A/N-So apparently my last AU wasn't weird enough for me, so I'm trying this. Snapdragon83 and gypsyscarfwoman were throwing around ridiculous AUs, and gave me a pirate one. I LOVE pirates. I think they were joking, but the idea kinda stuck in my brain, but I didn't know where to go with it. Then itsfridaysomewhere gave a completely unrelated suggestion, but that made me realize what I wanted to do with this (Sorry, B, I am completely taking your request in a weird way. I'm sure it's not what you meant, but it inspired a lot of the plot of this story).
So, I took all of these lovely ideas and smashed them. I'm really not sure if this is going to work, but I feel like I want to write it anyway. Hence this completely insane Pirate!Jeller fic. It's T for now, but I highly doubt it will stay that way because, well, me. Have I mentioned this is completely ridiculous?
One final note…I did enough research to make this story somewhat plausible to its time, but I don't have the hours to make sure everything is entirely accurate. Please excuse any historical inaccuracies.
Chapter 1: Destiny
When Kurt Weller had dreamed of a life of adventure, he'd never imagined ending up imprisoned in the stale belly of a pirate ship, hungry and thirsty and generally miserable.
In 1712, while still only a boy, he'd taken a job loading and unloading ships at the port in New York as soon as he was strong enough to carry the requisite weight. It was by no means a well-paying job, but for the uneducated son of a drunkard, it wasn't bad work.
Sometimes his sister, Sarah, would bring him food at the pier, and talk about how one day she'd live in one of the finer houses in town, with a cook and a maid, and a husband who would have the finest dresses brought to her from overseas. Kurt would laugh and listen, often wondering what sort of life she'd truly find. He feared that she'd be wed off to a man like their father, and hoped to do what he could to prevent such a thing.
Kurt worked hard and complained little, and was often offered jobs on the merchant ships. He considered it, but when he thought of his sister alone with their father, it was more than he could abide.
As a teen one evening, he'd seen a man outside of a tavern, bloodied from a fight he'd clearly lost, as thieves searched him for spoils. Kurt had walked past, initially, tired after a day's work and wanting to find his way home and to his bed before the sun rose again too soon in the morning. But as he heard the ruffians plotting, he felt a pang of guilt and went back. The thieves were mostly young kids, probably hungry themselves, and they stared up at him when he approached. "We found him first," one filthy girl argued.
"Take the coins," Weller offered, "but leave the man alone."
Before he could change his mind, the kids took the small coin purse and other trinkets and ran through the streets, poorly covered feet squishing through the mud. Weller helped the man up, took him home and shared his supper. The man, Thomas Clarke, turned out to be a member of the Royal Navy, a younger son of someone not entirely unimportant, and he and Kurt became friends. Thomas quickly took an interest in Sarah. Since he was a good man, and he and Sarah seemed thoroughly smitten, when he'd asked for Sarah's hand in marriage, Kurt was pleased. Sarah would have to move with Thomas to the West Indies, but she'd be able to live a better life than the one she'd known thus far.
In the months after Sarah's wedding, Kurt decided to take a position as part of the crew on one of the merchant ships in the hope of making his fortune and finding some adventure. Sarah had found her own life, and it was time for him to find his.
He sought out Pellington, Captain of The Brianna, and a privateer of sorts, known for safely transporting highly valued items through treacherous waters. Kurt offered his services, knowing of the inherent danger. Sailing with Pellington seemed like the best way to find adventure and fortune quickly, and perhaps earn enough for his own ship one day.
Pellington knew Weller and his reputation for hard work, and had often tried to recruit him, so with little hesitation, he brought Kurt on as a member of the crew. Pellington offered one final warning, wanting the young man to know that there was definite danger in their routes. Kurt was willing to accept the risks, full of excitement for the future. He also knew that The Brianna often went to the West Indies, and Kurt thought that would be the easiest way to check in on his sister from time to time.
Once he'd made up his mind, he didn't look back, hopping aboard the ship and setting sail through some of the most dangerous waters known to man. Although The Brianna sounded sweet by name, it was well known as a dangerous ship to attack, and its reputation saved them from many conflicts. While the sleeping quarters weren't the nicest, and sometimes food was scarce, Kurt loved life on the sea, and the wide expanses of blue on all sides. On deck, the air was different, cleaner and sweeter than the filthy streets of New York.
Many of the crew were fond of him, and he was often considered to be Pellington's favorite, although the Captain wasn't prone to showing fondness for anyone or anything. But the Captain taught Kurt about cartography and navigation, and a great deal about how to run a ship.
Kurt felt like he'd found his destiny, and lived his dream for the next few years. He had no desire to settle back in New York, or really anywhere, unwilling to give up the freedom and excitement of his life. That is, until they were attacked.
