Jacob's Ladder
By Ahro
Warning: Sexual situations, violence and language.

Chapter 1

It wasn't uncommon for me to wake up feeling like I had taken a sledgehammer to the side of my head. Neither was plying my sweaty face off of the cold metal deck of my ship. Many nights were spent out at sea, and I couldn't begrudge my men for having a few rounds after a long shift. Of course I would drink them all under the table after a few rounds of poker, but I rarely woke to finding myself still at my station on the bridge. Back in my cabin, or maybe even a few times in the crews quarters if the booze was on the strong side, but never at my post, on duty, and in the thick of a sudden hurricane.

It had been a freak of nature. The storm was massive. Read outs spewed from the consoles as men shouted back and forth at one another. I had heard winds up to 165mph, and swells topping 80 feet in the air. A category 5 hurricane had brewed off the straits of Florida, and it was in the middle of March. Well out of hurricane season, and completely unnatural.

I knew that right before I had lost consciousness, the entire ship had gone black. Nothing but the flashes of lightning, crash of thunder, and the panicked cries of my crew filled the air around me. I know the last thing I had seen was a lightning strike light up the bow, and electricity spiking back and forth across two steel cables of rigging that connected to the mast and communication tower above the bridge. It was a sight to see. The light, dancing a surprisingly slow dance as it moved between the two cables. Upon it's disappearance was when it all went dark.

Now, however, the last thing I had expected to wake up to was the warmth of the bright sun on my face as it streamed in through the windows surrounding the bridge. While the sound of gulls calling out in the wind carried to my ears. I craned my neck slowly up to see large puffy clouds being gently pushed across a crystal blue sky, dotting out the sun at different intervals. In one of these instances, my eyes had begun to focus some until I realized it wouldn't grow much clearer without the use of my glasses.

Finally picking myself up, head spinning as I found my feet under me, I was able to locate my glasses not far from where I had fallen. Once they were replaced I then was able to take in the horror that surrounded me.

My men... were all unconscious.

I scrambled to each of them, shaking each in turn, checking for a pulse, listening for a heart beat, the inhale and exhale of breathing. They were all fine, except none would wake. It was then to the comm station where I tried to radio for help but I couldn't even make it that far as nothing was on. Not a single light, meter, or dial reacted to anything I tried. My ship was dead in the water, and my crew was unconscious around me.

Taking my cap off, and running my hands through my blond hair, I leaned on the consoles before me and stared out into the endless sea. It made no sense. None of it did. The calmness, yet turmoil that I felt was the same that time when I was a young man, caught out at sea with my father. We had been slow in returning to port, and we were overtaken by a smaller hurricane. The experience was horrific on a small fishing vessel. Waves easily crashing over the sides of the ship. Wind pushing us every which way. It wasn't until it suddenly quieted that we knew we had found the eye of the storm. Serenity surrounded by chaos.

That was the only explanation I could come up with to try and explain away my current predicament. Hurricanes had a foreseeable path. They took time to build up momentum to turn into the devastating power that they held. A category 5 of that strength did not just appear out of nowhere. However, now that I had lived through the ordeal, and if this was the eye of that storm, the walls of the eye should have been visible on the horizon. I went for a pair of binoculars, thinking perhaps the circumference of this eye was just so massive that I couldn't see it without aide. Apparently I wasn't going to be that lucky in explaining away the strangeness as there wasn't a darkened cloud in sight.

Removing the binoculars, I then noticed a satellite phone on the wall I never had the need to use before, and quickly ran to pick up the receiver. To my surprise there was static coming through and I clutched at it in fear if I let go that sound would be gone. I punched in the number to any other US Coast Guard vessels that had been reported in the area, but there was no response save for the continued static that the ear piece emitted.

I cursed under my breath as I hung the phone back on the wall. The sound of static had been some sort of reassurance that the battery still worked. Now it was a matter of getting to the generators to see what had happened. I wasn't a doctor, so all I could hope for was that the remainder of my crew was better off than the few on the bridge.

I finally turned to leave the bridge only to be immediately stopped dead in my tracks.

Just off the starboard side, a direction I had declined in observing previously, was a pair of tall, wooden masts, with great, white canvas sails puffed outwards by the wind ever so slightly coming towards me. Above the crows nest, a familiar sight I recognized easily from movies and fiction was the skull and crossbones of the Jolly Roger.

