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adam-memeleri · 4 years ago

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Hullos and Goodbyes

so ive never done an appreciation week before, but i saw @distantshoresaw coming up and decided to finally play ds earlier this month. ended up with plenty of inspo, so heres a short charlie-centric spin on canon :) hope im not too late yikes T Rating (fluff with a dash of angst, no warnings) Charlie x f!MC (Peyton Bellamy) ~3.7k words -

“Ah-ha!” Peyton flourishes a small, golden compass, gesturing for the cameras following her every move, “This compass shall be our salvation and -”

Peyton stumbles on a slick deck, eyes wild as she glances about, the scene before her unimaginable. Swords clash, the occasional pistol or cannon fires, and shouts echo across the open sea. It’s a battle, and looks more real than anything she’s ever witnessed on set.

She’s ripped into the fray by a shout, “Get off our ship, pirate!” a man barreling down the deck towards her, a sword raised above his head. He slashes, cutting her across the arm until she’s staggering backwards, barely keeping hold of her bearings.

Her jaw drops, at a loss as blood soaks her sleeve. “That - That freakin’ hurt!” Peyton finally manages, eyes still searching futilely. “Where’s the medic? And why’s everyone still fighting? Cut!” she tries calling, but no one even glances in her direction.

Another man has cut in between her and the first, stealing his attention as Peyton simply gawks, lost in the rage of the battle, more of a storm than the sea beneath the ship. She holds her arm to her chest protectively, a dawning something filling her chest.

“You! Girl!” booms, harsher on Peyton’s ears than any blast from the canons. It echoes in her ears, even as she whirls around, coming face to face with a furious, bright red naval officer, a pistol pointed at her chest. “Get off my ship, pirate!”

Peyton braces herself, tensing as he pulls the trigger. But the bullet doesn’t pierce her skin, doesn’t lodge in her gut. She’s thrown to the side, body hitting the deck as the shot whistles past.

Squinting, Peyton can just make out a familiar figure, one she swore she somehow saw back on set, only this time he appears more real than before, more flesh and bone than the mirage from before. “It’s you! But how…?”

“Are you hurt?” he asks, checking her for damage as he helps her back to her feet.

Peyton nods, still bewildered and panickedly searching the scene around them, from the woman laughing as she disarms a sailor, to the group of naval officers bearing down on her and the man before her. “I’m fine, but you should probably worry about them!”

He whirls around, spotting the raised swords before smiling back at her, “Ah, yes. Just a moment.”

“Edward!” The intimidating officer calls to him, face painted in a furious expression, “This isn’t over, you coward!”

The pirate - Edward - takes the challenge with a smirk, slipping back into the chaos of battle, as more and more shouts reach Peyton. She spins, finding the laughing woman from a moment before toying with a sailor.

“Surrender!” he shouts, slashing downwards.

“Surrender?” she guffaws, dancing around the deck in a taunt, “I’m just getting started.”

She drives him backwards, finally putting some effort into the fight, but smiling widely in amusement. His foot catches on rope, his leg nearly slipping out from under him before he catches himself, just barely holding the pirate off.

Peyton’s eyes follow the rope, see it loop over the main mast and back down again, right beside her. She grabs it, yanking with all her might as a startled scream sounds. The man’s wiped out on the deck when she looks back over, leg tangled in the rope and hands clawing at the tight grip it has on him.

The pirate spins around, a dazzling smile on her lips as she sizes Peyton up, pale green eyes skating along her body, “Hullo, love.” She finds Peyton’s eyes, her grin turning wicked as she winks, “Thanks for the help.” And with that she spins, waltzing back into the fray with her sword outstretched.

Peyton’s eyes follow her as long as they can, until a sailor’s stumbling before her, Edward locked in battle with him. He throws a dagger, the sailor’s sleeve catching on the tip and getting stuck to the mast, blade embedded in wood.

The fight rages on and on, swords and bullets singing alongside shouts and pained yelps, Peyton barely keeping her head about her. At one point another officer’s gaze locks on her, the man giving chase and slashing his sword incessantly at her again and again, grazing her already wounded forearm once.

She grimaces, weaving backwards through the crowded deck and jumping from every slice of the blade. It's hectic and a free for all, like a crowded cinema corridor after someone shouted fire, but somehow infinitely worse. Maybe it's the weapons.

