Gentlemen of Fortune

by Jami Wilsen

Disclaimer: These pretty guys don't belong to me. That is so unfair. [g] But I doubt their owners will make them as happy as I do, romantically speaking.

Pairing: Methos (as Dr. Benjamin Adams, re: Watcher Chronicles)/Cory Raines

Rated: A, m/m

Spoilers: Yeah, probably, for Methos' life history and the episode 'Money No Object'.

Beta: Jennie - brilliant beta that she is, saved my life.

Author's Notes: This is an apology fic for not observing the 5-days' grace in posting to the Zone and other lists! Many thanks to Shadowfox, for not having me flogged or forced to walk the plank. (I don't *dare* say 'snippet', else I'll have the Slash Contingent of the Revolutionary force of France on my heels-, er, wild Islander headhunting amazons looking for my scalp- uh, wait, no - the best of HM British Navy Slashers searching the seven seas- Jeez, that isn't right either.... ;P)

Summary: A romp with Cory on the open sea of the Caribbee'.

Warning: May contain anachronisms!

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

AUTHENTIC HISTORICAL NOTE: Aboard pirate ships among buccaneers there existed a 'Code of Conduct':

1. No women allowed on board.
2. Captured women not to be molested.
3. The share of each crewman's booty agreed on.
4. Death is the penalty for killing or stealing from another.
5. A trial given before punishment. The crew is the jury.
6. A crewman possibly marooned on a deserted island if he breaks too many rules.
7. No lighted lamps or cigarettes allowed below decks.

1762, during the Seven Years' War, and the Golden Age of Piracy; Near the Island Colonies of Bermuda, The Caribbean Sea

Benjamin had come above on the deck to lean against the railing. He enjoyed being outside on this particular sea. Despite his general hatred of ocean-going vessels, he couldn't help but enjoy being outside on this particular body of water. He attributed his unusual reaction to the sheer beauty of the Caribbean waters.

He found he was a little more forgiving of it than most seas. That one unforgettable Atlantic crossing to Iceland he had made with the Irish monks in 765 AD had made him dislike ocean voyages in general. He preferred to stay on land, and he was only traveling aboard this ship to the New World and the Colonies because he was ready for a change of scene. The opportunity to explore this 'new' frontier of the Americas had been an irresistible challenge.

He watched the salt-green waves and foaming white crests churning against the sides of the ship as it cut through the miles of blue brine that lay in every direction. The sun was high and the call of gulls carried across the water. The sails above him were billowing out in the stiff breeze. They were making good time today.

It had been a long voyage from London, the endless days at sea broken by periodic and brief stops at minor ports and islands along the way. The Dawn Star was a Portuguese trading ship and, as such, it was traveling along one of the better-known trading routes towards the colony of Bermuda. This, however, made them easy prey for sea robbers who prowled the shipping routes in search of traders to board and loot. It was a good thing that the only merchandise they were carrying consisted of relatively unexciting goods, unlikely to be of much interest to pirates.

The journey had been mostly uneventful until today, a fact for which he was grateful despite the unceasing boredom. They had experienced a few storms but nothing really life threatening - which in itself was amazing, considering the rough Atlantic's reputation. Though an hour before, one of the crew had sighted a ship on the distant horizon where the sea met the sky in a hazy blue line. Nervous passengers and crew alike had gradually gathered on the deck to watch as the unknown vessel neared them slowly. As it finally grew close enough to make out what kind of ship it was, the captain and the first mate had joined them all to have a look. It was a frigate, and had been lurking nearby as they neared the outlying islands of Bermuda.

Picking up his telescope, Benjamin took a closer look at the flag it was flying. It was one he hadn't seen before; it seemed to bear a crest or shield. It was probably a family-owned vessel. His instincts warned him that the ship could have no good reason to want to intercept them. He couldn't believe the naivet of the captain, allowing this to happen in pirate-infested waters such as these. Still, perhaps the poor man was taken in by the flag of white that the approaching ship was flying.

Benjamin Adams sighed.

The usefulness of his identity as a doctor of medicine, trained at Heidelberg College, had come in handy for many decades. Not just as a pursuit in itself, but as a cover for his Immortality. But in this case he wasn't willing to stand by and watch as the Dawn Star was pirated; he would have to intervene. In this case, even a doctor, such as himself, would be expected to fight the invading pirates. He hoped it wouldn't come to hand-to-hand combat in defense of the ship, as it would be difficult to hide his Immortal nature if he managed to get injured, or worse yet, killed, in the close quarters of this vessel. It was just damnable luck that their ship had to be intercepted by a large frigate carrying pirates.

