We Foolish Things

Eleanor was rubbing at her eyes tiredly, finally contemplating blowing out the candles that lit her office and going down to the tavern for a nightcap before bed - when a knock sounded at her office doors. Normally knocking on her door would not alarm her, but it was late, far past the hour when any respectable business dealing would be conducted, and Eleanor's back tensed as the sound filled the room.

"Who is it?" she called out, opening the top drawer of her desk as she did.

There was a flintlock pistol inside of the drawer and Eleanor placed her hand over it as she waited for a response.

"Max."

Max's voice was faint as it fought against the tavern's noise and the heavy wood of the doors to reach Eleanor, but reach her it did.

Eleanor drew her hand away from the pistol and quickly closed her drawer. With the weapon safely hidden, she then lifted her hands to her head and checked her hair to make sure it was still in some kind of order. Once she was pleased with that, she gave her shirt a crisp tug, and then called out, "Come in."

Torchlight from the hallway filtered into the office as Max pushed the door open, and as always, Eleanor's breath caught at the sight of her. Morning, noon or the dead of night, Max was always a vision to behold and this night was no different.

Eleanor stood in a gentlemanly fashion as Max entered the room and remained on her feet as Max sauntered towards her.

"Good evening," Eleanor murmured, tipping her head respectfully when Max came within comfortable speaking distance.

"Bonsoir," Max returned, offering Eleanor a small smile before she turned her attention to the room around her, taking in the chaos. "It is too dark in 'ere to be reading," she commented a few seconds later when her eyes landed on Eleanor's poorly lit, paper strewn desk.

"I'd recently come to the same conclusion," Eleanor replied, her gaze shifting from Max over to the dark lantern that rested closest to her desk. It had spent itself an hour or so before, but Eleanor had lacked the motivation to get up and relight it. "I can …"

"Do not bother," Max interjected blithely, "Max was not planning on reading," she added as she slipped into one of the seats that rested on the other side of Eleanor's desk. "Besides, I …"

"Like candlelight," Eleanor finished for her, her voice soft and sweet with the remembrance of past intimacy.

"Oui," Max breathed out, acknowledging the truth of Eleanor's words though she did not look up at Eleanor to share in the moment. "You 'ave gotten messy," she observed a few seconds later, her eyes once again roaming the room as Eleanor took her seat.

She hadn't spent much time in Eleanor's office when they had been lovers, but she had been in it a few times, and on those occasions the space had been much more orderly.

"I never realized it at the time, but I think Scott must have routinely done some tidying up," Eleanor replied softly as her eyes drifted to the left side of the room and wooden cabinet that stood there.

Scott had liked to stand there, by the cabinet. He had always settled himself by it whenever he was in the office. Eleanor wasn't sure whether it was a conscious action on his part, or simply one of the habits people formed without ever really understanding why. But, when she thought of Scott, when she was reminded of him, her eyes always drifted to that spot, and her heart always ached when she found it empty.

"I suppose I'm still adjusting to life without him by my side," Eleanor added quietly, lost in herself for a moment before she shifted her gaze back over to Max to find Max watching her intently.

When their eyes met, Max's lips parted to speak, words already dancing on the tip of her tongue, but she held them back. She knew that Eleanor was only telling a partial truth about the state the office was in. It may have been true that Scott was no longer consistently around to tidy up after her, but Max had also heard enough talk about Eleanor's comings and goings to know that Eleanor had essentially been living out of the office since they parted, spending almost all of her nights in the small room adjacent the main one that housed her desk and papers. It was that constant occupation of the room that had led to the clutter, not just Scott's absence, and a part of Max wanted to point it out, wanted Eleanor to acknowledge that their parting had affected her. But drawing attention to Eleanor's omission would have been uncomfortable for Max, as well as being uncomfortable for Eleanor, because it would inform Eleanor that she still cared enough about her to keep her eyes and ear open for news about Eleanor's comings and goings.

"I 'eard," Max began, leaning casually back in her chair, "that Capt. Worth delivered to you a sizable shipment of silks and other rare fabrics."

"Heard from whom?" Eleanor asked as she too leaned back in her chair, relieved to feel the nerves that had been plaguing her since she had heard Max's voice begin to settle now that talk had turned to business.