“Retreat!” Edward bellows from across the deck, a body slumped at his feet and a pistol pointed at him. “Everyone, back to the ship!” he darts away, rounding up as many people as he can, and holding back the rest.

The intimidating officer from before, still just as furious, whirls around, blazing eyes landing on Peyton. “You there!” he rounds on her, rushing forward to cross the deck, shoving aside sailors and pirates alike.

“Move it, love!” the pirate with the green eyes from before swoops in before Peyton can react, appearing from seemingly nowhere and taking hold of Peyton’s uninjured arm at the last second. She hauls her back and away from the naval officer, dragging her towards the railing, every moment too quick for Peyton to keep up with.

The brunette's free hand sheathes her sword before fastening around a rope, her gaze finding Peyton’s as it gleams with mischief, “Hold on!” She releases Peyton’s bicep, her arm curling around her waist instead before they’re flying through the air, nothing but the sea beneath them.

“Oh my gosh!” Peyton shrieks, grasping at the pirate’s shoulders as wind whips her hair, a loud laugh sounding from beside her. Her face buries in the woman’s neck, the breeze on her skin at odds with the warmth from the body holding her.

From her first glimpse of the sea to hurtling over it, this day just keeps getting wilder, only a few stray thoughts of the set and her lines in Peyton's mind. Now all she can focus on is the flush on her skin and the tight hold around waist from the beautiful woman that might have just saved her life. Or doomed her to a drowning at sea.

The pirate’s still chuckling when they land on a neighbouring ship’s deck, and Peyton’s still shocked, arms tight around her assumed rescuer.

"Ye can let go now," she teases, carefully extricating Peyton from around her with a cheeky grin. A blush rises to Peyton's cheeks before her jaw drops open, baffled as she looks around the new ship and the bustling crew. “Hullo and welcome… to Poseidon’s Revenge,” the pirate grins, bowing and gesturing playfully.

“Um. Thank you,” Peyton nods stiffly, her hands wringing before her as she avoids piercing eyes.

“Don’t look so glum. At least over here no one’ll try to kill you,” she teases Peyton. “For the most part,” her smile falls for a second, before increasing tenfold, her hand jutting out in invitation with it. “I’m Charlie, this here ship’s quartermaster, and pleased to make your acquaintance…” she gestures expectantly.

“Peyton,” her palm collides with Charlie’s, shaking as enthusiastically as she can manage. “Peyton Bellamy. And, uh, hello.”

---

Peyton rolls over in the bed of the Captain’s cabin, sleep evading her as she tosses and turns. The ship quieted hours ago, the pirate partiers finally turning in sometime after midnight, the soft lapping of waves against the hull now the only sound.

It’s almost eerie, a calm before the storm of tomorrow, a cloud hanging over Peyton as she twists beneath the duvet, chasing a sleep that won’t come. She huffs, staring out across the Captain’s quarters at the furniture and decor, bathed in the night’s lights.

The door creaks open, a head of dark hair popping in, “Well hullo there.” Charlie’s grin is electric as she steps further inside, dramatically hanging from the door frame with that dark hair spilling down her shoulder, moonlight shining along its waves.

Peyton smiles right back without a second of hesitation, fumbling upright on the bed, the duvet splayed over her lap. “Hi,” she greets, heat rising to her cheeks in the low light.

“Alright?” Charlie’s smile dims, replaced by a growing softness in her eyes as she crosses the quarters, dropping beside Peyton’s folded legs. “Up pretty late,” she notes, eyeing the woman across from her.

“So are you.”

“Aye,” she snickers, “but I’m a pirate, I don’t play by the rules. You don’t strike me as the night owl type,” Charlie reaches out, prodding Peyton’s knee with her usual devilish grin.

“I’m not,” Peyton’s hair shifts as she shakes her head, unkempt in the late hour.

“So what’s keeping you up?”

Shrugging, Peyton laughs coldly, the warmth in her cheeks dissipating with it, “Oh, just my impending trial and probable execution. Nothing too serious.”

“Ah,” Charlie nods, her smile nowhere to be found for once, “That.”

“Yeah. That.”

“Y’know, love, for what it’s worth,” she nudges Peyton, “I don’t think yer a witch.”

“No?”