Two pirate ships converged on them in the night, their crew quickly overtaken and goods raided. Pellington and many of his crew were hanged from masts. Only a few of the youngest and strongest were kept alive.
And so he found himself a prisoner, stuck in the dark belly of a pirate ship. Kurt hated these pirates, loathed the way they'd stolen his freedom and killed his Captain. He vowed to himself that he would survive his captivity. He was many things, but he had never been a coward or one to surrender without a fight.
For two days he and the other prisoners swayed through rough waters in almost complete darkness. Twice each day, a cabin boy came below deck, giving each captive one piece of hardtack before he swept a ladle of ale over their outstretched hands. The ale was barely adequate to soften the hardtack enough to eat. Kurt tried not to breathe in the horrible smells of that dank place, missing the crisp air to be found on deck, closing his eyes as his muscles began to ache with the need to stretch. He was desperate to run or work, or do anything besides sit, helplessly chained.
When the boat finally anchored and the hatch opened, Kurt wondered if they were all being marched to their deaths, although it seemed foolish to transport these men only to kill them. They were all brought on deck, guarded by pirates with swords and whips who looked too eager to use them to inflict pain. The prisoners were all put to work. Those days of labor were hard and long, with no pay and little to eat, and their captors were ruthless, often hurting the captives simply for sport.
He could quickly tell that the life of a prisoner was a short one, as many were killed outright or thrown overboard for the smallest signs of weakness. The Captain was typically nowhere to be found. One morning, the first mate was savagely beating one of the captives, cutting off his hand as the other prisoners helplessly watched. And then they all froze when a door opened and closed, everyone growing silent as they stared at the infamous Captain Briggs. She was rather diminutive, with tanned skin and pale hair, and cold eyes that glowered unrelentingly.
They'd all heard of her, of her viciousness and greed, and Kurt did his best to keep his eyes cast down. She approached the first mate, looking down at the prisoner with the recently lopped off hand, and she asked, "Why are you crippling my workers?" The once terrifying first mate seemed less intimidating when faced with Captain Briggs. She reached out, smiling, touching the first mate's shoulder like a mentor would, and she said, "These prisoners belong to me. You destroyed my property."
"I'm sorry, Cap'n," the first mate nervously muttered.
"I know you are," she replied, very calmly taking out her sword and running through her own first mate before the other pirates threw him over the side.
The man whose hand had been taken looked up and thanked her, and she smiled down on him and said, "You're useless to me," and she killed him as well.
That night, the few remaining prisoners didn't make a sound below deck, all feeling like a noose was already around their necks and they were just waiting for it to tighten.
The next day, the prisoners heard the crew mention a meeting between pirates, and two other ships under Briggs' orders came to meet. The prisoners were divided up and moved to the other ships.
Kurt, although relieved to leave Briggs behind, didn't know if the circumstances on this second ship would be any better. This ship was smaller and faster, like a modified scout ship or frigate, designed for exploration and speed more than intimidation or battle. Kurt hoped to hell the conditions would be better there.
He'd heard of Captain Briggs, everyone had, but he was surprised to find the captain of their new ship was female as well. Typically it was considered back luck to have women aboard a vessel. The new captain was dressed from head to toe in black, except for her shirt which was a deep crimson, a color that a true lady would never wear. Of course she didn't seem like any lady he'd ever met.
The prisoners were all chained on the deck of the boat. As the new captain inspected her acquisitions after the meeting with Briggs, Kurt heard two men near him whisper when they saw the edge of a tattoo of a graceful running deer on her wrist that extended onto her hand, and seemed to realize who she was. He heard a hushed whisper travel along the line like a string of waves, "Jane Doe."
Kurt had always believed that Captain Briggs was real, but the tales he'd heard of Jane Doe, well he'd always thought those were myths and stories. She was known for her ability to appear and disappear with ease, blending in like deer hiding in the woods, seldom seen. She was known for robbing ports without ever being noticed until it was too late. She also had a reputation for being capable of dispatching of her enemies without being caught, her victims often alive and well in one moment, stone cold dead in the next, without an attacker ever being seen.
She stood in front of them, all of the captives still on their knees, and commanded, "Follow orders, work hard, you'll get what you deserve. If you don't…you'll get what you deserve as well."
That was all she said, the threat hanging in the air. With a reputation like hers, nothing else seemed necessary to say.
This smaller ship took them to different shores in Kurt's first days upon it. All aboard were sent to dig in the sand. Jane Doe was typically seen in the backgrounds of their digs, seldom interacting with anyone else. Often she'd disappear on the island for long periods of time before she'd emerge again.
While she inspired a great deal of fear, Weller noticed that she'd order some of her crew to cut down coconuts or bananas, or net some fish to reward the best workers. The work was backbreaking, but at least hard work was noted, and prisoners who worked hard weren't abused for sport. He didn't doubt that she was cruel, every bit the tyrant that Captain Briggs was, but at least she knew how to properly motivate.