He hoped they weren't privateers. Notoriously self-righteous, privateers were known for waving about their Marque of Letters from their particular regime, which claimed these plunderers served their nation's interests. Most of them did as they bloody well pleased and used the Letter of Marque as an excuse for indiscriminate piracy and criminal violence. He could only hope that they were men who would observe the Code of Conduct and limit their actions to seizing what goods were aboard the Portuguese trade ship that he was on, leaving the crew and passengers unmolested. Several other British citizens, including a few small families, had booked passage on this ship, as it would be stopping off at many smaller ports in the Bermuda islands and islets en route to South Carolina.

As the frigate raised the flag to signal 'friend' as opposed to 'foe', the captain decided to allow it to come alongside. This was a serious error in judgment, and Benjamin found himself wondering if he shouldn't have interceded. They weren't even flying a national flag. If it had been British, or Portuguese, sure... Even French, although those ships were also fraught with corrupt men. Still, it wasn't his ship. He sighed to himself and shook his head. The men lining the deck of the other sailing ship looked to be a motley crew.

From where he stood, he couldn't make out what words the Portuguese captain was exchanging with the men farther down. Obviously they were asking permission to board.

Of course, once they had started to come aboard all on their own, eagerly seizing people and holding them at sword's point, it was too late. There were far more pirates than Portuguese crew aboard the Dawn Star. There were a number of skirmishes, but Benjamin realized the pirates must not be of the worst sort, for they took no lives and seemed merely interested in fleecing the many people on the deck of personal valuables.

Some of the women nearby were crying and many of the passengers seemed paralyzed with terror. But he could see no evidence of violent intent. He realized this particular pirate crew was akin to sea-faring highwaymen. No doubt they'd leave once they had made off with their petty loot.

Startlingly, he felt the distinct humming buzz of another Immortal's presence nearby. It had to be one of the suspicious characters swarming on their ship.

That was when he caught sight of the man striding up to the passengers down at his end of the deck. The hum of the quickening had unmistakably emanated from this fellow, as this man was looking around, apparently also trying to find the source of the buzz.

He was splendid in dark boots, trousers and a careless, long white shirt. He noticeably had no cutlass as the others did but instead carried a rapier, currently sheathed at his side. His face was eye-catching, tanned by weeks out under the sun on the open ocean and no doubt sailing around the Caribbean delivering mischief upon more helpless ships like this one. Rakishly turned out, down to the small gold earring in his left ear, the man was, in a word, breathtaking. A broad, brilliant white grin and a pair of sparkling green eyes topped off the vision. Benjamin found himself admiring the sight in spite of his justifiable suspicion of the man's companions and apparent vocation.

Sauntering forward, the man bowed before the weeping women and said, "Good day to you, ladies. Very sorry to break up the dreary monotony of your afternoon but I'm afraid we'll have to be liberating you of a few trinkets. If you'd all cooperate, I'm sure we can depart soon. We'll leave you with the dubious pleasure of knowing that you will make it to your destination without further incident."

A pretty speech from such an obvious knave, thought Benjamin. The man's good nature and sense of humor were winning as well as winsome. He wondered how many heads the fellow had turned with his good looks and charm, not to mention how many he'd taken. No doubt in his current identity as a buccaneer he'd had some experience in the art of head lopping.

His charisma was incontestable. All eyes followed him, some nervously, others more admiringly, as he came to stand before the group cowering near Benjamin. Stopping before one visibly nervous gentleman, the rogue said, "Sir, I'm afraid I shall have to relieve you of the jewels you have in that pocket." Chagrined, the man dug into his coat pocket and handed over a small kerchief-wrapped bundle, which opened to reveal several valuables. The pirate's sharp eye had obviously recognized the distinctive bulge of cut gems. Benjamin realized this man had probably spent many years training as a thief prior to his career as a buccaneer.

Repeating this as he went among them, the thief stopped before a particularly incensed elderly lady wearing an overly-modest plum-colored gown who was standing close to Benjamin.

"Have you no shame, you scoundrel?!" demanded the lady.

He grinned at her. "None, madam. What is this?" he inquired curiously, lifting a chain from around her neck and peering at the oval object. She was flustered and tried to step back, stopped by the fact that one of the other British men was standing behind her. It was silver and opened to reveal a picture of someone. Probably a portrait of an ancestor of her family's. "How much is it worth?"

The old woman gasped as he neatly lifted the chain from around her head. She snatched at it just as it started to leave her, taking it back from him with surprising force. "How dare you?! This belonged to my great-grandmother! You'll not have it, you- you- you *pirate*!" she screeched, clutching the treasured heirloom to her breast.

The man drew himself up slightly. "I resent that. We're not pirates; we're... smugglers, by trade. For fun," he added, with a twinkle in his eyes, "and profit."

"So you admit to criminal activities and ill-gotten gains!" the indignant elderly woman sputtered. "That makes you pirate robbers, you- you devil!"

