Chapter Text
Ahab already had a long life, full of sagas and anecdotes, from the most mundane to near-miracles, but never had she seen such things, nor had she even heard of it.
It was the beginning of August, and even though they were in Edinburgh, the temperatures should have been at least livable. But no. It seemed like the Devil himself had taken control of the weather and was attempting to send as many people as possible into Hell. It had been snowing since 12:01AM, and the snow had piled over so much that even the horses were having trouble advancing, which did not help Starbuck’s nerves, nor Hagar’s. They had decided to pull the weakened woman on a makeshift sled through the iced streets, Starbuck endlessly rambling about how it will be fine, they would find a doctor whose door could still be opened despite the ice covering everything, Hagar would give birth to a beautiful child, and they could all help her take care of her baby. Ahab remained silent, keeping her thoughts to herself and pulling the sled with a strength that belies her elderly appearance, her grey gaze observing the crystallization covering the entire city, making birds rain among the flakes. The people reminded her of a gift her father had given her long ago, back to a near-forgotten time when she had nothing for herself and her father still tried to direct her to a path more suited for a young lady: a small mechanical dancer, a figure remaining frozen in time eternally, for she never played with it, not even once. Like she did to this unmoving dancer, on this cursed day Ahab walked past these frozen people, ignoring the anguished gaze of the man behind her.
“Eh… That li’l one sure chose his time to get out, huh?” Starbuck tried to crack up a smile, but it came out as an awkward grimace. Still, it was enough to make Hagar let out a chuckle, before she groaned of pain, probably due to another cramp. Ahab could still imagine Starbuck, or at least the young man he used to be back then, raising his face to her. “Captain…”
“I know. We just have to keep going for a bit longer.”
And so they walked. Ahab wondered if, like the people who had tried their luck walking outside and like the few salmons which, their instincts probably messed up by this accursed weather, had swam all the way up to the freezing water of Leith, some even hopping out of the water only to be frozen mid-air, forming small arches with the now crystallized drops of water that they had pulled along, the horses, cab and the driver had also been covered in this pale embrace and kept still like her little ballerina was. Another bird sure was, mid-flight, and Ahab had to duck to avoid receiving it in the face, but a gasp behind her reminded her that there was someone there, too. Fortunately, the frozen block smashed itself in little pieces on the ice of the waters they were walking on, and not on the woman they had been pulling along.
Ignoring Starbuck’s gaze on her back, Ahab kept on walking for a bit longer until they reach a small, narrow staircase leading back up to the land. Starbuck took Hagar on his back without complaining even once, despite the tears of the woman falling in hailstones on his neck. These little white pearls looked like mint candy. Ahab climbed first, carrying the sled, and Starbuck followed. He seemed ready to put Hagar back on the sled, but Ahab stopped him with a gesture, and walked up to the house in front of them, kicking the thin coat that had started to form on the door until it shattered, and then opening the door for her sailors to hurry in.
In there, a world of warmth and noises was invaded by the whalers, Ahab closing the door and growing rapidly annoyed at the mix of “cuckoo!”s and wheezing noises of the makeshift alarm system. She had always known Finlay to be a bit of a madman, but his idiocies can be frankly annoying. A dog would be a better guard than this pile of scrap. Still, as long as he could somehow save this situation, Ahab was ready to forgive him for making her have to walk up to this abomination and deactivate it.
“Who the fu- Oh, it’s you.”
The old man’s voice made the sailors turn to him, but Ahab knew it was not time to exchange news around drinks. Not right then, at least.
“Evening, Fin’. I need you to take care of…” She gestured towards Hagar, who was doing her best to handle the pain of labor. “... this, for me.”
“Are you fuckin’”
“Remember Agnes? You owe me, Finlay.”
The man had glared at Ahab, and would have probably chased her out of his workshop, if it hadn’t been for Hagar letting out a scream of pain at a particularly strong cramp. Having pity for the future mother, he sighed and gestured for Starbuck to follow him, which he did without question. Figuring that she should probably accompany her sailors, Ahab followed as well, her gaze focused on the back of the man in a wheelchair made by himself, noting how he had barely changed, only having lost a bit more hair during all these years.
Entering a larger room after the long, narrow corridor he made them go through, Finlay pushed away everything he had on a table, making even his most important projects fall on the floor as he ordered for Hagar to be laid on the table. He then chased both Ahab and Starbuck out before locking himself with Hagar.
“... Is he… reliable?” Starbuck asked, his gaze going from his captain and the door behind which his crewmate was giving birth.
“He has always been able to fix any people that came or were brought to him, and never one to ask questions or pose conditions. If one can help in this situation, it’s him.” Ahab answered, observing the intricate insides of an unfinished bird-shaped clock that had been thrown all the way into the corridor.