"Who can say?" Max breathed out, shrugging her shoulders lightly, as if the answer to Eleanor's question was a great mystery of life that a mere mortal like herself could never hope to discover.

"You could," Eleanor replied dryly, a slight pout coming to her lips as she glowered at Max.

In the tavern, down at the port, and on the streets of Nassau, Eleanor was composed and controlled, concealing her true feelings from those around her. However, alone at night with Max, hidden away behind closed doors; Eleanor had been expressive and open. She had laughed freely, pouted freely, complained, plotted, teased and sulked. Eleanor had told her stories using silly voices and making funny faces to make her laugh. And when inconvenient knocks sounded at the door they were hiding behind, Eleanor used to moan dramatically and roll her eyes, theatrical as a moody toddler.

Max admired, desired and was often amused by the forceful, cranky version of Eleanor she witnessed in public, but it was the silly, sweet, vulnerable Eleanor she came to know behind closed doors that she had fallen in love with, and seeing the expression that was presently on Eleanor's face, Max could not stop herself from smiling affectionately.

"Oui, but I will not," Max breathed out, her expression turning neutral once again. "Loose lips are bad for business," she murmured. "It is enough to say that men talk, the girls listen, and then they talk to Max," she continued, leaning forward to rest her forearms on the top of Eleanor's desk.

The dress Max was wearing was far less revealing that anything she had worn when she had worked at the brothel instead of managing it, but the dress was not exactly proper either. The garment put Max's breasts on prominent display, as most of the dresses Max wore in the past and present did, but when Max leaned forward her breasts strained against the material even more and Eleanor could not stop her eyes from dropping down to take in the glorious sight before her.

"Max 'as come to you before with over'eard talk that 'elped your business dealings," Max continued, very aware of where Eleanor's gaze was directed. "Now Max 'elps herself."

Eleanor's eyes lifted from Max's chest as the woman's last words registered with her, and for a moment she held Max's eyes. It was true that things Max had overheard, or that she had learned from talking to the other prostitutes, had helped Eleanor out on more than a few occasions. However, back then Max had also always told her where the information had come from. Knowledge was power and Max had wanted Eleanor to be armed when she had walked into those business meeting. Knowledge was still power of course, but Max was using it arm herself now, and though it wounded Eleanor to be out of Max's confidence, Eleanor could not, would not, take umbrage to it.

"Fair enough," Eleanor murmured. She paused, took a deep, fortifying breath and then forced herself to continue. "None of the shipment has been purchased yet," she began anew, fiddling nervously with a few of the papers that lay in front of her. "If you go see Mrs. Le Feuvre she will set aside the customary nine yards of whichever fabric you desire."

Eleanor's words surprised Max, and for the first time that evening Max found herself uncertain how to proceed.

"I…" Max began. "That's not what…" she tried again, but this new attempt at speaking was no more successful than the first. "Max did not come 'ere for 'andouts," she finally managed to get out.

Fabrics did not make up a large portion of the goods that Eleanor fenced, but in the past whenever a stock of fabric had made it into Eleanor's warehouse, she had arranged for a portion of the fabric Max liked best to be set aside so that a dress might be made for her. It had touched Max deeply, this thoughtful gesture. She had been gifted necklaces and rings from clients in the past – and from Eleanor as well – but there was an intimacy to Eleanor having a dress made for her, there was a domestic romance to it that had charmed Max, and warmed her heart.

"They were never handouts," Eleanor stated quickly, her tone imploring as she gazed over at Max. "They were gifts for my …"

"Max is not yours anymore," Max interjected before Eleanor could finish.

"No," Eleanor agreed softly, looking back over at her. "I know that," she murmured before dipping her head down again.

She wanted to say more. She wanted to ask if no longer sharing Max's bed meant that she wasn't allowed to care about her, or to make gestures of friendship, but she held her tongue because she was certain that voicing her thoughts would cause strife between them and she did not want to fight with Max. She had hurt Max enough already.

"What's your interest in the fabrics?" Eleanor asked, deciding that turning the conversation back to business would be the best course of action.

"Buying some," Max responded glibly.

Eleanor stared at her for a moment and then sighed.

"I know that we are no longer what we were, but can you not accept one final gift from me?" Eleanor asked softly, her tone and gaze wounded as she stared into Max's eyes.