"'Ill-gotten?' If you like, although I'll admit I'd prefer not to be lumped in the same category as the Spanish. And we could go on all afternoon about the methods of the British. Let's not get hung up on semantics though. If the piece really has that much sentimental value to you, I guess you can keep it. For, say, the name of this charming young lady here. Your daughter, I presume?" He shot a look at the blushing young woman beside her. The daughter in question didn't seem too alarmed at this suggestion in any case, as she fluttered her eyelashes at him coquettishly.

Watchful pirates - no, 'smugglers' rather, Benjamin smiled to himself - had surrounded them and were awaiting what their leader would do.

The elderly woman's jaw worked but she was too scandalized at his impudence to even speak, her eyes bulging even as the other men began to chortle and a wolf-whistle split the air.

The man bowed before the young lady and took her hand, kissing it before saying, "Corwin Raines, at your service, miss." He looked up at her from beneath his brows, giving him a wicked expression, and said, "But you can call me Cory," with a suggestive leer.

The young woman blushed crimson and giggled, and managed to say, "Rosalee Adams, sir," before having her hand grabbed away from Cory's grip by her zealously protective mother.

The mother seemed totally outraged, incapable of forming a proper retort. Finally, she managed in a shocked, gasping voice, "You *dare* to threaten my daughter's virtue!?"

Adopting a look of wounded innocence, Cory replied, "Calm yourself, madam. I'm threatening no one, least of all their virtue. I merely offer a trade - you can keep your precious whatever-that-is, in return for the pleasure of the young lady's company. And you *do* realize you are lacking in manners?" he demanded impudently. "You haven't even introduced us." His gaze switched back to the young lady in the red dress, Rosalee, who appeared completely unaware of the fact that she was unable to stop grinning at Cory. Her bosom was moving up and down fetchingly, as her breath came faster at having gained his notice. Indeed, the other women seemed to be looking daggers at the girl for having the temerity to gather the pirate's undivided attention.

A rogue, and a charming rogue at that, Benjamin thought. He wondered how much of this was a ruse, to draw their attention away from the men who he'd seen slipping below decks, no doubt to ransack the merchandise they were carrying. Still, none of the crew present looked to be in a position to do anything so he took a step forward, saying, "Leave the womenfolk alone, sir. There's no need to pester them. Take your stolen loot and leave us in peace. There's no gold, British or otherwise, to be found onboard this ship and you're wasting our time and yours. So there's little need for pointless displays of unconvincing flirtatious gallantry."

Cory's eyes narrowed as he regarded Benjamin, hesitated, and then gave a short bow to the ladies once more, saying, "Very well, we'll leave you to your own devices shortly and you can commiserate together on the loss of our company."

There was a little collective moaning sigh of disappointment from several of the women, including Rosalee.

"'T'will be no loss, Captain, I can assure you," one gentleman said stiffly, angry at being robbed of his gold timepiece and coinage.

"Actually, I'm not the captain," corrected Cory. "I'm merely the quartermaster aboard the free ship, Vita Aeturnum." He grinned again, contagiously. "At your service."

Benjamin burst out laughing. He was quite unable to help himself. There was something too hilarious about an Immortal residing aboard a pirate ship called 'Life Eternal'. He tried to stop, but the mirth simply would not remain contained despite his best efforts at dignity.

Cory turned back to Benjamin at his outburst, and then realized what he was laughing at. He grinned, getting the joke. And naturally only another Immortal would be able to comprehend the humor and Benjamin had outed himself, proving to this fellow that he was indeed the source of Cory's own quickening when he'd come aboard. He regarded Benjamin for a moment, then said, "Walk with me." He turned to go.

Benjamin got the feeling it was a suggestion, not a command. He fell in with Cory as the man began to make his way back along the long row of people, towards the hastily erected gangplank between the two ships. The pirates were moving swiftly, obviously well versed in this exercise that they no doubt had visited on many ships previous to this one.

"Bravo, for the entertaining performance, which of course was to give your men a chance to slip below. Although I fail to see why you bothered. No one was really in a position to stop them."

Cory snorted. "No sense drawing attention to it and maybe riling one of your crew who might possess more guts and temper than is good for the situation. This way, we all get through it with a remarkable lack of corpses to throw overboard when all's said and done."

Benjamin said, his grin belying the sneer in his tone, "I suspect that good woman has wet her drawers. Proud of yourself, are you?"

"It was only in fun," Cory protested. "I wouldn't have harmed the filly, or even separated her from that old harridan. Besides, the men wouldn't stand for it - the Code doesn't allow women on board, let alone despoiling them." He gave Benjamin a funny look. He lowered his voice, turning it into a smoky whisper for Benjamin's ears alone, with a slight smile. "You should know that. Unless, of course, you were deliberately trying to draw attention - to yourself."

