“Oh.” Was all she could manage, two letters, one syllable. Her honeyed voice holding so much in that tiny little word. 

Wonder at the sight of the bullet imbedded in the book. Horror at the ruin of such magnificent learning and relief that he was well. She reached out a hand, her fingers still trembling to circle around where the bullet protruded from the book. Brushed aside was her irritation at his jibe, his impertinent request for a kiss. For all that his [i]“I’m sorry”[/i] was whispered she heard it clear as a bell and more importantly she heard within it the honest regret. She understood that she was not the only one to grieve for the book. 

Her eyes blinked fast for a moment and then closed, her fingers stilling as the mask of ice shifted and fought to hold its shape. Ultimately Nicki won control of her expression because control was something very dear to her. She felt movement and a shadow fell over her and she looked up to see the lookout ruffle Jax’s hair and then leave the ship.

So soon? She wondered. Her man near dead several times over and something more important comes up? Nicki could not fathom what was so important that the woman would leave the Captain so soon. 

She bit her lip, an expression of childish confusion as she pulled herself back into the moment and into the repentant face of Monsieur Jax. She needed to say something, she knew, but she was not a think of pretty words and comfort, not any longer and the words did not come easily. But the remorse there called to her, echoed her own regrets in ways she couldn’t say. 

She pulled her fingers from the book and reached for the ties of his shirt, business in action as she began to speak.

“A book is a thing of paper, wood and leather. It is precious because of what lies within. It was a valuable book, but not priceless. It can be replaced, no knowledge is lost. A man is a thing of blood and muscle and bone. He is precious for how he lives his life and cannot be so easily replaced.”

She pulled his shirt open, exposing his sun bronzed skin to the warm kiss of sun. Her fingers danced over him, light and sure, professional and not as she took his measure, testing the soundness of his flesh. She could see under his skin the blooming of blood disturbed from its normal pathways but the bone was sound.

“Keep it.” She said, “Perhaps not all of it is ruined, maybe some of its treasures will be whole towards the end. If not then you have yourself a luck charm, hardly a bad thing to have about.”

She tugged his shirt over the distracting sight of his exposed chest and stood, her body catching the sun as she stood over him, framed by light which cast her marred face in shadow. She was too open for this, to open to be around people and wanted nothing more than the blessed dark of sleep, but it was morning yet and that sanctuary was a good long way off. She had her duties, to the ship, to her Captain. 

“Come with me to my cabin and I will give you an ointment for your bruise, it will speed the healing.”