Max was quiet for a while after Eleanor spoke. Eleanor's initial offer to still have a dress made for her after what had happened between them had surprised her, and this second attempt Eleanor was making to convince her gave Max pause.

Max had not come to Eleanor's office with the intention of coercing a gift from her. If Eleanor had ever felt a sense of obligation to her, she had been freed of that burden months before. Max had asked after the shipment for a reason, but it was not to get a pretty dress for herself. What Eleanor was offering was something that Max did not need or want, but the significance of the offer was not lost on Max. Eleanor had her flaws, of that Max was very aware, but she had virtues as well. Eleanor was thoughtful, and when she wanted to be, she could be incredibly kind. She didn't show her soft underbelly to many people, she could not afford to in a profession that had her dealing daily with cutthroats and thieves, but she had shown it to Max, and she still continued to, and that was no insignificant thing.

Eleanor may not have loved her, but Max knew that Eleanor held affection for her, and she was not hateful enough a person to ignore that.

"It is kind of you to offer," Max said softly, carefully, taking her time to make sure that her words gave an accurate reflection of her feelings. "And it is appreciated … as is the sentiment behind it," she continued gently. "But Max needs more than nine yards and we both know that you cannot, nor would you, part with more than that free of charge."

"How much do you want?" Eleanor asked leaning back in her chair.

As much as she would have loved to disagree with Max's words, she could not. Her finances had been nearly depleted after her arrangement with Flint, her deal with Anne Bonny, and her efforts to free the slaves from the Andromache. Buying enough material to have a dress made for Max was a gesture she could have afforded, but purchasing a significant amount more than that would mean she couldn't pay all of her employees that month.

"Two bolts worth," Max replied.

In the privacy of her office, alone with Max, Eleanor made no effort to stop her expression from showing her surprise, and Max smiled at her, charmed – despite herself – by the precious display.

"That," Eleanor began, "is no small purchase."

"Which is why Max has come to you, instead of Mr. Wigham," Max replied.

Mr. Wigham was the largest mercer on Nassau. If you needed fabric he was the one you went to, but the price he paid Eleanor for the fabrics from her warehouse and the price he charged the good citizens of Nassau were wildly different. Max was aware of just how great Wigham's markup was, since Eleanor had mentioned to her how much she sold the fabrics for, and she knew that if she was going to be able to purchase the amount of fabric she needed, that she could not pay Wigham's price.

"I see," Eleanor breathed out, a small smile touching her lips.

It was smart of Max to come to her, to come to the source. Men were not the only ones who talked when in bed with a beautiful woman, and Eleanor knew that she had talked to Max about how much she sold the fabrics that came to her for and that Wigham made a very tidy profit doubling and in some cases tripling the cost when selling them to his customers. With an order as large as the one Max sought to make, dealing with her was the only way Max could afford the fabric.

"Purchasing through me still won't be cheap," Eleanor warned her.

"When is the purchase of silk ever cheap?" Max replied saucily and Eleanor smiled again, brighter and longer.

She had missed this. She missed the softness of Max's skin under her lips, and she missed the breathy French words Max panted as her fingers trailed over Max's skin and stroked between her legs. She missed the way Max draped herself over her body when they had finally exhausted each other, and all of the other physical intimacies they had once shared. But Eleanor equally longed for and mourned the loss of the emotional intimacy that had existed between them. She missed talking to Max. She missed joking with her, and sharing stories about the idiots they routinely encountered throughout their days. She missed simply being in Max's presence. She missed Max.

"The brothel must be doing very well," Eleanor commented, meeting Max's eyes.

"A brothel should always be doing very well," Max replied teasingly. "Poor management and poor stock are the only reasons for failure, and neither problem afflicts La Maison de Renard. What is your price?"

"The price will be contingent on which fabrics you purchase and how much you purchase of each kind. However, if called upon to estimate, I'd say somewhere around," and then Eleanor quoted a price.

Max smiled and leaned forward, putting her chest on display again as she readied herself for the negotiation portion of their meeting.

"You are not going to make this easy on Max, are you?" Max asked, not planning on making it easy on Eleanor either.

"I wasn't planning on it, no," Eleanor breathed out, her own lips curving up in a brash smile even as her eyes dipped down to Max's chest again.

"Good," Max purred. "It 'as been a boring night. Max could use some fun."

xxx

"Are you really going to force it from me?" Max asked, looking down at Eleanor from the side of Eleanor's desk, which she had gracefully perched herself on some minutes before.

