A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with this story! This was supposed to be a simple one-shot, but it grew! I hope you enjoy the epilogue!

Bristol – mid 1700s

The port city of Bristol was much like it had been the last time Flint had seen it: bustling, filled with every sort of smell and grey. To be sure, it had grown in the last however many years it'd been since he'd set foot on English ground, but it still had the feel of a city full of people in constant motion.

He'd spent the morning running various errands and when some of his old scars started to ache too much in the cold and wet weather, he'd headed back to the small inn beside the harbour. He read the book he'd picked up at a bookseller's with ease and enjoyed the silence of the room.

However, when a familiar hitched gait approached the room, Flint looked up from his book. Silver walked inside without any kind of a greeting and Flint aimed for an impassive expression, but the way Silver scowled at him he supposed he fell a bit short.

"Problems?" Flint asked, and aware that he wasn't getting back to his book anytime soon, he closed it and let it rest on his lap.

"He didn't have it," Silver said.

"Who didn't have what?" Flint replied.

"Billy!" Silver said his eyes narrowed. "Billy fucking Bones didn't have my fucking map."

Flint frowned. "You went looking for Billy?"

"No, I sent Pew after him," Silver said sitting down heavily in the captain's chair. "The bastard didn't have the map on him."

"He could have hidden it away," Flint said. "Did you ask him?"

"No."

"Did Pew?"

Silver shot him a glare. "You know that Pew isn't one for interrogation."

"Well, then what are you –"

"He's dead."

Flint paused. "Pew's dead?"

"No," Silver said with a sigh. "Billy is. He died. Heart attack, they said. After he got the black spot." Silver chuckled. "I can't believe it. Of all the fucking irony."

Flint stared at Silver before he said, "I'm a little confused. Are you saying that Pew found Billy?"

"Yes."

"And that he delivered a black spot to Billy and Billy, the same Billy who instigated the return of the black spot myth himself, died as a result of receiving one?" Flint summed up.

"Yes, fuck, I'm sorry, all right?" Silver said. "I should have said something to you. But I heard he was there and I had to –"

"Where?"

"What?" Silver asked.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Flint said leaning forward. "Where did Pew find Billy?"

"The Admiral Benbow Inn, in Cornwall," Silver said his eyes narrowed. "Why?"

Flint sat back in his chair. "He's not dead."

"What?" Silver's voice went low and hard.

"Billy Bones isn't dead," Flint said.

"And you know this how?" Silver asked, his voice a steel trap but Flint was well used to navigating that particular deadfall.

"Well, I can't say that I know for absolute certain," Flint said. He nodded at the large desk. "But read that treatise there. It was recently submitted by a man up near the northern Welsh border."

Silver kept his eyes on Flint, but slipped the article off the desk.

"The last paragraph in particular," Flint said letting his head rest against the back of the chair.

"'We will no longer be satisfied being the sole means of production in the region'," Silver read. "'Not when there are opportunities to be had in the southern parts of the country. There is plenty of wealth and work to go around and we will not stand for being held hostage by a government that only accedes to the titled.'" He paused, and then finished, "'Unless all of us are considered free, none of us are free.'"

He looked up at Flint. "Just because it sounds like him-"

"And there's this," Flint said pulling a scrap of paper from his book and tossing it to Silver.

He caught it and looked at it, then chuckled. "This is from the fucking society pages."

"Read it anyway," Flint said smirking.

Silver cleared his throat and affected a posh tone, "'The latest society functions in Manchester were given something of a start when the long, lost Lady Abigail Ashe,'" Silver sat up, "'now Mrs Abigail Manderly, attended. The young lady hadn't been seen since her dreadful kidnapping and the death of her most-beloved father,'" Flint snorted, "'but she looked radiant and happy on the arm of her husband. The Manderlys' land near Wrexham has turned a healthy profit and there is some talk that they'll be trying their hand in local politics. Rumour has it, they both love a good argument, and who knows if they'll be rearing their son, Henry, for politics." Silver stopped and then continued, "If their daughter, Miranda, looks anything like her mother, they'll have to fend the suitors away.'"