"A pirate ship?" I questioned no one but myself, as if saying the absurdity out loud would make it sound less bizarre. "Is this some movie set?" Tall ships- such as the one that was now brave enough to be coming within 1,000 feet of my own Legend Class Cutter, were unheard of being out this far in the ocean. Tall ships just did not sail this far. They were historical, preserved for generations, and only left where they berthed to be turned for maintenance. This one, however, appeared almost new compared to the ones I had seen. The famous Constitution docked in my home of Boston came to mind immediately. It always had a new coat of paint along it's sides but it still held that weathered and ancient feel.

I quickly reached for the binoculars once again to peer out at this magnificent piece of 18th century construction. I quickly ghosted along the deck, catching my breath in excitement seeing men running to and fro, dressed in the traditional garb that the pirates wore in my favorite old movies. Perhaps the storm had drifted us farther south to where a film was being shot. Standing up straight, I looked down to the men still sleeping at my feet. That was unexplainable though. I then quickly realized the predicament my crew was still facing, and ran out the door to head down to the deck. I could attempt to contact these men and they could radio for help. Surely a storm so large had been noticed and forcasted by the NHC.

Reaching the deck, I had come across more men who were in the same predicament as the men I left on the bridge. No one seemed outwardly injured or in any sort of distress. They all were just sleeping, yet could not be aroused. I couldn't make any sense of it so chose to contact the "pirates" anyways.

Moving to the starboard side, I then lifted the binoculars back to look over the old/new ship to see if I could grab someone's attention. One man aboard a 378 foot vessel could be easily missed. "Hey! HELLO!" I should have grabbed a megaphone before coming down here. I look like an idiot.

The ship began to come closer as it turned to bring it's port side up along side my ship. It was still well enough a ways, and I couldn't help but be impressed by this team's maneuvering ability. The craftsmanship was astounding too. I had to admit, my curiosity was peeked as to what movie this was all for. The company had to have a huge budget to actually make a tall ship rather than use CGI. Maybe Disney was making a new Pirates movie?

Oh! Maybe I'll have a chance to be an extra!

"Hello! Can you hear me? I am Captain Alfred F. Jones of the United States Coast Guard Cutter Adams! I'm afraid that storm has- HOLY SHIT!" I held onto the railing for dear life as I watched a single cannon along the tall ship's side fire with a massive puff of smoke, followed by a resounding thrum, and a large splash. After the vibrations running through the railing ended, I bent over the rail to see the cannonball had made a massive dent in the hull, and had rolled backwards into the water.

"HEY! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING! This is a United States Armed National Security Cutter! Do you have any idea the amount of damage you just caused?" I couldn't believe that that ship had actually fired, and fired a cannonball of all things, at my ship! Looking back through my binoculars, I noticed the men arranged around another cannon were readying for another shot.

"Are you all fucking insane! I have missiles and torpedoes on this ship! One shot and your ship is destroyed!" What is wrong with these people? I can't believe they actually fired at me, and with a fucking cannonball... honestly, that is kinda cool.

"Hold Fire!"

A voice rang out across the water as I quickly returned the binoculars to my eyes. Scowering over the deck, the man who had to be the captain came into view. He wore a white shirt, tucked into black trousers that billowed out around knee high black buckled boots. At his neck was a flowing white cravat. While an elegantly long red coat flew out around him in the wind, golden accents decorated it at the lapels and cuffs. It dazzled in the sun with it's assorted gold bangles and buttons that ran along the front. Gold fringed epaulettes adorned his shoulders, and the classic black pirates hat with flowing white, red, and gold feathers spilled from the back over his shoulder. Clinging to his hip by a brown leather belt that ran across his chest and around his waist was a finely crafted sword in it's sheath. A beautifully decorated pommel and guard caught the sun brilliantly while in his gloved hand he clutched a classic 18th century flintlock.

I can't WAIT to see this movie!

I held my breath as I watched the man walk across the deck, all eyes staring at him to see what his next move would be. He then climbed up to the stern as it was currently the closest point nearest my vessel. For a moment, I had a fleeting instinct to reach for the pistol at my side. The "pirate captain" was carrying a weapon after all, and had fired already. Who said the flintlock, clutched in his black gloved hand wasn't loaded with a musket ball as well. The weapon was well beyond range though if the man did try to fire. If it was for any reason a real pirate ship (some country feeling nostalgic perhaps?) and they felt like attacking a United States armed vessel, why do so with outdated weaponry?