"If you're promising me that proceeds from your venture will be used to pay back the loan you propose I give you, then yes, I do insist on knowing what exactly it is you're plotting," Eleanor replied, meeting Max's gaze steadily.

Max considered Eleanor for a few moments and then pushed off of Eleanor's desk and began to wander slowly throughout the office as she contemplated how to respond.

"You cannot breathe of word of this to anyone," Max stated firmly, turning to face Eleanor. "Surprise is of the utmost importance."

"I promise," Eleanor swore, softly but fiercely. "I shall not breathe a word."

Max watched her thoughtfully for a few moments and then began to pace through the room once more, considering whatever it was that she had seen in Eleanor's eyes.

"I am planning another themed event, like the Paris night 'eld after Max's appointment to Madame, but this … this will be on a much grander in scale."

The words fell from Max's lips at a leisurely pace as she turned to face Eleanor and then began to saunter back over to where Eleanor was seated.

"Word reached Max some weeks ago that Mr. Brimble will be 'osting a very exclusive party in a fortnight." She reached Eleanor's desk and began to lightly trail her finger along the edge. "Brimble's main goal is to secure business contracts with some foreign gentleman traveling on board a ship called the Raven," she continued as she perched herself on the edge of Eleanor's desk. "But invitations 'ave also been sent to most of the prominent families on Nassau and the islands within a few days sail of 'ere. In a fortnight," Max pronounced, her lips turning up slyly as she met and held Eleanor's eyes, "Nassau is going to swarming with nobles and Max means to make the most of it."

"Is that so?" Eleanor asked softly as she gazed up at Max, enthralled.

"It is," Max breathed out, her smile widening as she shifted slightly on the desk, the movement causing her leg to brush against Eleanor's. "Max's little mice already scurry, spreading the word around town that a grand show will take place at La Maison de Renard after Brimble's gathering."

Max shifted once more and when her leg brushed against Eleanor again Eleanor's eyelashes fluttered, and her eyes flickered down, tracing the outline of Max's thigh through her dress.

"Word of the show will reach the other islands long before the guests set sail," Max continued, her words drawing Eleanor's eyes, slowly, back up to her face. "In fact, Max would not be surprised if word reached the Raven before she even docked."

Max pushed off of the edge of the desk then and began to wander through the room.

"Mrs. Le Feuvre will need to provide Max with six dresses tailored for six different routines to be performed over two nights. Max 'as designs already for dresses in the style of the Orient and the Far East, as well as the lands of the Arabs, the Africans, and the native peoples of your New World. For the men who 'ave traveled, we will remind them of 'ow worldly they are, and for those who 'ave not, we will provide them with a glimpse of worlds and delights they 'ave only dreamed of."

"And you think this will entice enough people into the bro … La Maison de Renard to make this undertaking worthwhile?" Eleanor asked as Max made her way back towards her again.

"Oui," Max breathed out through a sultry smile. "The exotique," she pronounced, her accent coming on just the slightest bit thicker as she came to a stop in front of Eleanor, "sells. Max knows this well," she purred as she slipped easily onto Eleanor's lap, the movement well practiced though it had not been exercised in some time.

"The men will pay and pay 'andsomely for a taste of something different," Max continued, lifting her fingers to stoke Eleanor's pale cheek as the Eleanor gazed up at her, her expression so full of desire that she looked almost pained. "And when they 'ear that the next night's performances will be even more risqué, they will come again, and pay again, to come again."

Eleanor's lips twitched up at that, Max grinned back at her, and for a moment it was like things had not changed between them. Sitting there on Eleanor's lap as Eleanor gazed up at her, a gentle smile pulling up the corners of her lips, Max felt like she was home again. She felt like she had never left. For a moment it all felt so comfortable and familiar that Max very nearly forgot herself and almost leaned down to bring their lips together.

But eventually the moment passed, and when it did Max reminded herself that losing herself in Eleanor was not why she had gone to Eleanor's office, or why she had straddled her lap. She reminded herself that there and then, desire was to be her means, not her end.

"You're asking me to stake quite a bit of money on the arrival of a ship I'd never heard of before tonight," Eleanor commented softly, her eyes roving over what she could still see of Max's face.