The next few hours passed rather slowly for the two sailors, Starbuck constantly pacing around in this long corridor, asking Ahab every two minutes if she was certain of herself, and the other minutes he weren’t bothering his captain, he was trying to bother her old friend instead, listening to the movements behind the door or trying to look through the keyhole, while Ahab was slowly starting to feel trapped beneath the fake eyes of the countless mechanical figures piled in the corridor and making it narrow in the first place. Even the bird she had picked up earlier had ended up being thrown into one of these piles of trash. Until, finally, Finlay opened his door, leading to Starbuck almost hurrying in, if it wasn’t for the grumpy old man blocking the door and looking right at Ahab.
“Come in.” He grunted, and when Starbuck tried to come in instead, he glared at him. “Not you.”
Leaving her sailor behind, Ahab walked in to see Hagar laying on the table, unmoving, and a small pack of old fabrics and cloth next to her. After a beat, the pack moved a bit, and a small hiccup, followed by crying came out of it. Curious about the little being that killed - albeit inadvertently - her sailor, Ahab walked forward while Finlay was closing the door and rummaging through his belongings.
It was a little bit of nothing, a small infant, its eyes still blue, its skin still red as it gulped its first lungfuls of air. The air seemed a bit brighter, a bit warmer around it, and the few bright locks of hair on top of its head seemed like a candle’s tiny flame, but most notable were the gears in its head, sticking out a bit from the right side of its head. Turning her head towards the old man who was drinking a glass of scotch, Ahab narrowed her eyes.
“Finlay?”
“Look, I can explain-”
“I do not care about your experimentations on people, but I do hope you’ve got a good enough explanation for… whatever this is.” She said as she gestured towards the baby.
“... It’s just how her mind is, now. She was made like this and that’s all there is to it.” Finlay bit out after a pause. He came closer, extending one of his pale hands with long fingers that made them look like a skeleton’s, or spiders, to gently hold the little thing’s hand. Seemingly unafraid, it held onto one of his fingers, its brightness seeming to give the pale old man a new spark of life. “... You really need to stop showing up at me door like that with desperate cases and dump ’em on me, Ahab. I can’t do this anymore.” His hands were trembling, and his glassy gaze was focused on the small thing and its mother. Another few seconds of silence passed before he could muster the strength to ask in a strangled whisper: “... What d’you intend to do with her, Ahab? Don’t act like ye’re a mighty saint, we both know tha-”
Whatever the old man wanted to say was cut short by the door slamming open. Starbuck, unable to wait for much longer, looked at the scene in the room, his eyes, too, fixated on the mother and her child. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, then closed it again, before he managed to take a few steps forward. Ahab stepped back when he finally reached the small thing, and froze when he saw her. Still, he took it in his arms as if it was the most fragile and precious thing in the world, despite how awkward he seemed, holding a whole-ass infant in these arms built for harpooning. He remained wordless for a few seconds, trying to compose himself, before glancing with sadness at the mother, and finally looking down at the old man serving himself another glass.
“... Did she… give him a name…?”
“...” Finlay drank his new glass empty, before mumbling above his shoulder: “She asked for her to be called Ishmael.”
Starbuck let out a small noise that sounded like a strangled sob, his eyes wet as he looked back down at the bit of nothing that fell asleep in his arms. Ah, right, Ishmael was a name he had suggested when Hagar was struggling to find any suitable.
Finlay then pulled Ahab aside, and the captain wondered if he would kick them out of his workshop, now that the job was done, but he surprised her.
“I’m gonna have to work on somethin’ for the kid to be able to focus more easily. You’ll, uh, stay around, right?”
Looking above her shoulder, Ahab watched Starbuck close Hagar’s eyes with one hand as he held the little pack of fabrics against his chest with the other.
“... Yes, we’ll have to stay near the land for a while. Unless you plan on k- babysitting her, Fin?”
“I’m too old for that…” He sighed and shook his head, before looking up at the woman. “Keep in mind that she is… different from the others. She should not have to fiddle with her gears for it to function, but be careful about hits on this side of the head, or bright lights or loud noises.”
“I’m even older than you, Fin, by your own logic, I shouldn’t have to take care of it.”
“Then act your age and retire.”
Ahab exhaled a small laugh, before turning to Starbuck, whom she knew was listening.
“We will have to warn the others of a new passenger and…” She glanced at Hagar. “... the loss of another one. This would complicate things a lot, i- she is not ready to cross the Atlantic right now.”
“We can take care of her, Captain. We just have to organize well enough, you would barely notice, I swear.”
“... If you do manage to organize yourselves, I do not mind. However, this would mean that we’d have to stay near the coasts of the U.K. for a long while. You do seem prepared for it, but would the others be?”
Starbuck seemed to deflate at this question, and he looked at the small child, as if it had the answers to his doubts. Remaining calm, Ahab turned to Finlay, not mentioning the concern she was seeing in his eyes.
“I suppose you wouldn’t kick out a newborn in this weather, would you?”
Outside, the snow had ceased, and the sun was back right on time to set, casting the melting world in a warm orange glow, making every lighter shade of color match the newborn’s hair.