Tentatively calling this "Letter of Marque"
Gus: ...you know what AU I want, is the one where Chauncy finds Ed, not Stede
Etben: …tell me more
Gus: and Chauncy gives a version of that speech to Ed, who obviously shoots his head off in response, but the speech still gets to him
Etben: Oh deffo
Gus: because Chancy (Chauncy? Chaucey? whatever, the twin) tells him it's obvious Ed wants Stede, but he's not worthy
Etben: Well and also that Ed is a shadow of his former self and who would even want THIS Ed anyway? At least Blackbeard had SOMETHING going for him
Gus: Yes exactly
Gus: So ED leaves and goes back to like - his mom or something
Gus: like can't go back to the boat, can't go back to Stede
Gus: sadly does not have a Mary, unless you count Izzy which I don't
Gus: but he sails back to England or wherever
Etben: Oh noooooo buddy
Gus: (I'm curious about that actually because his mom worked for an estate, presumably in England, but she and their family lived close enough to a port and in their own shitty house)
Gus: (unless maybe the fabric scene is after Ed killed his dad and his mom had to go into service?)
Gus: (anyway DETAILS)
Gus: I don't think I'd want his mom to be like, dead or anything
Etben: Nah
Etben: She remarried, maybe? She’s doing fine
Gus: like maybe she's even happy
Gus: omg what if Ed has little brothers and sisters
Gus: and is like WHAT ARE THESE
Etben: Omg I would SCREAM
*
"There's a man asking after you at the market, mum," Tommy reported from somewhere behind the large bag of flour he was holding as. "Help?" he added as he banged into the table for the third time.
Rachel guided him to the slightly lower bench to the side, and he put it down with a thump. "Good Lord, Tommy, I'm not baking for the whole town."
"You're baking for your first grandchild, and Henrie will throw an absolute strop if you don't make the thing with the—" Tommy made the criss-cross shape of the fairy buns that her three youngest had loved when they were children. "Besides, the midwife says it's to be sometime in the next week, so we'd best get to it," added Tommy, clapping his lightly-floured hands together. "Come along, you layabouts!"
"Enough of your sass," said Caleb from the other table, where he'd been working out the evening's loaves for the past hour. "What's this man who's asking for your mother?"
"No need to be jealous, my love," Rachel said, enjoying the huff of her husband's shoulders as he kept his grin facing the sourdough.
"I assumed it was one of the ribbon-sellers pressing for settlment of a bill, Missus Smythe," Caleb shot back, but when she leaned over to swat him, he gathered her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
"Ugh, get a room," Tommy moaned just as the bell above the shop door jangled.
"We have one," Caleb reminded him, and Rachel kept herself from giggling like a lass fifty years younger as Tommy stomped out into the front of the shop, his voice muffled by the curtain at the door as he spoke to whoever had come in.
"Hold on, I want to know what handsome man is asking about me at the market," Rachel protested, making a show of struggling against Caleb's hold. "Perhaps it's my Prince Charming."
"He's a bit late for his rendez-vous, you'll have to admit," Caleb said, giving her another kiss.
Rachel was about to murmur about how Caleb was as charming as any man she'd ever wanted — ever dreamed of, even though he'd been late too — and had rescued her better than any prince to boot. But she was thwarted by her youngest son, this time, making an unexpected appearance from the front of the shop and looking quite smart in his new frock coat.
"Tommy said you two were canoodling back here," Rich said accusingly, his hand darting out to grab a muffin before his mother could stop him. "Awful. Mr. Rhodes says one should always maintain a professional atmosphere at one's place of business."
"Mr. Rhodes is your master, Apprentice Smythe, not ours," Rachel reminded him as she broke free of Caleb's hold to snatch the half-muffin Rich hadn't already eaten out of his hand. "Speaking of which, what might you be doing here and not—"
"He sent me on an errand to get more ink at the market," Rich protested, holding up a bottle as evidence. "And while I was there, I overheard a man asking for a Mrs. Smythe, so I thought I'd tell you."
"This fellow is going to find Henrie next, bed-bound though she is, before he finds you," Caleb muttered; she didn't have to look back to hear the smile in his face.
"Hush," Rachel scolded, and held the muffin out of reach when her son made a grab for it. "And what else did this man say?"
Rich harumphed. "He said he knew you from a long time ago, back when you were Mrs. Teach—"
"Mrs. Teach?" Rachel said, her blood going hot and cold all at once. She reached out blindly behind her; Caleb caught her hand and let her squeeze. It probably hurt, but he said nothing as he held on.
Rich, with all the tact he'd ever had, seized his opportunity and the muffin. "Yeah," he said, a bit muffled as he stuffed it into his face. "Wanted to know if you were still alive, where you were, if you were well, that sort of thing."
"What — what did he look like?" Rachel could scarcely breathe for fear, or hope. Or both.
"See for yourself," Rich shrugged, turning to call behind him. "Sir? Mister — I'm sorry, I never did catch your name—"
"Edward," said Rachel's eldest son, stepping through the curtain as Rachel felt her knees turn to water. "My name's Edward."
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