“Nah,” she shakes her head vehemently, expression serious, “A witch would be sneakier. And less smiley,” her grin breaks back out, one hand raising to poke at Peyton’s smile lines, the dents only growing. “Hmm. Less blushy too, I reckon.”

Peyton’s hands snap up to hide her face and the dark blush painting it, “You can’t even see my face! It’s dark!” she fumbles a protest.

“Saw ye when it was light out, though,” Charlie snickers, “All I hafta do is look at ye and there yer cheeks go.”

“That’s so not true,” Peyton’s features twist in a scowl as her hands lower slightly, frowning up at the pirate.

“I’m not judging. I know I’m simply irresistible.”

Hands lowered entirely, Peyton crosses her arms beneath her chest, eyeing up Charlie, “I know you less than a day and you’re already hitting on me.”

“I was focusing more on myself, love, but that doesn't mean yer not lovely.”

Peyton chuckles under her breath, shaking her head as the pair settle against the wall, their eyes roving absentmindedly. “Shouldn’t you be trying to get some sleep?” Peyton starts, finding pale green in the darkness.

“Shouldn’t you?” Charlie counters easily.

“I told you,” Peyton shrugs, deflecting. “Can’t really sleep when I know I’m dying soon.”

“Yer not gonna die.”

Peyton’s shoulders raise in a halfhearted shrug, “Robert certainly wants me to,” she murmurs beneath her breath.

“Robert’s not the captain.”

“You’re not either.”

“No,” the pirate concedes, “but Edward’s a good man. He won’t let ye die.”

“You swear?”

Charlie’s raises her hand over her heart, “I swear on the grave of someone’s father.”

A laugh bubbles out of Peyton, quirking her lips in an easy smile, “But not yours?”

“Mine doesn’t have a grave.”

Peyton shifts forward, inquiring curiously, “Do you visit him?”

“Not really.”

“Why not?”

“Takes more than a few drinks to get that story out of me, love,” the dark haired woman winks, tapping Peyton teasingly on the nose.

“I can wait,” Peyton nods determinedly, features still split in a tiny grin.

Charlie’s lips curve in a soft smile, her head gently thumping back against the cabin’s wall. A silence permeates the space between them, easy as the water outside, the tiny streams dripping down wood to rejoin the ocean.

“How’s yer arm?” Charlie finally breaks it, nodding to the wrapped arm cradled in Peyton’s lap.

“Hurts a bit,” she mumbles, turning it over.

“Lemme see.”

Charlie carefully takes Peyton’s arm, touch light and delicate as her fingertips ghost along her skin, carefully unbandaging the wound. “Did ye dump alcohol on it like ye made Samuel do?”

“Mmhmm,” Peyton hums from deep in her throat, watching cautious fingers dance atop her skin. “Stung like a bitch.”

A surprised laugh bursts from Charlie’s chest, hands pausing as she’s caught off guard, “Then don’t mix blood and booze next time,” she chuckles.

“There better not be a next time,” Peyton grumbles, glaring down at the cut.

“Well then,” Charlie shifts, folding her legs as she holds Peyton’s arm in her own lap, carefully redressing the wound until the wrapping is once again snug on Peyton’s skin. “You’ll be good as new in no time,” she beams, “It’s not that deep.”

“That’s what Samuel said.”

“He’s the doc for a reason.” The pirate stands, patting the other woman’s knee. “Now get some sleep,” before starting towards the cabin’s door.

Peyton lays back down, tugging the duvet back up. “Thank you,” she calls after the retreating form, watching the shadow pause and glance over her shoulder.

“Just get some sleep, love.”

With a nod, Peyton pulls the duvet to her chin, “Bye, Charlie.”

“I don’t like goodbyes,” Charlie turns, hanging from the doorframe once more with an easy smile, the smallest crease in her cheek. “Only g’nights.”

“G’night, Charlie.”

“G’night.” She calls back once more before letting the door fall closed, a strange, unfulfilled silence seeping into the cabin in her absence.

---

Peyton stretches out on the bed, groaning as her sore muscles tense and relax in a wave. Above her, Charlie chuckles, collapsing beside her and poking at her ribs until she attempts evading the jab. “Alright, love?”

Squirming upright, Peyton’s fingers pick at the hem of her shirt distractedly, gaze avoiding the curious green irises beside her. She clears her throat, forcing her shoulders to relax, “...Yeah.”

