Though Thomas was steadfastly defiant, his face could not refrain from cringing as the report of the first pistol shot rang out. So intent his focus had been upon Cooper, and the man’s own pistol, that Thomas could not comprehend who had fired. Even as strong arms enveloped his shoulders and sent him spinning round, Thomas could not be sure if was alive or dead. 

A second shot thundered, and Thomas cringed again. Idly he realized that he would possess no capacity for such expressions if he had been perforated by a pistol ball through the forehead, and that thought brought his eyes open. His vision had little time to focus however, when a third shot followed in quick succession. Once again his eyes flinched shut. 

“God’s blood!” he heard himself say as the echo of the three shots dwindled into the acrid powder smoke that drifted across the [i]Dusk Skate[/i].

He caught a glimpse of Jax, a spent pistol in his outstretched arm, and the First Mate clutching her own discharged weapon. Before her lay the bloody mess that was now Cooper, and Thomas had an instance of abundant relief and gratification before Antonia flung her arms about his neck, and pressed a body wracked with silent sobs against him. 

Still half stunned from his brush with an untimely death, Thomas encircled the rogue with arms that trembled with the fading waves of adrenaline. As Antonia’s lips brushed lightly against his cheek and ear, Thomas let out a shuddered laugh. It was a laugh that encompassed all the fear, anxiety, doubt, relief, joy, and gratitude that had all managed to press itself into the tumultuous span of only a few minutes. It was a cathartic and liberating laugh as well, as Thomas looked up into the bright blue sky and felt an overpowering sense of renewed calm. His friends, his crew, had shown their true merit, and in doing so they had given him a treasure more valuable and precious than any chest of bullion. He had been given devotion, loyalty, and love. 

Thomas smiled, hearing Antonia’s precious admonishments. He met her grey eyes as she pulled away, peering at the constellation of her features that made the rogue the exotic and striking woman that she was. 

“I plan on staying alive yet another while longer,” he said. With his thumb he reached up to brush lightly over the gentle arc of Antonia’s cheek. “And besides, the Devil himself isn’t prepared to take me yet, for if he did, he knows my soul would be in the ceaseless pursuit to gaze upon your face just once more. And by God I’d rip the very gates of hell open just to do it.”

Thomas leaned forward to kiss the rogue lightly upon her forehead before he looked up, his copper eyes moving from Jax to the First Mate.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice loud enough for all to hear. “The both of you…” Thomas raised and arm, sweeping it around to indicate the entirety of the crew, “…[i]all[/i] of you have humbled me today. I stand in your debt--”

He reached down to grip at Antonia’s hand, giving it a squeeze that was more for his own comfort than anything else. His eyes found Jax and the First Mate once more, his face becoming lined with gratitude and happiness.

“--And I am all the better for it.”