After working on Captain Doe's ship for nearly a month, he saw her one day while digging deep in the sand and gravel. She'd been gone most of the day, and once she returned, she stood in the distance, and he felt certain she was watching him.
That night, moments after being returned below deck once again, he tried to sleep. His hands were raw from work and his entire body ached, but he wasn't about to complain. Complainers disappeared.
One pirate, Perry, a man with a particularly unpleasant reputation, came below deck and kicked Weller's leg. "Your presence is requested."
He heard the whispers behind him as he was led to some new unknown hell. His body was already exhausted, and he desperately needed rest and the night's rations. He was taken to the captain's quarters, hands and legs in irons, and shoved through the door, falling onto the wide plank floors.
"Captain Doe," he said, feeling Perry kick him to the ground again.
Perry growled. "She's not my captain. We all sail under Captain Briggs."
"That may be true," Jane Doe said, striding confidently up to Perry, "but this is my ship, and if you want to remain on it, you answer to me. Unshackle him and leave."
Perry accidentally kicked Kurt one more time for good measure, but opened the heavy irons and said, snidely, "Yes, Captain."
The moment he was gone, Doe lowered a heavy wooden bar across the door so they wouldn't be disturbed.
She had several lanterns lit around the cabin, and it was the best look he'd ever really had of her. She wasn't wearing the long heavy coat that usually covered her figure, but only the loose crimson shirt, breeches and boots, much like any sailor. She filled the clothes in a much nicer way, he thought, chastising himself for even the momentary consideration of anything of the sort in regards to someone he despised so much.
He rubbed his sore wrists and waited to find out exactly what was expected of him. She walked past him, seemingly unconcerned that he might attempt to overpower her, and then, as if reading his mind, said, "If you even try to attack me, you'll regret it terribly. Put any such thoughts to rest."
Something about the way she said it made him certain that was true. He simply nodded, and watched while she walked behind the table, her back to the wall, still facing him as she took out her map, compass, and other charting tools.
"Rid yourself of those rags and clean up," she ordered, pointing at a wooden tub full of water. "You're filthy."
He considered, momentarily, arguing that he hadn't been given any clean clothes or a chance to wash since he'd been enslaved, but thought better of it. He looked at the tub again, then at her while she worked, and he asked, "Right here?"
Without looking up, still studying her map, she blandly said, "You have nothing I wish to see."
Her words were dismissive, but more perfunctory than cruel. Still, he covered himself as best he could, tossing his ruined shirt to the side only after most of him was beneath the cover of water. For a few minutes, he glanced at her, waiting for something terrible to happen, but she just kept working like he wasn't even there.
The water felt unbelievably good. It was kind of warm, soothing on his muscles even though he was crammed in there, and he was finally able to remove the thick and seemingly endless layers of grime pasted to his skin with sweat.
As casually as he could while washing, he gazed at her, noting her unflinching concentration, and the more he looked, the more beautiful he realized she was. She seemed somehow different than Briggs and even the other pirates. The flames from the lanterns near her danced as her green eyes skimmed over the page.
When he was done washing and the water began to feel too cool, he reached for his dirty clothes, and she said, "Burn those rags."
He cleared his throat. "Captain?"
"What?" she tersely replied, still focused on her parchment.
"I don't have anything else to wear." The clothes that had been on his back were literally his only possessions, and he hoped beyond hope that she wasn't going to send him off without anything to dress in.
She sighed at the inconvenience, standing, going toward the door, lifting the wooden bar, and shouting something to Perry. He returned in a few minutes, and Doe tossed clean garments on the floor near Kurt without so much as glancing his way before returning to her work yet again.
He brushed away much of the water before he hastily pulled on the offered underclothes so he was covered. He reached for the rest of his clothing, and she ordered, "Leave the breeches off."
Wondering what her plan was, he reminded himself again that he hated his captors, but of them, she didn't seem all that terrible. Or maybe she was some exotic type of siren, tricking him with beauty instead of song.
But she remained inscrutable, so he finally asked, "Is there work for me here, ma'am?"
She shook her head and looked up, like he was interrupting more important matters, and she put down her quill. "Oh," she rubbed her eyes tiredly before she looked over to the side of the room and pointed toward another table. "Eat."
"Eat?"
"You aren't hungry?" she asked with disbelief.
"Of course I am."
"Then eat," she waved at the table, and he didn't have to be told again.
He sat and lifted a lid from a heavy pot. Inside there was some kind of stew with rehydrated meat. Some tropical fruit was in a bowl nearby. Eating directly from the pot, he began to scarf down the stew before she changed her mind.
"Don't eat too quickly," she commented. "You'll make yourself ill."