Unless this was a distraction from the real threat. Could we be under some sort of chemical terrorist attack? My men are all unconscious, but why would I be the only one awake?

"You are trespassing on English waters! Explain exactly what you and this-" the pirate captain paused as he waved his hand out to gesture at the cutter. "-ship, are doing here? Where do you hail from?"

I couldn't help but laugh. Was this a joke?

"Quite the performance there, captain! Are you suppose to be aboard the Black Pearl? You need black sails if you want to dress her up like that one."

The pirate captain seemed to grow irritated by my words, if a little confused. He didn't seem to want to bother any further with me as he then turned to his crew. "All hands prepare for boarding!"

"WHAT?" Now I was ready for action. I had not anticipated anyone to try and board my cutter.

I reached frantically for my .45 at my hip, checked that it was loaded, and aimed it at the supposed captain's head. Pulling back the hammer with a reassured click, I placed the joking aside now and took on my usual authoritative tone.

"I will please ask you to recall that order! Your ship should not even be within 2,000 yards of this vessel! If you are the Captain of this here-" I had to fumble over the word, as bizarre as it was saying it in a serious context, "pirate... ship, then I ask to speak with you and you alone aboard my vessel. You must account for the damage you have caused by your previous unprovoked display before other measures can be addressed."

This seemed to catch the captain's interest as he turned and looked back up at me. I could see the sun shine off of a toothy grin, his hand reaching up to his hat, "I do apologize, Captain." With a flourish, he removed his hat and bowed low, his golden hair catching the light of the sun as he did. "What I have done is under direct orders from his majesty King George III." He stood back up. "If you have any strife against the British Empire, I suggest you put away your weapon and come quietly."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. King George III? British Empire? This had to be a joke, or was the camera crew somewhere rolling this for some good bonus footage for the DVD release?

Well if it's a show they want, they can have it. I lifted my .45 in the air and pulled the trigger.

I lifted my .45 and pulled the-

What the fuck?

"Is there something wrong, Captain?"

Yes, something is wrong, my damn gun won't fire! I quickly spun out the barrel to check to see if something was lodged somewhere. The barrel was clean. There wasn't a thing wrong with the gun! So why wouldn't the piece of shit fire?

I quickly looked back down at the Captain as he continued to stare up at me. Did he know something about the weapons on the ship? Did they use some other sort of chemical agent that had messed with the weaponry? Perhaps hacked all the computer terminals as well? What kind of terrorist group was this?

Fear must have been laced through my expression as the pirate captain turned and with another elegant flourish of his hat, re-issued his crew to carry on.

I must have been standing there completely oblivious, just watching the man as he disappeared into his cabin. Even the thud of grappling hooks clinking around the metal rails couldn't move me. It wasn't until a hand was around my mouth and a dagger at my neck that I woke up at all.

"I suggest ye come quietly. The cap'n doesn't appreciate his catch bein' too frisky now."

I was powerless. Men swarmed around me, armed to the teeth with daggers and curved sabers. I had nothing but my own fists, and I could already tell these thugs wouldn't give me a fair fight. It would be smarter if I remained at the top of my game than be injured on account of pride.

With a slight nod, as the edge of the dagger was already practically cutting into my skin, I felt my hands quickly strung up behind my back and tied with course rope. I was then quickly released by the one pirate and a sword tip replaced him.

"Move along then, pretty boy." The threat was followed by laughter and all I could do was hold my head high, and approach the boarding planks that had been erected in record time.

They never trained us for anything like this. How on Earth am I going to get out of this mess? Fuck, I can only hope this will all be a joke, and the director will be in that cabin laughing his head off at the whole thing. God knows I'm not paying for that massive dent in my ship.

Rather than be brought to the captain's cabin, as I had assumed I was being taken to, I was unceremoniously dragged down to the hold. My arms were bound to a piling in the middle of a single cell, and I was left there. Just. Left there. To stare around at the weathered wood of the hull, dripping wet boards above my head, slimy boards below, rusted bars, and the occasional rat that scurried around for morsels of scrap.