Silver stared at the paper while Flint stared at Silver. Eventually, Silver looked up and said, "Did Billy fucking Bones marry the fucking governor's daughter?"

"It would appear so," Flint said.

"How far is it to Wrexham?" Silver asked.

"No," Flint said shaking his head. "You're not going up to Wrexham to see whether or not Billy still has your map. You don't need the map; I'm old, but I can still remember enough about the island-"

"It's not that," Silver said. "I want to make sure he doesn't ever use it. I'm not going to have that money taken from me again."

"Billy was never in it for the money," Flint said making a face. "God, he was in it for the crew. He never gave a damn about the treasure. Let him live out his days as a fucking sheep farmer."

Silver studied him. "Is this because you murdered Gates and her father? Is this what you do when you kill someone's father figure? You always had a bewildering soft spot for him."

"No," Flint said. "I have a soft spot for her. I'm not going to let you go and murder her husband."

Silver glared at him for a moment, and then said, "I'm going after that gold."

"You know she doesn't care about the gold," Flint said with a sigh. "She never did. She cares that you come back to her."

"She's a queen," Silver said matter-of-factly. "And she's running a revolution and as we both know, those aren't cheap." He met Flint's eyes and reluctant excitement stirred in his belly. "I'll leave Billy to his domestic bliss, but I'm going after our gold."

"As if there was any doubt about that," Flint said as he nodded once more at the desk. "There's a list of all the able-bodied men that should be within five miles of Bristol. They're the ones to start with."

Silver grinned and Flint closed his eyes and shook his head, utterly resigned to his fate, but grinned back anyway.

The things he did for love.

A village outside of Wrexham – a few weeks later

Abigail blinked down at the article in the broadsheets just handed to her by the local postmaster and wondered if she and Billy hadn't somehow been spared a terrible fate?

"Mama? Are we going home now?" a little voice broke through her thoughts and she looked over at her children in the back of the small wagon. It had been Miranda who'd asked and Abigail couldn't help but smile at the little girl who had her father's eyes and her mother's straight brown hair.

"Are you ready to go home?" she asked them as she pulled herself into the wagon, taking up the reins with ease.

"Millie is," Henry, her son replied very seriously. "She needs to see that the lambs are in the shed."

Millie was a very young collie pup that had taken to the children far better than she'd taken to the sheep and Abigail feared that she had somehow ended up with a house pet as opposed to an additional work dog.

"Oh, does she?" Abigail said ruffling Henry's sand blond hair that had to come from his father as none of the Ashe's had ever had hair that colour. "I see. Well, hold on and we'll head home straightaway."

The children cheered and Abigail drove the wagon away from the little village a few miles from the farm. They kept up a steady stream of chatter and Abigail forgot, for the most part, about the article in the paper.

However, when she pulled into the farmyard and saw her husband wrestling with a truculent ram, she felt her heart pound within her chest.

Oh, God, she thought. Did I almost lose him? Please let this be the end of it.

He looked up when Miranda and Henry both called out respective, "Papa! Papa, we're back!"

The smile he gave was so far removed from the scowl she'd seen that first day on the Eloise. He looked happy and healthy and she couldn't help but smile at the sight of the children as they ran to him and he scooped them both up into his arms.

"There's my faithful crew!" he said. "I need two pairs of steady hands to help me. Are you up to the challenge?"

They answer was of course 'yes' and with a wink in her direction, he quickly had Henry and Miranda feeding some of the smaller lambs that the ewes had rejected.

He watched over them for a moment and with a nod to one of the farmhands, he made his way to Abigail.

"Did we lose many?" she asked, referring to the latest set of lambs birthed in the recent days.

"Only one," he said. "This year is better than last."