“What’s weighin' ye down, love?” Charlie nudges the woman’s knee, poking her until she looks up, trepidation swirling in her eyes.

“Nothing. We won,” Peyton’s lips pull into a forced smile, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “We won and now we’re free. Everything’s perfect.”

“You’d be happier if everything was perfect.”

“I am happy,” her smile grows, just as artificial and just as unconvincing.

Charlie sighs, her expression drooping, “Love -”

“Can I ask you something?” Peyton sharply cuts her off, impatience tight in her words.

Charlie nods casually, but her brows knit together, “‘Course.”

“What happens if everything’s not perfect?”

With another heavy sigh, Charlie scoots closer, wrapping an arm around Peyton’s shoulders as the latter curls into the former’s side. “What’s wrong?” she repeats, tracing slow circles along Peyton’s back.

Peyton doesn’t answer for a moment, fingers fidgeting with a button to occupy herself. “Remember when I said I saw something else? Where I was alone?” she whispers.

Nodding, the pirate hums in acknowledgment, fingernails scratching lightly as they trace a hipbone.

“It’s coming, I know it,” Peyton’s whisper harshens. “It’s coming and I don’t know what that means for you and I hate that.” Her hands ball into fists, knuckles whitening as she stares at them, entire body going rigid.

A chuckle bursts from Charlie’s chest, good natured as she jostles Peyton playfully, “It means I get more rum to myself!”

“Charlie,” her tone’s on edge, with cracked words, “I’m serious.”

“Aye, so am I,” the joking tone drops from her voice, replaced with as much urgency as Peyton’s. “I know what I saw, and that was me and you in the future. I don’t care how messy everything else is, I know those moments are perfect and that’s what’s coming.”

“Still…” Peyton heaves a sigh, her head lolling forward, weighed down by a million thoughts. “Okay,” she puffs up her chest, turning to face Charlie and taking her hands in hers. “Okay," she repeats to convince herself. "Even if everything’s perfect, I need to say something just in case.”

“That sounds like a goodbye.”

“It is. It doesn’t have to end up being final, but I just -” Peyton sighs, frustrated and gesturing wildly before forcing her hands down. “I want to say goodbye in case I need to.”

“But yer comin’ back,” Charlie’s head cocks to the side, confusion in light green, “And I already know I’ll wait for ye. No point in goodbye.”

“Charlie…” a hand scrubs down Peyton’s face. “Please. I don’t want to regret it.”

“Aye,” Charlie concedes, nodding in acceptance. “Don’t regret it again,” she whispers the last few words under her breath, just to herself.

“Charlie Smith,” Peyton starts, sucking in a deep breath, squeezing the hands in hers, “Thank you, and goodbye. Thank you for opening my eyes to what I could be, and to what else is out there. Thank you for saving my life more times than I could probably count, thank you for teaching me how good rum is -” Charlie chuckles “- and thank you for - for letting me care about you.”

“Goodbye… Charlie Smith.” Peyton lifts their interlocked hands, pressing a soft kiss to Charlie’s knuckles.

“Well, Peyton Bellamy,” Charlie says in a low, teasing voice, “I should thank ye, too. For putting up with our crazy lot, which is no easy feat. And for watching my back around contacts, or mutineers. And for being there, even when I’m up in the middle of the night, or drunk off my ass, or grieving a man that never liked me.

"And for letting me care about ye too, and letting me learn how to care. I wasn't always sure, I could, but you've proved to me again and again and again and again and -”

"And again," Peyton giggles, tears welling in her eyes as she bites her lip, fighting against them and squeezing Charlie’s hands tight.

"And again." Peyton sniffles, with a smile - a real, genuine smile - quirking her lips, with a soft laugh shaking her shoulders. “Thank ye and goodbye, Peyton Bellamy.” She mimics Peyton, lifting their hands and kissing the other woman’s knuckles.

“Who knew a pirate could be so sweet?” Peyton gives a watery laugh, taking back one hand to wipe beneath her eyes.

Charlie chuckles back, thumb brushing over the palm still in her grasp. “Aye, sweet as candy. Ye feel better now?” she questions carefully, dipping her head to catch Peyton's gaze.

“Yes,” Peyton nods resolutely, a deep breath relaxing her posture.