"Any monetary venture is a risk," Max breathed out, looking up to capture Eleanor's eyes. "A fact you well know," she continued, her tone hardening the slightest bit as she stared at Eleanor. "Besides," she went on, forcing her voice to gentle, "the arrival of the Raven is largely inconsequential to Max's designs. The gentlemen on board the ship are Brimble's targets, not mine. Whether the Raven arrives or not, the other guests will flock to Nassau, and it is they Max seeks to ensnare."

The revenue from those moneyed clients paying for her special shows, and special drinks, and special menu of foreign sexual delights would add much to the brothels coffers, but the information that could she could gather on all of these influential people from having them under her roof was Max's true goal. There was much knowledge to be gained from the new patrons she hoped to draw into her web, and in the right hands that knowledge could be leveraged to achieve many things.

"You may 'ave more experience with business, but Max understands people … and desire," Max purred, lifting her hand to gently stroke Eleanor's cheek with the backs of her fingers. "They will come … and they will spend. Max knows 'ow to give people a good time. Or 'ave you forgotten?"

"You speak of impossible things," Eleanor whispered, blinking more rapidly than normal as her mind filled with memories of all the times she and Max had brought each other pleasure. Forgotten? The idea was laughable. The memories of her previous life with Max haunted her nights, and many of her daylight hours as well. Forgotten? Such a thought was madness.

"You flatter me. But it would flatter Max more if you trusted her judgement," Max breathed out before she leaned forward and gently brought their lips together, kissing Eleanor like she had on the night before their parting, like she had before things had gone sour between them, like she had when she was in love with her.

When Max pulled away from Eleanor's lips a minute later, Eleanor's skin was flushed, her pupils were dilated, her breathing was short, and her expression was one of pained confusion.

"What-" Eleanor began, her heart beating madly as her brows scrunched together in bewilderment.

However, before she could say more, Max leaned in again and helpless to resist that which she had been dreaming about for months, Eleanor surrendered to the kiss and Max, accepting both though she did not understand what was happening.

They kissed for a long time, Max's hand lifting to cup Eleanor's face as Eleanor's arms wrapped around her. Eventually, Max's hand trailed down from Eleanor's face towards her chest and took hold of Eleanor's breast through her shirt, drawing a breathy gasp and then a content sigh from Eleanor.

The sounds Eleanor was making pulsed through Max and settled between her legs, leaving her wet and throbbing with an intensity she hadn't felt since the last time she had been in Eleanor's arms.

In the first few weeks after her return from the beach, Max hadn't even been able to imagine herself in a sexual situation without wanting to pull a blanket over her head and hide from the world. But about a month after her appointment to Madame, she had decided to test the waters of desire with Anne Bonny, and she had discovered that she was still capable of wanting and enjoying sex.

Sex with Anne and sex with Eleanor were not the same however, and as Eleanor arched up to meet Max's lips, kissing her with an urgent, desperate, open need, Max realized just how much she had missed being touched by Eleanor.

Anne had proved to be a more than competent lover, but she was still Anne, gruff, taciturn, and standoffish, and as Eleanor's fingers found hers, lacing their hands together, Max realized that she had missed how open Eleanor was with her. She missed how willing Eleanor was to follow her lead. As Eleanor moaned into their kiss, Max realized how much she missed the delicious, soft, wanting sounds Eleanor freely made as Max's hands and lips pleasured her. She missed the way Eleanor looked at her with wonder, and the unabashedly sweet words that fell from Eleanor's lips as they consumed each other. She … she missed Eleanor.

In the months that followed their last night together everything between them had become so complicated, except, Max realized, for this. Out of the circle of Eleanor's arms, Max was constantly at war with herself, torn between polar opposites. She wanted to trust Eleanor but she believed that she couldn't. She wanted to be near Eleanor but she thought it was best to stay away from her. She wanted to comfort Eleanor but she also wanted her to feel loss.

Max was a mess of contradictions when it came to Eleanor, but for her desire for Eleanor, which was just and strong and true as it had ever been.

Max's kisses became more ardent as she shifted on Eleanor's lap and then began to tug Eleanor's skirt up until she was able to get her hand under it. When her fingers made contact with the damp fabric of Eleanor's underwear, Max moaned into her mouth and hurriedly moved her fingers beneath the fabric so that they were pressing against Eleanor's flesh.

