"I've lain with the devil. Cursed God above. Forsaken heaven, to bring you my love."
- To Bring You My Love by PJ Harvey.
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The atmosphere between Stiles and Mal is shattered the moment the first canon hits the Talia. Stiles moves to cover her, but she overpowers him in an instant, shoving him under the desk and ordering him not to move. There isn't a hint of that look she had in her eyes just two minutes ago. No sadness, no hurt, no emotion at all. Mal is gone. She is once again stone cold Captain Hale, Stiles' authoritative figure and nothing more. Before he can argue, before he can even think to ask her to stay, she's moving, hat on her head and sword in her hands. She looks at him one last time, ordering him, again, to stay there, before she throws herself onto the deck, into the chaos, and out of his sight.
Stunned, speechless, and struggling to comprehend it all, Stiles considers leaving his position. He should. The ship is under attack and he owes it to his crew to fight beside them. They may hate him right now, but Stiles is a pirate and pirates are loyal to each other. However, besides the paralyzing fear that keeps him from moving, the one thing that tops all of his crew is his captain, and Mal told him to stay there. So he does. He stays and listens to the fighting and he feels the vibrations of the canons hitting the ship and he hates himself. Surprisingly, the thought that this could be his one chance to escape doesn't cross his mind. The thought of escaping is lost altogether.
It feels like hours pass by of Stiles doing nothing but listening to the sounds of the attack. His body numbs in its crouched position, but he doesn't dare move an inch. He listens to the swords meet the other, and the screams of people who get hurt in the process, but he doesn't move. And once again, déjà vu in all her fucking glory, remind Stiles of what happened before. It'll never let him go. Being on the sea, being on a ship under attack - it will always remind him of the night he got lost.
Stiles closes his eyes and pushes his hands against his head. He does not want to think about it anymore, does not want to be reminded, does not want to have to listen to the fighting going on outside. He wishes it would stop.
Suddenly, it does. Stiles doesn't hear a thing. Slowly, he pulls his hands away – and there's complete silence. Not a sound is made, nothing heard at all, and that is what keeps from letting his guard down. Mal hasn't come back for him, and he doesn't hear his crewmates cry out in a drunken victory. Something is terribly wrong.
Stiles opens his eyes the moment he hears the door creak open. He wants it to be her, but deep down he knows it's not. The smartest move is to stay where he is. It's cowardly, but it's smart. He stays as still as he can, holds his breath so there is no sound at all. He hears a set of boots against the floor, and another, and then another. Three men. By the creak the floors make, they must be heavy built. Maybe Stiles could take one, but not three. He hopes they'll just take what they want and leave. When they walk away from the door and away from the desk, he thinks maybe his hope will come true. They'll take what they want, and he'll apologize to Mal for letting them get away with it and suffer whatever punishment she'll have for him, but at least he would be alive to tell her. And that's what he wants. To stay alive. Isn't it? And not alive so he can escape, but alive so he can see that she is too.
It's a shocking revelation that shifts his breath. It's barely audible, but it's audible nonetheless.
All movement in the room seizes. The three men are still as they listen. Stiles is so terrified and shocked and confused and unsure of what to do that he does nothing at all. He holds his breath because he cannot physically force himself to breathe. Frozen, he is unable to do anything as they are still and unable to do anything as they move.