"Which was better than the one before," Abigail said nodding. "Do you know, I think this farming lark is working out for you, sailor?"

He grinned and pressed a quick kiss to her neck. "How was the village?"

"Fine," she said, then because she couldn't ignore it. "There's a story in the paper that you need to see. Later."

She met his gaze and he nodded slowly. "After they're out for the night?"

Abigail smiled and rose up to press a firm kiss to his mouth. "Try not to let them bring home any more animals."

"The barn cat had kittens last night."

"Oh, give me strength," Abigail said but she laughed as she headed inside to check the accounts and start supper.

Supper in the Manderly house was a far cry from what Abigail had grown up with, but more like what she suspected Billy had been accustomed to. The children talked about everything and Billy answered question after question, and Abigail chimed in and everyone ate with enthusiasm and she often wondered if her heart was big enough to contain all of the love and relief she felt when she looked around the table at her family?

Billy was the one who usually put the children to bed. It had been agreed that he was the best at reading the storybooks and Abigail would sit on the bed, Miranda and Henry curled up next to her as he read.

That night he read the story of the Minotaur and the brave Ariadne who gave Theseus a ball of string to mark his path.

"We'll have to try that when we go to the market," Miranda said sleepily.

"Mama, may we have some of your yarn?" Henry asked.

"I'll see what I can do," Abigail replied kissing their foreheads and tucking them in.

She headed to the sitting room and stoked the fire; she heard Billy give his own 'good-night's to the children and she waited.

Soon enough, strong arms wrapped around her waist and a warm mouth kissed her ear. "What happened today?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said as she turned in his arms and held him close. "But there is something you should read. It's in the paper that comes out of Bristol."

She pulled away and lightly pushed him into the armchair beside the fire. Then she retrieved the paper from her basket and handed it to him.

Absently, his attention already focussed on the paper, Billy pulled Abigail into his lap. She curled up into a wonderfully familiar position and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Fuck," he breathed after awhile. "They're going after the gold."

"The article's rather sensational," Abigail said. "It could just be a rumour. Everyone loves a good pirate story, they tend to sell well."

He shook his head. "No, it's them. Well, I'm sure some of this is embellishment, but I knew them, Abigail. And the truth was often far stranger and more fantastic than fiction." He lowered the paper and looked at her. "They either didn't bother with me, or couldn't find me."

"Good," she said lightly, although her fingers tightened on his shirt. "They would have had one hell of a fight on their hands if they had."

"So bloodthirsty," he murmured.

"You shouldn't have taught me how to fire a pistol," she replied.

"I'll never regret that," he said. "I think that's the afternoon we conceived Miranda."

Abigail laughed and pressed her mouth to his. "Are we safe?"

"As safe as we ever were," he said with a sigh as he kissed her back. "I've read that there have been several slave uprisings in the Caribbean. I imagine that takes a considerable amount of cash to maintain."

"You think that's why they're going to look for it?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Possibly. I'm not sure I care why they're going, as long as they go."

He surged against her, and kissed her with a ferocity that left her head spinning and her body aflame.

"This is mine," he said against her lips. "You are mine. I didn't want to have to fight them, but I would have. For you. For my family."

"I know," she said tugging at his clothes, while he pulled at her skirts. "I would have stood right beside you."

"Fuck, Abigail," he said around a groan as she shifted to straddle his lap. "I actually meant to talk to you about the flock numbers. I think we can get a better deal from the butchers."

"I know," she said not bothering to remove his trousers completely, just enough to free him so that she could sink down on him. They both moaned at the feel of him filling her. "I think we can negotiate a much better agreement."

He nodded and thrust up into her. "Later."

"Much later," she agreed.

In a village overlooking the sea, there's a grave with a simple wooden marker that reads 'Billy Bones'. The local seamen love to tell stories about the man who told tales about the fearsome pirates and their murderous ways. Eventually, the wooden marker faded to nothing, weathered away by salty rain and wind.

But the stories…those remained.

The End