"This is not the way you treat a United States Coast Guard officer! You will be facing multiple charges for this!" I yelled to anyone who could possibly hear me.

Heavy footfalls ran back and forth across the deck above as I strained to see through the cracks in the boards. Words were then whispered directly above my head, only irritating me further that they would purposefully stand so close to mock my position. I have a crew of eighty strong men, all probably unconscious, and needing medical attention that I was unable to provide. If this really is a movie set, which I'm beginning to believe is not, they're conducting a pretty fucked up joke.

I sudden salty breeze cut through the hold towards me as a door was opened. Heavy foot falls complete with buckles and chains clinking together came to my ears as I strained around a wall of crates to see who had arrived.

It felt like it really was something out of a movie. There was the first glimpse of a polished boot, followed by a sweep of a heavy red velvet coat, and a bowed head rose up after having needed to duck slightly between the ship's overhangs. The captain of the pirate ship was-"

"Arthur?"

"Tsk, that is Captain Arthur Kirkland of the great ship Spades, to you."

No way. No, fucking way! Arthur... HIS ARTHUR! The man he was married to back in Massachusetts, the man who had placed the ring on his left hand six years ago, was not standing in front of him, dressed in full pirate gear, threatening him with the name of Captain of some pirate ship! This had to just be a dream. Was I drinking last night? What was my hand? I swear I had placed a full-house...

"Excuse me." The man's voice was sharp and angry. Seeing him and hearing him closer than the expanse between their two ships had me feeling I had traveled back home over night. His voice was the same. His posture was the same. Even those thick eyebrows were the exact same as my Arthur's back home.

"Okay, Captain Arthur," I drawled for added emphasis. "You've put on a stunning performance. I never knew you had been practicing acting, but the charade is over now. I have a damaged hull I need to report about, and I don't see it going over well back at the Pentagon."

The cell door had been swung open so quickly I hadn't even had the chance to catch my breath. A dagger was already poised at my throat, while my hair was grabbed and yanked backwards to expose even more of it to it's edge. I swallowed, feeling my Adam's apple brush against the blade as I did. This, Captain Arthur, moved in closer to my neck, his warm breath danced along my skin sending a shiver down my spine. He seemed to have noticed this as I saw a gleam in the man's eye as he pulled back some to look at me. A wicked grin was spread out on his face as his eyes caught mine in their depths.

"You seem to enjoy this sort of attention. How peculiar indeed." I then felt the man move back to my neck only this time a little higher to lick at my earlobe before he took it into his mouth. A hiss escaped my lips as my eyes began to roll. God, I'm reacting like some horny teenager. Granted I haven't seen Arthur in six months but-

"Ow!" I jerked my head away, quickly regretting it though as the blade cut lightly into my skin. A laugh echoed from this Arthur as he pulled back, licking his lips as he did.

This motherfucker just bit me, and HARD, too!

"Who gives you the right too-"

"I give myself the right." He sneered at me. Eyes alight with a fire I had never seen in such a familiar face. "Now then- to business." Arthur then flayed out his long jacket and took a seat on one of the large crates. He was now situated higher than me, and seemed to delight in his advantage. His gloved hand went up to his chin to allow his head a perch, while he rested his elbow on his knee that pushed up against the heavy crate below him. His other arm he swung forward, leaning bent over some in a casual manner.

"The only business I have with you is about the damage you did to me ship!"

"All in good time. First, though, I would love to know how that ship came to be in the first place. A metal ship that floats, and at such a massive scale. You say you berth in the colonies. I know for a fact they do not have the capabilities to create such a thing."

"Colonies? The United States won it's freedom in 1783. That was-" I did the math quickly in my head, "two-hundred and thirty-two years ago. America is well established now, and with a massive army that whomever you report to best watch out after attacking one of our ships."

Whatever I said seemed to peek his interested as he leaned in further, "Two-hundred and thirty-two years you say? I quite remember the signing of the Treaty of Paris. It's still fresh in peoples minds. After all, it was only signed thirty years ago."

"Th-thirty years?"

The captain nodded.

How can this be possible? Are they still just acting?

"That's very funny, Arthur. Okay, you got me. I'm not playing along with this game anymore. Your camera crew can come out now."