"Oh, I wouldn't bother - in your company," replied Benjamin with an answering smirk. "Certainly it would be a useless gesture when you're on the deck. You obviously have your act down. But I was telling the truth, you know. There isn't anything below decks worth seizing to add to your smuggled goods. It's all fairly mundane, as your men have probably already discovered. So there is little point in my attempting to make a spectacle to match yours." He gave him a penetrating, knowing glance. "Besides, I think we both know *your* little secret. Still, you also know mine and every true sailor knows when to keep his mouth shut. I trust you aren't going to make an issue out of this?"

Cory's hand went thoughtfully to his neck, almost defensively. "Indeed," he answered dryly. "You are traveling with the Portuguese, but I reckon that your loyalties lie with the British. I'll warrant though that *you* would stand to gain a lot from seeing my head separated from my shoulders, even if you didn't do the deed yourself."

Benjamin rolled his eyes slightly. "Please. I wouldn't bother. At least you're not a Spaniard. Then I would have to challenge you, on principle alone." The Spanish were notorious for raping, pillaging and causing general distress in their wake. Many 'gentlemen of fortune', men such as Cory, didn't take kindly to the ignoble actions of the Spanish, as they reflected badly upon everyone else who indulged in lesser acts of brigandry. But Benjamin wondered if Cory's 'pirate smuggler' act was really just a cover, or if he truly derived as much joy from the life of one as he seemed to.

"Good," Cory grinned at him again. "Then you won't mind accompanying me back on board my own ship. We can dine in my cabin, once you've gotten over the distress of being kidnapped." He signaled to several of his men who promptly seized Benjamin and began to hustle him towards the railing. Benjamin struggled but they far outnumbered him. He did not have his sword and besides, it was really only a token gesture on his part. He found himself curious as to the nature of this Immortal. The man clearly had a zest for life and was unlike any other Immortal he had ever met. His priorities seemed to be totally at odds with his Immortal nature.

Lacking the bloodthirsty trait of indiscriminate violence that Kronos had displayed, that indeed, he himself in earlier centuries, had reveled in, this Corwin Raines was still operating outside the laws of any nation and had to subsequently be a free-man, as some buccaneers were known. Cory had evidently put his lot in with the captain of a buccaneer vessel as a disguise, to avoid other head-lopping Immortals by remaining at sea. Certainly he was unlikely to meet many others of their kind out on the open ocean, which tended to lead Benjamin to imagine Cory was not after garnering as many heads as others were wont.

He found himself shoved bodily aboard the Vita Aeturnum, stifling another chuckle at the ironic notion of an Immortal hiding out as a pirate aboard a ship so named. As they began to pull away from the other ship, he wondered how glad he actually was that he'd not be pulling into port at Charleston. Cory had been right to mention 'monotony' earlier. This was far more interesting. It did however mean that he wouldn't be making landfall when he had thought, which irked him considerably. He was tired of long months at sea and wanted to feel firm ground beneath his feet again.

He had to admit that his perusal of the Vita Aeturnum proved her to be an excellently seaworthy ship from what he could tell, despite the rabble of the crew aboard her and the questionable agenda of her captain.

An older man with white whiskers and a somewhat grouchy demeanor, Captain Nathaniel Taylor bellowed that they would make for the Devil's Island, as Bermuda was known. This was ostensibly where they had been headed before their little detour to intercept the Portuguese. So, it was to be Bermuda and hurricanes instead of Charleston and cotton plantations... The notion was interesting merely because he'd never been there.

As he didn't make any outward show of making a nuisance of himself, the crew ignored him for the most part. He was left to wander about and watch. After a while, Cory came up to him as he was sitting gazing out to where the Dawn Star had ceased to even be a speck on the horizon.

"I apologize for the inconvenience," he said. "We can still see you get to your destination, later."

"Why, how generous of you," Benjamin said. "I'm a little more upset about my belongings. They're still aboard the ship you just sailed away from."

Cory squinted at the sun in the sky, and shaded his eyes with his hand. "Actually," he said, "I took the liberty of having them brought along and stowed in my cabin. I hope you don't mind; you'll be bunking with me. I can hardly have you sleeping with the rest of this lot. Despite the Code of Conduct which Taylor enforces, the men might see you as less inaccessible than a woman."

"Ah. So *my* virtue is at risk, and I'm supposed to be grateful to you for your protection, even as my kidnapper," Benjamin said with a slight grin. "And what makes you think that I'll have any problem skewering any of these lowlife scum if they decide to take a fancy to me?" His own eyes belied the sarcasm in his voice, but it did well to remind Cory that being an Immortal, and as yet an unknown quantity, it would not do to underestimate him.

"Well," said Cory, thoughtfully, "you don't appear to be the violent type and I'm willing to bet that you've been around for a while. Long enough to value life, at any rate. They didn't seem to have too much trouble getting you aboard, either."