Eleanor moaned loudly as Max's fingers stroked the length of her and Max brought their lips together again, drinking in Eleanor's sounds of pleasure.

Max may not have been willing to trust Eleanor with her heart anymore, but she could not deny that she still wanted this. They could not be what they were before, but as long as this mad need for each other pulsed in their veins, Max thought that perhaps they could still share something. When she and Eleanor had first become lovers she had not wanted to mix business with matters of the heart, but as things stood between them presently, she was willing to try mixing business with pleasure.

"Will you 'elp?" Max breathed into Eleanor's ear, her voice rough and hot as she stroked between Eleanor's legs with fingers that were already slick with Eleanor's arousal.

Eleanor's eyes fluttered open as Max's words registered with her, and before she was consciously aware of moving, her hand had slipped between her legs to grasp the wrist of the hand Max was using to pleasure her.

"Is that what this is?" Eleanor asked, cursing her voice for the way it cracked, and her eyes for the way they began to burn with tears that she was just managing to supress.

"What do you mean?" Max asked.

"This," Eleanor breathed out, looking down between them, to where their hands disappeared under her skirt, "What's happening between us right now. Is it just … an enticement? To speed along the conclusion of a deal?"

"Max was not planning to rush," the brunette purred, her lips curving up deliciously as she spoke though her eyes remained sharp and focused.

"I see," Eleanor rasped, blinking up at Max twice before her jaw clenched and she angled her head away, hiding her devastated expression.

She had thought that maybe … the way Max had been touching her, the passion and the tenderness, it had made her think that perhaps … but no … of course not. Though the bridge that linked their businesses remained, the love that had linked their hearts together had burned to the ground months before. It was foolish of her to think that Max had forgiven her, that Max was as desperate to recapture what they had lost as she was. What was happening between them was part of negotiation not a rendezvous. Max was just looking out for herself as, Eleanor thought sadly, she had taught her to.

"The desire is pure," Max whispered, seeing Eleanor's pain and wanting to soothe it.

She dipped her head down to press a kiss against Eleanor's cheek, but Eleanor shifted her face away and Max ended up playing a short game of cat and mouse with Eleanor until she was finally able to press her lips against Eleanor's cheek.

"We were good at this," Max whispered a second later, chasing Eleanor's cheek again before landing another soft kiss.

"We were," Eleanor breathed out tremulously. "But it was not the best thing about us," she continued, reaching for Max's hand and taking it into her own. "I don't want it like this."

"Like what?" Max questioned, allowing Eleanor to keep hold of her hand though her posture tensed and her words were somewhat strained.

"Like I'm nothing but a means to an end," Eleanor whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

Max was silent for a while as her honey eyes bore into Eleanor's ocean blue gaze, and then she breathed out, "Max understands. Max knows 'ow painful that is," before gracefully slipping off of Eleanor's lap.

Eleanor wasn't sure if Max's words were designed to penetrate through flesh and bone to pierce her heart, but that's exactly what they did, and the pain of it forced her eyes closed as she angled her face away from Max.

"I will not touch you again," Max stated expressionlessly from the other side of Eleanor's desk.

"That's not-" Eleanor began instinctively though she paused a moment later, uncertain whether or not it was wise to speak the words that were on the tip of her tongue.

"Not what?" Max asked, leaning forward to place her hands on the edge of Eleanor's desk challengingly. "Speak, Eleanor. For once, speak!"

Eleanor blinked at Max helplessly with wet, apologetic eyes.

"Max please," she breathed out pleadingly.

"Max tried to please you," Max bit out bitterly.

She could have been talking about what had been going on between them a few minutes before, or she could have been talking about their previous relationship. Eleanor was not sure which option was more likely, or which was more hurtful, but she supposed it didn't matter because either way Max's words were taken, they were true. When Max had offered her heart to her, Eleanor had broken it. And minutes before when Max had tried pleasure to her, she had turned her down, not wanting Max's body without having her heart as well.

"Yes," Eleanor sighed, unwilling to say anything else. "I agree to your terms. I'll advance you the money you need to make up the difference between what you have and what you'll owe," Eleanor continued tiredly, suddenly exhausted beyond words and desperate for their meeting to come to an end. "Is there anything else, or shall we say goodnight?"