"Haha, a game you say? Oh I assure you this is no game, and I quite admire that lovely vessel you arrived in." The pirate captain then slipped off the crate, and moved past me to look out through one of the port holes, trying to take in the girth of my ship. It's white hull, gleamed against the tropical waters casting reflections inside the cell, reminding me that it was still very much there. "Those long pipes pointing outwards from the deck. They appear to be some kind of cannon," he leaned backwards, eyes roaming over my body. I felt my face flush at the obvious approval that he seemed to gather from my appearance. His gaze held a hunger that I had never seen in those familiar green eyes before.

It scared me.

"As for your uniform, I would wager you are a military man as you claim. A fellow captain for certain. Perhaps, I don't need to treat you in such a manner." A wave of his hand and two pirates can rushing into the cell. One grabbed my arms that were wrapped around the pole while another sliced through the rope, quickly releasing my wrists free of the chaffing material. "Release his arms."

A grunt came from the one pirate who held tightly to my arms still, but followed the command reluctantly.

I was thankful for that, and quickly nursed my wrists, standing up straight as I did.

"Now listen here-"

The sword point was at my chest in a second. I hadn't even realized the man had unsheathed it at all. This whole ordeal had really thrown me off guard.

"You are still my prisoner. From what I gathered aboard your ship you seem to be having some problems. Being completely unarmed the most prominent example."

"Oh- I'm far from unarmed, sir." My temper was beginning to flare as I clenched my fists at my sides. This man may have looked like my Arthur, sounded like him and shared a few of the same mannerisms, but he was far from the Arthur I vowed to share my life with.

"Your person is unarmed, but your vessel is not. Don't you worry, my men are already seeing to extracting whatever weapons your ship contains."

"That is highly classified technology! You can not do this! You're British, we're allies!"

This seemed to interest the captain as he turned back around after having turned to exit the cell.

"Allies, you say? I don't know what time you are referring to in which we are allies, but I assure you, Captain, we are at war as we speak!"

I couldn't believe it. I just couldn't. The Special Relationship between the United Kingdom and the United States was still as strong as ever in 2015. The year my USCGC Adams was finished and put under my command. There had been no animosity, only prosperity after the global recession had been repaired. None of this makes any sense. "War? But when- how?"

Arthur came back into the cell, sizing up against me as he did. He stood just a few inches shorter than me, even the same height as my Arthur, but that glare was not his. That glare that held such pain and anger, something I thought I would never see in those green eyes. All of it being aimed at myself. For a fleeting moment, I wanted to reach towards him. Take him by the arms, and wrap myself into his warm embrace. To rid that awful expression from his fine features, never to see it again.

But this wasn't him. This wasn't my Arthur. This was someone else, and as odd as it sounded, someone of a different time altogether.

"It was your people after all." He started, and then I knew. Knew exactly the words he would speak next. "It was your James Madison who declared war on us in 1812."

A/N: Hello! Welcome to my new USxUK fanfic, "Jacob's Ladder" (title will be explained through the story)! This fic will be much shorter than "Quartering Acts" but I just had to do something with NavyCaptain!Alfred (or in this story, CoastGuardCaptain!Alfred) and Pirate!Arthur. I grew obsessed with seeing artwork of Alfred looking stunning in a navy uniform so I just had to write this fic (I have art as well but I have yet to post that on my tumblr.)

As to why I picked Coast Guard rather than the Navy, I couldn't get the images of a beautiful white hull pushing through the water, and that painted hull is iconic to the US Coast Guard. So, I chose Alfred to have a newly made Legend Class National Security Cutter named Adams (google the USCGC Bertholf to see what I'm referencing). It is one gorgeous vessel and Alfred standing along side that in his blue or white service dress was just drool worthy mental imagery. :D

Aside from that, I do hope you guys don't mind that I slipped into 1st person with this fic. I've never written from 1st person before, and as I started writing this it just sort of happened. Totally planned on writing from 3rd, 1st snuck in, dunno how or why but I hope I pulled it off. XD This first chapter is a little shorter than my usual chapters but I felt leaving it off where I did worked out. Yey for time travel! lol

Anyways, enough of this Author's Note, it's beginning to get away from me. See you next time! :D

Follow me on tumblr for status updates for "Jacob's Ladder" and "Quartering Acts" as well as USxUK fanart by me: ahro. tumblr. com

Love ya!