Benjamin grinned. This guy had no idea. His own bloody history as one of the Four Horsemen was the stuff horror stories were made of. Luckily, his security lay in knowing that, in this current century, Methos was no more than a myth. "Perhaps I am as intrigued as you are as to what you really want with me."

Cory's grin slipped a little and he regarded Benjamin with a more careful eye. Cory mused, "Oh, I'm already quite aware of what I want from you. Your story, your company for a time, until we make landfall." That intense gaze, the charm of the man, along with the accompanying hum of the Immortal presence in Cory's body, was doing a fine job of awakening Benjamin's sense of... adventure.

"Which would be when?"

Cory shrugged. "Not long. A day or so. There is an island near here. This route passes remarkably close to it, but it's out the way enough that most ships don't come close enough to reveal its existence."

"Ah. A haven for miscreants, then," Benjamin said.

"Actually, a small colony. We're free men, of course -"

"Of course," Benjamin said.

"-and as such we share a common purpose of democratic business in these waters. If it weren't for the Spanish, these people wouldn't have the reputation that they do."

"Why, no," Benjamin interrupted again.

"The Brethren of the Coast, they're called, and you'll find that most of the common people in the Spanish Main regard them as heroes against both the Spanish and the Ruthless Robbers, the killers, sharks of the sea. Most of them are grateful, naturally, for the protection-"

"Naturally," Benjamin put in, with a little smile.

Cory raised his brows, turning to him. "Would you believe that the re-distribution of wealth, from the fat French and British governors of the islands in the Caribbean, to the commoners, is our foremost endeavor beyond the profits we turn from smuggling?"

"Very noble," Benjamin agreed, nodding slightly.

Cory grinned at him. "Indeed."

"Petty thievery is of course hardly a noble pursuit. One has to wonder why you would need to stoop to robbing travelers of their personal possessions." Benjamin's smile widened as he wondered if he could rattle this man.

But Cory was apparently unrepentant. He merely chuckled and said, "You'll notice that we only took from the wealthy folk. There are a lot of escaped slaves and poor laborers on the islands who will benefit from the occasional bauble. Most of this crew is composed of honest men, believe it or not. Besides, we can't really do a lot of sacking near Bermuda - the Royal Navy has its post there and they'd probably end up catching us if we tried to do much at those docks."

At this, Benjamin spread his hands. "I have no quarrel with that, or with the crew. My quarrel is with you. I expect you to compensate me for the inconvenience of detaining me."

Cory laughed quietly under his breath. "I'll let you name the price of your companionship."

"That depends," Benjamin said.

"On...?"

"The duration."

Cory shrugged and leaned against the railing, looking out to sea once more. "Again, that's up to you. We can get you passage to Charleston as soon as we arrive, if you wish."

Benjamin said, "Oh, now you know I really have to ask. What exactly do you expect to achieve in a single day's travel with me?"

Cory continued to watch the sea as the ship passed through the waves below them. "I'm sure the novelty will wear off by then."

Benjamin paused, a little taken aback at the swiftly-growing fondness he felt for this younger Immortal; younger, but no less compelling for all that Cory seemed not to care for beheadings. Methos tended to avoid challenges, himself, and could well understand the man's view on the whole head-lopping affair. He replied, "I really don't feel any urge to join you in your smuggling activities, no matter how lucrative they might prove to be. Nor do I want to get involved in the politics of the Bermuda colonies or His Majesty's Navy outposts. My chosen career is in medicine, actually."

Cory raised a brow at him, regarding him with a different sort of expression. He looked impressed. "Saving lives? Very noble. You're a doctor, then? And you still haven't told me your name."

"Doctor Adams. But you can call me Benjamin." He held out his hand.

Cory shook it. "Cory Raines, but you can call me - " he stopped, with a bright grin, "the Robin Hood of the 1700s."

"Yes, I gathered that. I'm still trying to figure out which you enjoy more: the prestige or the profit." But he didn't voice it as an accusation.

"Neither actually, though both are nice enough. It's the thrill of the adventure, plus the satisfaction of seeing those happy little faces on the poor when you hand them gold that means they'll be eating again. The journey is its own reward. Surely you've noticed that, in your own years of wandering up and down the globe?"

"If that's an oblique way of asking me how long I've been around, I can safely say I don't remember," Benjamin remarked. "It's been a long time. Sometimes it seems too long."

"Well, I have to admit I *was* rather curious. The years tend to become a bit of a blur after a while, don't they?"

