I knew the moment Mary escaped her execution that this story had to exist. These two turned out to be so much fun to write.

(It took me a few days to get this up here, so I'm sorry if you've already seen it on Ao3!)

Practicalities

"Kidd!" Edward called. "It's been too long."

It was a fine morning and Great Inagua was quiet, most of the men still sleeping. It was rare that Edward would find himself alone at the tavern. A tankard of rum was fine company, but he wouldn't refuse some more.

"The man I needed," Mary said, pulling out the stool opposite his and dropping onto it.

"Not something I hear often enough," he said. "What do you need me for?"

For a moment she sat considering him, not speaking.

"Rackham's thinking of taking a ship," she said.

"And you're planning to join him?" Edward asked. "Or to stop him?"

She shook her head. "You know Rackham. Once he gets an idea in his head..."

He raised his tankard to her. "Well, then, I wish you fair winds."

"Been thinking, though," she said. "Dangerous to be a pirate these days."

"And it used to seem such a safe profession."

"Still," she said. "Not so many of us left. A girl could use some protection."

That gave Edward pause. He'd never heard her call herself female in her Kidd guise before. A ploy to gain his sympathy, he supposed. "You want the Jackdaw to escort you?"

"And take you away from all your noble pillaging and plundering?" she asked. "Wouldn't dream of it. I'll require you only a night. Or a few nights a month, to be on the safe side."

Edward spread his hands briefly, then dropped them to the table. "And what would you have me do?"

Mary grinned. She leant across the table, covering his hand with her own.

"Ever heard of pleading the belly?" she said softly in his ear.

There was no need for her to be so close. There was nobody within earshot. It made him shiver even before he registered what she was saying.

"What?" he asked. "I, er... I... you're not...?"

"Articulate man," Mary said, dropping back onto her seat. "I like that."

He found himself gripping the table for support. It was something he usually did with quite a lot more rum in him. "But... why me?"

"Simplicity's sake, mainly," Mary said. "There are men who'd take James Kidd to bed, but not so many who wouldn't start asking questions once they had him there." She shrugged. "And, besides, you're fine-featured enough. If I'm to bring a child into the world, might as well make it a handsome one."

The wood was rough against his fingers. It was the only thing about this conversation that felt real.

"My Caroline..." he whispered.

"Your Caroline," Mary said, "will be no more betrayed by me than by any of the rest. But I can always find someone else, if you'd rather not."

Edward took a slightly desperate gulp of his rum.

"No," he said. "No. I'll do it."

"You've done it up," Mary said, looking around his manor. "Nice place you have here."

Edward shrugged. "It's enough for my needs."

"Wouldn't have thought it, with all the ships you keep taking."

"I seem to recall I'm not the only pirate in the room. Did you come here to moralise?"

She looked at him. "You know why I came here, Kenway."

He had nothing to say to that.

"Bedroom's through here, is it?"

He was used to women making themselves desirable, but there was no calculated grace in the way she sat on his bed. No reluctance, but nothing he could take as a sign that this was more than she claimed. And yet just the fact of her being there, of her intentions, no matter how practical... that was enough to have him near hard already.

She reached up to untie her bandana. He stayed her hand.

She looked at him, questioning.

"Keep it on," he said. "It suits you."

In truth, when he thought of Mary, he thought of her as Kidd. The woman beneath the disguise he had met only once. Kidd was the person he knew, or so he had once thought.

She laughed. "If it please you."

He was still holding her wrist.

"The rest of my clothes will have to come off, you know," she said. "Hate to disappoint you."

"I can live with that," he murmured.

He had to remain detached, he told himself. This was a favour, nothing more. But still he reached out to stroke back the strands of her hair that had escaped.

She was out of the bed almost before he'd finished coming, while he was still struggling to remember who he was.

"You could stay," he said.

She shook her head. "Busy life. But thanks for that." She pulled on her breeches. "Pleasure transacting with you."

He watched her. He willed herself not to say it.

"A few nights a month, you said?" he asked, losing the struggle. "So will I see you again tomorrow?"

"We're sailing in the morning, mate." She readjusted her bandana, slapped him on the shoulder. "But I'll call on you again in a month or so."

She was gone so fast it was hard to be sure she hadn't been a dream.

It was three months before he saw her again, on Great Inagua. He was making for his manor and there she was, leaning against one of the pillars, the sunlight so bright on her skin that she looked unreal.

He tried not to stare, but as always he felt she could see straight through him, clear as water.

"You never called," he said.

She glanced around, checking there was no one in earshot, then looked back and shot him a smirk.

"I never bled," she said. "Nicely done. Virile, like. I'll be sure to come back if ever I need another."

It was hard to think, somehow. He wet his lips. "Congratulations."

His gaze alighted on her belly – not yet showing, her disguise unbroken still – and he found himself thinking of the child within. Their child.

Would he have a hand in raising it? Probably not, if it already had a parent who could serve as mother and father both. She'd had her use of him.

"I can't linger," she said, jerking her head towards the docks. "We only stopped to resupply."

Edward nodded, his throat dry.

And she crossed the space between them in two swift paces and was kissing him before he knew she was there. He'd had gentler fists to the gut.

She was the one who broke it off as well, of course, with a grin and a nod over his shoulder. "Something for your men to talk about."

Edward glanced behind him. Adé and half a dozen others. He groaned.

"You've impaled men before," Mary said, shrugging easily, "and they stood by you then."

"I could tell them who you are, you know."

"And I'll tell them you wanted me to keep the bandana on," she said. "I'll see you around, Captain Kenway." A quick sarcastic bow and she was gone, striding away to the docks.

Edward watched her go, fully aware that every second of this would make the rumours harder to quash. He touched a hand to his lips. It came away bloodied.

Still. Perhaps one day she'd want another.