Charlie’s palms find Peyton’s cheeks, warming them as she tilts her head down just enough to press a kiss to her forehead, “See? Everything’s perfect.”

---

“You ready?” Robert’s gaze flickers up to Peyton’s, cautious as his hand rests a few inches above a small, golden compass.

Her jaw clenches, shoulders rigid beneath her top, her own hand poised. She glances across the museum, halting on painted pale green eyes staring back at her, a smile in them even on canvas. “As I’ll ever be.”

Her fingers brush the cold metal, a jolt alighting throughout her body in response, the world distorting around her. Robert and the museum are replaced by swirls of blue and purple, distorted colours and images as time rushes past her. Glimpses of different eras, of typewriters and candles and pots of ink, of poofy skirts and corsets and wigs.

Her feet hit dirt, knees nearly buckling as she reels from the impact, unsteady on her feet. Wood and a carefully constructed building has been replaced with grass and open night sky, displays and antiques replaced by a distant dock and candlelit windows. Tiburon hums with life, even in the late hour, with ships towering over the waters a ways away.

Eyes open in bewilderment, Peyton’s jaw hangs open, gaze roving curiously over the scene before her. Her eyes pause on a figure walking down the path before her, head down and arms full of supplies, burlap sacks and bundles of cloth. Dark hair billows in the light breeze, curls floating like a waving flag, but far more beautiful.

The figure pauses a ways down the path, freezing on the spot. Familiar eyes find Peyton's - so, so familiar. Like a jade, vibrant even in the dark of night, and even brighter as they widen, almost disbelieving.

“Hullo,” Peyton exhales, an anxious smile on her lips.

Charlie’s jaw has gone slack, the grip of her hands loose, cloth held within them slowly falling to her feet. She takes a few tentative steps, her pace quickening as one hand extends cautiously, as if she’s expecting the woman before her to dissolve in a mirage.

Only she doesn’t. Peyton’s real, and here, solid flesh and bone beneath the moon, with the cool night air brushing her skin. Charlie’s fingertips brush her cheek, and a light explodes in her eyes, an excitement that was previously masked by hesitation as she jolts to life, wrapping Peyton in the tightest hug she can.

“You’re supposed to say hi back!” Peyton giggles loudly, breathlessly, into her shoulder, her own arms curled around Charlie’s neck.

“Hullo!” the Siren Queen cheers, spinning the woman in her arms around and around, “Hullo forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and -”

“And ever! I get it!” laughing, Peyton buries her face in Charlie’s neck, her feet finally finding the ground once more.

“If you want a hullo, I’ll give you a hullo,” Charlie laughs, giddy and just as breathless. She pulls away, jade colliding with Peyton’s own eyes as she stares into them, imploring and excited. “I told ye it wouldn’t last. And look at ye, back again.”

Peyton shakes her head, more fond exasperation than anything else before her eyes scan their surroundings. Scan the distant lights of Tiburon, the grass beneath their feet, the lapping of waves on a beach a ways away. “When is here exactly?” Her eyes find pale green, find the beaming smile in light irises, “How long was I gone?”

“Three weeks or so,” Charlie’s shoulders lift in a shrug. “The crew was startin’ to call me crazy,” she grins, chuckling at her own expense.

“Oh gosh,” Peyton’s hands clap together excitedly, “the crew! I missed them!”

“Ye wanna go say hullo? Seems Robert’s beaten us to it,” Charlie notes the man’s absence, glancing about momentarily. "Or gotten up to somethin' nefarious."

Peyton hums in contemplation, her hands rising and one nail tracing along Charlie’s jawline, “Just a few more moments..." Her fingers slip into brunette tresses, the gaps between them filling with soft strands as she gently tugs Charlie closer, the already small gap between them disappearing.

“Well, hullo there,” Charlie nearly purrs, smiling against Peyton’s lips as her arms wrap tighter around her waist.

#idk how i feel about this but i wanted to try and participate adfdgf #distant shores #choices fanfic #charlie smith #charlie smith x mc #dsaw #dsappreciationweek #the blog said to use tags idk man #distantshoresaw #dsaw day 2 #ive got ideas for a part 2 but idk if anyone would want to see them outside my brain sooo assdfdd #and this was written while watching criminal minds cuz kam got me too invested

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