Benjamin had to admit to himself that Cory was far too easy on the eyes. He was having a hard time trying to find any disgruntlement at the man's actions in bringing him aboard. He was surprised at his own reaction to this Immortal; he had thought his own sensual, vital passions had been dampened after all the years of indulging them. They had slaked off in the last three hundred years, noticeably and inexplicably, after all his attempts to control them. But around this man, they reared their heads: a desire for companionship, real humor beyond the dry sense of irony, and even physical desire. He could read it in the other man's eyes too; it was returned. Here was an opportunity to enjoy the quickening in a way that few Immortals learned to do, in the pursuit of mutual benefit rather than the taking of heads and power. That, and the fact that this man seemed to have no real ethics to speak of, and seemed to prioritize 'fun' higher than other pursuits, left Benjamin with the distinct impression that Cory's intentions were undoubtedly running parallel his own.

"They do." There was no mistaking the inviting challenge in Benjamin's tone.

Cory shot him a look at this. Damn, but the man possessed lashes that framed his brilliant eyes with a dark fringe too long and too pretty; and those same eyes were almost a little too large for his face... Benjamin reigned in his wandering thoughts, and tried to follow what Cory was saying, in that velvet, husky voice that reached warmly down into one's blood like brandy, "...and you haven't even asked where we're going."

"I assume you'll tell me when you want me to know."

"It's a small colony on an islet called Marina Flora. There's a cove and a few lagoons..." Cory hesitated. He was gazing out to sea again, biting his lower lip thoughtfully in an unconscious gesture that went straight to Benjamin's groin. "They're good people, Benjamin. You're here as a guest, not a prisoner. We're not holding you hostage, nor do we intend you any harm. But I wonder if I could ask you to just spend a little time there. They're in need of a good doctor. Often, small colonies and smugglers' coves require medicine even more than money. You'd be in popular demand wherever you went in the Spanish Main. And certainly Charleston has enough doctors, whereas Marina Flora has to make do with what they have. Sadly insufficient, I'm afraid."

Benjamin grinned at him. "Do I believe my ears? Are you trying to recruit me?"

"It's just a suggestion. You might like it there. I promise there's less politics involved than in Charleston." Cory sounded serious.

"Very well, I'll tell you what. I'll keep an open mind."

"Good." Cory saw one of the crew approaching them and he clapped Benjamin on the arm. "I'd better see to some things. Dinner, later, all right?"

"Surely."

Cory went off to talk with the seaman and Benjamin returned to his gazing out across the open sea. The sky was so blue it was like a soft jewel above, endlessly smooth and deep. The sea was still frothing with waves though, and they made good progress with the wind. A few white clouds piled up in the east but nothing worth worrying over.

Later in the evening, as the sun sank in a blaze of tropical red and gold below the sea, he was in Cory's cabin, ensuring his papers and chests were in order. Whatever Cory's duties aboard the Vita Aeturnum entailed, they obviously involved more than overseeing the running of the ship and the division of spoils after pirating. Most pirate ships actually ran on a democratic basis, with the captain acting as little more than a figurehead. Necessarily so, for the captain ran the risk of instant mutiny if he looked to lord it over the 'free men', and it was so with most buccaneers, although the famed sea robbers and privateers could not lay claim to such a reputation. As quartermaster, Cory actually had more power than Captain Taylor, and was elected by the crew. Doubtless he'd proved himself to them and Benjamin realized that Cory probably provided the very template for the term 'gentleman of fortune' in both word and deed.

Benjamin knew he was in danger of falling for this one. It was too easy to imagine a few days, weeks, even months in the company of someone with such a scintillating, rascally personality. He knew Cory had lied when he'd said he figured it would take only a day for the novelty of their meeting to wear thin. The man simply hadn't wanted him to feel pressured into this, despite snatching him off the other ship.

He went through Cory's possessions, noting the journals and the few items that marked an Immortal who had obviously spent more than a single lifetime accumulating personal objects of significance.

By the time Cory came in, followed by another man who was helping him to carry food into the cabin, Benjamin was sitting on the bed and reading a book. He got up to help them. They soon had the small wooden table laden and set and the crewman left them.

"I trust you've made yourself at home?" Cory asked, sitting down and helping himself to the food.

"I have." Benjamin joined him. It was humble fare but by no means insubstantial.

"We'll eat better on the island," Cory remarked.

"*This* is far better than I've had these past few weeks," he replied. "Thank you. But I'm surprised you're not dining with the Captain or the others."

Cory gave him a look. "You're my guest. You don't think I'd just leave you here, do you?"

"Hm, yes. I'm not so blind as to believe that I hold much importance in the eyes of this ship's crew."

Cory swallowed his mouthful and regarded him with surprise. "Didn't you hear me, earlier? I believe I explained the need for doctors - you would be a valued member of the crew if you threw in your lot with us."

"I knew it," Benjamin declared. "You really *are* trying to recruit me. So, what is it to be? Doctor and surgeon by day, cabin boy by night?"

Cory snickered at him. "Somehow, I don't think you could pass for a cabin boy if you tried."

