotherhood, heading for Templars in Havana."
"Ah." He nodded, taking a sip from his cup of tea.
"Tell me, Thomas." Elizabeth rested her head on her hand. "Did you have many fights? Any injuries?" She gasped, sitting up straight. "Were you shot at?"
"No, I wasn't shot." Thomas smiled. "But, I-"
Thomas snapped back to the past, snarling as he fought the fort's guards, kicking soldiers away as he plunged his wrist blades into others.
"Jack!" Kenway called and hearing the name, Thomas spun around.
He saw the young man stand there, sword raised, a pained expression on his face as he glanced down, a burst of red spreading across his chest, just below his shoulder, soaking his shirt. With a brief stumble, he fell.
Thomas remembered tearing across the battlefield, gathering the young man in his arms and lead him to safety, pulling away his shirt to discover... He was a she.
"Thomas? Thomas!" Elizabeth's voice snapped him back to the present and he shook his head.
"Sorry, I was just about to say, I, ah, I helped someone who was shot, looked after them as they recovered."
"Oh my, I didn't think that was something you could recover from." Elizabeth remarked.
"It depends, this was a lucky miss."
"It sounds it."
Thomas rested his arms on the table and Elizabeth noticed the singular blade he had on his wrist.
"Oh, Thomas." She said, taking his hands. "You're missing one!"
"Ah, yes, I lost it in a bet." He admitted.
"A bet? What kind of bet?"
The past dragged Thomas back to it and suddenly, he was back in Great Inagua, Jemima's body pressed against his as he mischievously raised his wrist blade to her throat while she tapped her pistol against his chin, that deadly beautiful smile playing across her face.
"Just settling differences." He smiled, his heart aching at the memory of her.
"And gold! Did you find much gold?" She continued to question him, intrigued.
He could think of nothing, no coin in his hand or purse, but the gold that stood, watching him as he disappeared. He left Jemima behind, the most precious gold of all.
"I... I need some air." Thomas pulled his hands away and stood.
He stepped down the hallway and opened the door, gasping for breath in the London street. Why couldn't he just forget about her? She had probably forgotten about him by now, so he should do the same. He had Elizabeth now, he loved her and she loved him, it was how it was meant to be, but why couldn't she just leave his head?!
"Thomas, are you alright?" Elizabeth approached him, tentatively reaching for his shoulder.
"I'm fine." He smiled, taking her hand. "Couldn't be better."
"Thomas, you know I love you, you can tell me if anything's wrong." She assured him.
"I know." He said and kissed her forehead. "There's nothing that you need to worry about."
"My handsome man, a noble assassin." She smiled, brushing his hair from his face.
"My beautiful girl, a kind and gentle woman." He smiled back and kissed her.
In that moment, he was happy. It was how life was meant to be, how he had imagined life to be from the moment he left England. Truly, he was happy and he loved Elizabeth. But he wasn't as happy as when he was with Jemima. And he didn't love Elizabeth as much as he loved Jemima either.