He bobbed his head and tried to slow, finding it hard. It was the best thing he'd had in a very long time, although he knew it probably wouldn't be considered very tasty under normal circumstances. After he'd begun to fill himself, he asked, "Shall I serve you your meal?"
"No," she answered.
He wanted to ask what this visit was about, but decided against it. Sitting in her cabin was better than in the hold, and she only looked irritated when he interrupted her.
Quite a considerable amount of time had passed when she stood, stretched and walked over to him. When she motioned, he got to his feet, and waited to see what she required. "Off you go," she emotionlessly said.
She put her hand on his back, not roughly but firmly, and guided him to the door. Opening it, she seemed to make sure some of the crew saw them together. She swooped up the breeches from the floor and pushed them to his chest. "Don't forget these," she said, suddenly looking rather amorous.
He was baffled by her sudden flirtation. She'd barely looked at him, and now her hand was pressing against the center of his chest before she brought her lips near his and said, "You were not a disappointment."
"Thank you?" he answered.
Looking at Perry, she said, "This is mine. Make sure everyone knows."
"Yes, Captain," he growled.
Before she retreated into her cabin, she said to Perry, "I'll consider you personally responsible if he's ruined."
Weller was taken below deck with the others and Perry looked at them all after he shoved Kurt into the cage again. "This here is the property of Jane Doe. She doesn't like her property being tampered with. Everyone understand?"
The other captives all nodded their agreement.
"Last thing that belonged to the boss that was messed with…the whole gang disappeared. Don't let the pretty eyes fool ya. She'll squash you like a beetle and with less remorse."
The next day was filled with more digging as if nothing had changed. Yet again, he saw Captain Doe disappear from the pack and trust her crew to keep the prisoners working. He kept replaying his visit to her cabin in his mind. Clearly she wanted her crew to believe she'd taken him as a lover, but why? What work was she so engrossed with?
When she returned to the dig site, she appeared irritated, waving everyone to return to the boat with little interest as to what had been found during the dig.
She called for him every night for the next several days. Some nights she gave him fresh clothes, but every night she offered him whatever food was in her cabin. And every single night, she barely spoke a word to him.
One evening she allowed him to stay in her cabin later than normal, although he wasn't certain if it was because she'd forgotten he was there or if she was offering a kindness. He'd been enjoying the fine rum she'd allowed him to have, and maybe he was feeling more relaxed than was wise.
He walked over to the table where she worked, and watched as she pulled a different map over the map and notes she'd been working on to hide them.
"I'm an excellent navigator," he commented. "And a decent map maker."
She put her tools down and looked up at him, a twitch playing at the corner of her lips. "Too bad you don't have a ship."
"Too bad," he agreed. "But since I am your prisoner, perhaps I could be of more use to you than someone to eat your food, drink your drink, and pretend to share your bed."
Her head tilted and for a moment he waited for her hand to reach for the sword in the belt that hung from the chair behind her and run him through. Instead she appeared a little amused. "Are you challenging me?"
"No, Captain," he answered quickly. "I'm…offering my services since I'm grateful for the kindnesses you've offered me."
She folded her arms across her chest, taking a deep breath. Her fingers tapped against her elbow as she thought. "What makes you think you'd be of any help to me?"
"I'm not sure that I could be," he honestly answered. "Perhaps if I knew what you're looking for?"
She leaned forward on the table, and he realized this was, by far, the most she'd ever spoken to him. "I'm a pirate," she answered. "And like all good pirates, I'm supposed to be looking for gold."
He touched the parchment she used to cover her real work, still uncertain whether or not she might cut off a finger or kill him and toss him overboard. "So you're supposed to hunt for buried treasure chests. But what are you truly looking for?" His finger pushed the covering map away, and his eyes poured over the larger map and a series of codes and symbols she'd marked.
"Some treasures don't come in buried chests," she answered, covering her work again.
"What sorts of treasures?"
"What reason would I have to confide in you?"
"I've been trustworthy so far. I haven't told anyone that I'm just cover for you. I haven't told them what I've seen you working on, or that we've never shared a bed. I've never told them anything. I'm not a fool. I know you're using me to excuse your hours of work in secret."
Before he was even able to flinch, she was up, hopped over the table and somehow took him instantly to the ground. The next thing he knew, she was towering over him, her boot firmly planted against his chest. She scowled, "I don't need to make excuses. This is my ship. I am the Captain, and I do as I please."
"I only meant…perhaps I could assist you. And I can be trusted," he said, somewhat surprised when she sent him back to the hold unharmed.
The next several days, she called for him, but they didn't speak a word, and he didn't press his luck. The food and hours of near freedom were nice, but in truth, he was fascinated by her. Beneath the fearsome captain with a face of stone, there was a beautiful, sorrowful woman.