"That's assuming I would want to. Is that a challenge?"

"You said it yourself; I didn't. I wouldn't disrespect you by implying you'd be considered my cabin boy," he paused, his glass still raised half-way to his lips, "although, I can see how it might keep some of them off your back. Or should I say, backside?" He grinned and then sipped.

"I would have thought you'd have more of a problem with that than I," Benjamin countered.

Cory actually choked. He placed the glass back on the table and coughed, his eyes watering. Then he began laughing. "It's a good thing we're traveling together then, for a small while. We can protect each other from others' over-eager attentions."

Benjamin raised his own glass. "Ah. But who will protect us from ourselves?"

"I think it is too late for that. Best intentions notwithstanding."

"That's assuming I need protection from you or anyone, of course."

Cory chuckled, "I'm willing to bet that you were a hell-raiser in your early days. Am I right?"

Benjamin lifted his glass in a small gesture of salutation. "And you were a well-intentioned, well-behaved boy, weren't you?"

Cory's eyes were dancing on him, as his lips curled in an almost private smile. "That would explain why you're now the considerate doctor and I'm the villainous brigand."

"It doesn't explain why you should be so concerned about the safety of my backside. Especially seeing as my virtue departed many hundreds of years ago. I would have thought that you'd be more concerned about fighting off the advances of drunken sailors. You know, the ones who've been at sea for far too long to care whether you wear a gown or not." He impishly met Cory's gaze. "Unless of course you're referring to the fact that you have me at your mercy here in your cabin for the duration of the night. Should I be worried about your intentions?"

"I'm beginning to think I should be worried about yours," Cory muttered, pouring himself too much wine.

Benjamin's smile widened. But he didn't answer that one. He turned his attention to his plate, although he felt Cory's eyes on him. Curious, he asked, "Who's seducing who, here?" as he finished his supper.

A mite testily, Cory reminded him, "As your host, it would be proper for you to allow me to finish what I started."

"Very well," Benjamin acquiesced. "But you'd best get on with it, my dear chap. I am hardly in need of a long courtship ritual. You've already got me where you want me," he pointed out.

"You're taking all the fun out of this," Cory accused, almost in the manner of a boy who'd been deprived of his toys. "Hasn't time taught you any patience yet?"

Benjamin shrugged. "Not really. Prudence, maybe. But what kind of question is that coming from an English vagabond on a smuggling run?"

Cory sighed and drained his glass. "Thanks very much for ruining the mood," he said, wryly.

"Tell me something though, what is it that you smuggle the most?"

"At the moment, the most frequent merchandise happens to be runaway slaves. We aid them in getaways, setting them down on other islands to give them a chance for freedom. Bermuda is used as a slavers' port."

Benjamin frowned. "I thought the British banned slavery."

Cory snickered. "You don't honestly believe that they can enforce that? Here?"

"Of course not," Benjamin replied mildly, "but I would have thought it would be a political bone of contention."

"Oh, it is," Cory assured him. "It's not the only one, either. It goes against everything that the free-men, the buccaneers, stand for." He met Benjamin's eyes with a flicker of a challenge of his own. If Benjamin insisted on talking about the physical issue of mutual attraction between them, Cory wasn't going to speak of it at all, in his obvious relaxing at the change of subject.

But Benjamin was chuckling silently to himself. "I'll bet your men have a wager on. I'd even bet that they've got someone posted to listen out."

Cory's smirk was barely disguised. "It wouldn't be the first time. And it won't be the last."

Benjamin lifted his brows at this. "One wonders how many hearts you've broken on this ship alone, to say nothing of the Marina del Flores."

Cory shook his head. "Marina Flora. It's a bastardization in the translation. A little Italian, a little Spanish. It's supposed to mean ocean flower."

"I'd bet gold that it means trouble for the Spanish and the British alike."

"We do what we can," Cory said, a promise in his eyes.

"It's not *your* fight," Benjamin reminded him.

Cory shrugged. "It's still amusing. And it passes the time."

"Until what?"

Cory stood up and slowly drew closer to him before leaning down slightly and saying in a lower voice, "Until this," and with a slow hand to the back of Benjamin's head, he leaned down to touch his lips to Benjamin's, briefly.

The accompanying resonance that ran through both of them was like a lightening discharge, despite the softness of the touch. Benjamin felt the flash of heat surge through him, leaving a specific hunger in its wake. But Cory had pulled away and was stepping to remove a pile of objects from atop a sea chest before rummaging about in its depths.

Muttering to himself, Cory finally withdrew an ancient-appearing parchment sealed in a bottle to keep it waterproof. Unrolling it, he handed it to Benjamin. "Have a look."

It was a map. A glance at the date revealed it had been drawn in 1675. It was a detailed view of the Spanish Main, including many islands that were not on any of the known maps of the current day. Benjamin looked up, surprised. "Is this an original?"