"Max will keep you appraised of …"

"Don't bother," Eleanor sighed, finally looking over at Max. "I trust that my investment is in capable hands," she continued, smiling gently a Max before she averted her gaze once more. "Instructions will be sent to Mrs. Le Feuvre in the morning to provide you with whatever you need."

"Are you sure?" Max asked, unable to comprehend why she had asked the question though she could not deny that it had fallen from her lips. "Max could show you …"

"It's fine," Eleanor interjected calmly though she knew that she was going to have to get creative with how she dispersed her funds for that month. "I trust your judgement," she continued, offering Max a small but genuine smile. "Besides, you'll be paying it back with interest after the big event, won't you?" Eleanor asked, her smile turning playful.

"Of that you have my guarantee," Max replied confidently. "Et … merci," Max added gently a moment later.

Eleanor dipped her head down in acknowledgement of Max's words but she made no verbal reply so Max murmured "goodnight" then headed for the door.

"Max," Eleanor called out, finally finding her voice just as Max reached the door. "You were never a means to an end for me."

Max paused as Eleanor's words reached her and closed her eyes for a moment.

"Perhaps Max was not a means," Max breathed, a melancholic smile tugging up the corners of her lips as she turned to face the Eleanor. "But Max was not an end either."

Eleanor's expression turned pained as she gazed at Max, but though every inch of her body screamed with the desire to speak, Eleanor remained quiet.

The truth of the matter was that Max was and always had been an end for her. She had not been lying on that afternoon months ago, when she had told Max that she was fighting to create a place where they could have a life together. Controlling Nassau and turning it into a place of civilization as well as individual freedom was her dream, but she had also dreamed of sharing a life with Max. She had dreamed of waking up in bed with Max in a home that belonged to them. At night, watching Max sleep, Eleanor had tried to imagine what Max would look like with gray in her hair and wider hips, and the thought that she might actually be able to make a place where they could live their lives together and she could find out, had filled Eleanor's heart with so much joy that on more than one occasion it had brought tears to her eyes.

Max had been an end for her, Max had been her queen, but she had never said it out loud, she had never told Max of the dreams that blossomed in her heart, and then one afternoon she had made a choice and that choice had changed everything. She had not wanted to hurt Max, but she had. She had not wanted to betray Max, but she had. She had not thought that one decision could destroy their relationship, but it had. And now things were what they were.

"Get some sleep, Ellie," Max continued when Eleanor failed to respond. "It is not a weakness. If you keep on like this you will make yourself sick."

It was not her responsibility to look after Eleanor anymore, but she couldn't stop herself from caring, not even now after Eleanor had turned from her yet again.

"I know," Eleanor murmured sheepishly, glancing up at Max quickly before looking down again. "I'll try."

"Then you will succeed," Max stated confidently as she pulled the office door open. "You always do when you put your mind to something," she continued, holding Eleanor's eyes for a moment longer. "Bonne nuit," she breathed out, and then, before Eleanor could respond, Max slipped out into the torch lit hallway and pushed the door closed behind her.

Alone once again, Eleanor breathed in and out deeply and then rubbed tiredly at her eyes.

Max had left the room, but the words she had spoken hung heavy in the air and in Eleanor's thoughts.

'Then you'll succeed. You always do when you put your mind to something.'

There had been something in Max's eyes as she spoke those words. There had been something in her tone, something more, something deeper, something … challenging.

'Then you'll succeed. You always do when you put your mind to something.'

The words echoed relentlessly in Eleanor's mind and after a few minutes she sighed in consternation and shifted in her chair, angling herself to the side so that she was gazing out of the open slatted doors that separated her office from the wooden walkway that ran between the tavern and the brothel.

'Then you'll succeed. You always do when you put your mind to something.'

Was there really something challenging in Max's words? Was Max truly calling upon her to act, to put her mind to fixing them, or did she simply want Max to be challenging her? Her heart still longed for Max. Her love raged inside of her like a storming sea. But did Max feel the same way? Sometimes, when Max relaxed for a moment, she still looked at Eleanor like she had in the past, when she had been in love. And when Max had been on top of her earlier, her lips pressed to Eleanor's, Max had kissed her and touched her just as sweetly and fiercely as she had when they had been together.

'Then you'll succeed. You always do when you put your mind to something.'

Max's eyes had seemed to dare her, 'Put your mind to Max'. But did they really? Did Max truly want her back?