Cory nodded. "A lesser known explorer painstakingly dedicated many years to getting all of this down. It's quite accurate. It gives us an edge, of course."

"'Us'?"

"The Brethren of the Coast," Cory explained. "I just thought you'd like to see it. So you'd know that *we* know where we're going."

"The only enduring forces are time and change," Benjamin mused cryptically, as he pored over the myriad of islets drawn on the map. "With those as your constants, maps like these are outdated all too quickly."

"True. But this one is still more complete than anything anyone else will produce in, say, several more decades."

"Fascinating," Benjamin remarked.

Finally, he looked up. "There was a time when the bloodlust in me gave way to the craving for new discoveries, exploration. These days, I find consolidation and the application of knowledge is more of an achievement."

Cory smiled at him as he began to carefully roll up the map. "Relax. I'm not trying to recruit you into our cause."

"Just into your bed." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Benjamin almost laughed at the expression on Cory's face. "Forgive me, I really am spoiling it for you, aren't I?"

Cory was shaking his head. "I get the feeling you don't like being aboard this ship."

"*Any* ship," Benjamin corrected. "I had a bad time on a boat, many years ago." Memories of Iceland and that cold, long voyage surfaced like ice floes in his mind. He suppressed them. He was far from either that climate or those conditions.

"Then I shall have to undertake to make your stay aboard this one as pleasant as possible," Cory said, coming to stand over him once again. This time however, Benjamin didn't want him moving away so quickly. He took hold of Cory's wrist and pulled him downwards, ending up with Cory in his lap. It was a little like a spark in dry kindling for suddenly Cory's mouth was all over him, warm and welcoming, the taste of the wine shared between them.

The hum of the energy between them was enough to galvanize him to return the fire of Cory's enthusiasm. He was holding Cory tightly; their mouths still sealed together, a new exploration. So much for loneliness, he thought. But Cory's arms were around him also, the closeness and intimacy of it surprising after all the man's playfulness. There was a tinge of desperation there, too. After all, how often did one find another Immortal, who was just as likely to forego the beheading for once? And replace it with a smaller, more manageable death?

As they feverishly plucked and tore each other's clothing away and fell across the bed, their kisses still ravenous - each feasting upon the other, Benjamin wondered briefly if the death of dreams, delusions and thirst was a price high enough to warrant a little happiness.

Cory, naked and sweat-slick against his own body, was a revelation to him. Animal strength and beauty, laced all-throughout with that Immortal flame that burned and glowed with embers of promise as they touched. Somehow, he'd ended up on the bottom, beneath Cory, and he found he didn't mind. Let the younger man play the host as he'd wanted to - it was enough to lose himself for a little while. Just to let time pass all unknowing.

And then there was the added old-yet-strangely-new sensation of Cory's hard length pressing against him, as he drew up one knee to allow Cory to enter him. Gods, yes, hard, full, to be possessed -

He cried out, the sound muffled by Cory's mouth trailing over his, wet lips and tongue burning him with fire tracings. There was a primal decadence in their union, and yet it had all the dignity and grace of a civilized dance. He could not hurry the pace, for Cory was taking Benjamin in his own time.

And then there was nothing but the rising bank of flames that licked at the back of his mind and seared his skin with the immediate desire to be fucked, like this, with abandon. To let go that control for once, with someone he couldn't destroy in any way but one. And Cory proved he knew it too, for he was thrusting into him now with little regard, almost as if he sensed exactly what Benjamin needed: hard, premeditated and yet feral. Indeed, Doctor Benjamin wasn't present - it was all Methos now, his soul revived in the wild delirium and the savage beauty of Immortal union.

Then Cory's hand was upon his straining cock, pulling it with long, jerking strokes, and he was coming, going, flying, falling, flaming, dying... as Cory released into him with pained yet somehow relieved groans, the sound of their voices together melding just like their bodies and the twin-flame of their energy. The energy spun out and around, enclosing them in a strange cocoon of invisible light and Methos was sure that he could feel the quickening even now, only as a fading song rather than a lightening strike.

In his aftermath, he was dimly aware of Cory pulling the cover over them, cramped as they lay together in the small bunk. Cory pressed a sincere and lingering kiss to his cheek, then another, before settling back behind Methos with his arms around him.

Part of him wanted to weep, another wanted to exult with fierce delight. But the act of remaining human was enough to remind him that even this moment was stolen from the gods, like giants stranded among tiny creatures, giants who dare to steal fire from the sacred heights of unknown beings.

He slipped into darkness, lulled by the slap of water outside, heard distantly as if from very far away, and lulled also by the comfort of Cory's arms about him. Let tomorrow come; he would not fight time nor change. It was enough to enjoy a haven now and then.

Finis

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

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