Eleanor did not know the answers to those questions, but as she stared out at the flickering lights of the town beyond her window, Eleanor realized that she was certain of two things: she wanted Max to be calling her action, and she wanted to rise to the occasion.

Max was no prize that she could win back like a ring lost playing dice, but Eleanor believed, she had to believe, that perhaps if she was patient, and honest, and true, that she could one day earn Max's trust again.

Fighting for Max would be a risky proposition for her heart, of that there could be no doubt, but if there was even the smallest possibility that Max could love her again, not fighting for her was unthinkable. Finally, after months of struggling with guilt and shame and fear, Eleanor understood that to let a love like the one they shared slip away without battling with everything she had, was beyond inexcusable, it was reprehensible.

She loved Max, she longed for her to the very marrow of her bones, but if their love was to stand a chance of flourishing again, Eleanor recognized that she had to act.

The silence that had fallen over Eleanor's office after Max's departure was broken by the scratch of wood on wood as Eleanor pushed her chair back suddenly and stood. Then, before cowardice and doubt could take hold of her again, Eleanor stepped out of her office onto the walkway beyond and began to follow it to the bridge that would led her to Max.

xxx

Max spotted Anne not long after she entered La Maison de Renard, but Anne was angry with her so she did not leave the table she was drinking at to greet Max, for which Max was grateful. Anne had not approved of her going to Eleanor for assistance, and after the encounter she'd just had with Eleanor, Max was in no mood to deal with Anne's moodiness.

Lowering her head determinedly, Max made her way through the brothel quickly, heading straight for the stairs and then her room. She heaved the door open, slipped into the darkness beyond, and then with a heavy sigh she leaned against the door tiredly, allowing the weight of her body to push it closed.

She stood there in the dark for a while, breathing in and out deeply with her eyes closed, but the attempt at meditation did not calm her and eventually she released an irritated sound and pushed away from the door.

Je suis un idiot, she muttered furiously to herself as she began to make her way through the room, lighting lanterns instead of candles in an irrational act of passive aggression against Eleanor.

Je suis un masochiste, Max breathed out, beginning to pace restlessly.

She'd thought … Eleanor had been so giving … and the way she had looked at her … but …

"Bah," Max spat out before flopping down onto her bed and covering her face with her hands.

Eleanor had been giving before but in the end in had meant nothing. Eleanor had looked at her like she would have launched a thousand ships for her, but in the end Eleanor hadn't been willing to risk one. Eleanor had always melted into Max's body like it was made just for her, but when called upon to choose, she had clutched at Nassau instead of Max.

It was madness, Max decided as she lay back on her mattress and stared up. J'ai perdu mon esprit, she thought, I've lost my mind. There was no other explanation for the pull she felt on her heart every time she saw Eleanor, or heard her voice, or even heard her name. Insanity was the only reasonable explanation for why she would continue to yearn so desperately for a woman who did not even care enough about her to try to fix things between them. It was time for her to accept that …

Max's heart skipped a beat when a knock came from her terrace doors.

Max sat up and stretched towards the head of the bed, another knock sounding as she slipped her hand under her pillow and grasped the dagger she had begun to keep there at Anne's insistence.

Another knock came, and then a voice called out, "Max."

Max breathed out in relief as she recognized Eleanor's voice.

"Max."

Max slipped off of the bed and made her way towards the terrace doors, which she pulled open gruffly before crossing her arms guardedly.

"It is late," Max breathed out, eyeing Eleanor apprehensively.

"I know," Eleanor breathed out. "It's important," she added, stepping towards Max though she did not try to enter the room.

"What is?" Max asked softly. "Why 'ave you come to Max?"

"To speak," Eleanor stated, softly but fiercely.

Immediately, Max's eyes lifted to meet Eleanor's, naked hope shining in them before a moment before Max managed to school her expression.

"Why should Max listen?"

"Because I love you," Eleanor stated with absolute conviction. "And I miss you, and there are things you need to know - things I should have said a long time ago. I beg you, let me speak them now."

Max studied her intently for some time after Eleanor finished speaking, but eventually she took a step back from the terrace doors to clear a path for Eleanor to enter the room.

"Entrer."

"Thank you," Eleanor whispered gratefully, stepping inside to join Max in the light.

The End