SUMMARY: Just yer old 'them in jail' scenario. Ragetti ponders the past, Pintel ponders Ragetti.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own them and I only want them to have a larger fan base. I'm sure with
the pretty pairings with Jack and Will, this one could be over-looked, even though not only did
they cross-dress but, they have the most chemistry. Not to mention people prolly won't like it,
bring on the flames.
My pal Bri-chan did a fan art for this fic. Here be the link, it is really, really good.
http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/3097310/
Do You Remember....?
~~**~~
They were bloody starving them before they hung them. And the British claimed that
pirates were the lowest scum on the earth. Pintel sighed as he rested his head against the cold wall
of the holding cell that he was in. Cold. He could feel again, and the cold and hunger weren't two
sensations that he was looking forward to feeling again.
Looking over at his cell-mate and friend, he couldn't help but feel that starvation would be
his killer and not the hangman's noose. Ragetti was too thin to begin with, now days without
enough food was starting to waste his bones away.
While Pintel was content to sit on the straw laced floor and contemplate the lack of food
and the pains in his belly, Ragetti would sit on the small bench with his long legs pulled up tight to
his body and watch the sea from the tiny window. He never asked his friend what he saw out
there besides water, they all had their own way with dealing the captivity that been forced upon
them. But Ragetti's silence was unnatural, the usual daft babbling cut off as soon as the cell bars
locked shut.
One by one, Pintel had watched his fellow crew members, so sick with disease and hunger,
taken away for the gallows. Each time that a British soldier would come stomping down the stone
stairs, every pirate in the cellblock froze. These men had no set schedule, there was no order.
They'd come down and stare at each and everyone, probably remembering which pirate they had
fought on board the Dauntless. Then they would pick one out and led him up the stares to death.
He had to have been there fifteen or sixteen days. Day one was reserved for Jack
Sparrow's hanging. The only hanging so far that did not occur. Now the former crew of the Black
Pearl was reduced by 15 men.
So far Pintel had been lucky, or not, depending on how you looked at it. An easy death,
the gallows would be. Better than this lingering death.
"Wot you finkin' Rags?" Pintel spoke to break his friend's silence, if not to dispel his
thoughts on food.
"Nuffin'." was the despondent response.
"You gots to be finkin' somefing, starin' outta that window like thats." he pursued.
Ragetti was quiet for a few seconds but he answered. "Do you remember when we found
yer coin, Pinters?"
The question caught Pintel off gaurd. "Wot you say?"
Ragetti finally turned from the window and gave him a slightly off centered stare. "When
we finally found that coin of yers? The cursed one?"
"I know wot one you mean, blithering fool." he snapped, his short temper breaking.
Ragetti recoiled back into the wall, but the stare never wavered. Pintel realized that
Ragetti was used to the short, vicious temper, though he was still started when yelled at suddenly.
Ragetti nodded slightly and continued, talking more than he had in three days. "Remember
how it was wif that one guy wif the birdy?"
"Yeah, I remember. It was wif a parrot, fool, not a 'birdy'."
"'E like me eye, that birdy did."
"Parrot, dolt. Parrot."
"Yeah, yeah. Then 'e messed on yer nice jacket, didn't 'e? Didn't 'e Pinters?" Ragetti was
now smiling again. That raised a bit of hope inside Pintel's chest. Normally Ragetti was the one
member of Barbossa's crew that was always grinning like a bloody sod, without a care in the
world. But when they traded the curse's captivity for the British, the smile disappeared. And that
put more despair on Pintel than the bars did.
"I always did like that jacket, I did." Pintel murmured.
"So did that birdy."
"Parrot, you bloody idiot. It ain't no birdy. It is a bloody parrot!"
"S'rry Pinters, parrot, parrot." Ragetti repeated the words several times as if committing it
to memory. "You remember when we found my coin?" he held up a wasted thin hand to show a
scar stretching across the palm, reminder of the blood debt.
"Yeah, I do. That pretty lady had stuff down 'er knickers and yer were too childish to
reach in a takes it."
"It were 'er knickers, Pinters, 'er knickers. I can't be sticking my 'and down there wif out
gettin' slapped or worse!"
"She was a whore, Rags, a whore, you give 'er three more gold pieces and take back yer
coin and she's be chipper as a robin."
"Still, I don't want to be doin' 'er a dishonor."
"Yer a pirate Rags."
"Not fer much longer." Ragetti's smiled dropped and he turned back to the window.
Pintel felt the desperation and hunger fall back upon him. After their playful banter had
ended, the reality came back. Any day they could be picked for their noose. But looking at his
closest friend, the thought again that he wouldn't make it to the noose. He caught himself staring
at the ribs so clearly visible through the opening in the maroon shirt.
"'Ow's yer stomach feelin', Rags?"
"Empty."
"Mine too. You don't look so good there, Rags."
Ragetti rubbed at his wooden eye and winced at the pain that wood caused, pain that
before couldn't be felt, now felt again. "My body kinda 'urts."
Pintel picked himself up and crawled over to the small bench and sat next to his crouched
friend. "Where does it 'urt, Rags?"
"Everywhere, Pinters, it always 'urts, it never did before." Ragetti still kept his hand up to
his eye, rubbing, tears forming in the other.
Pintel reached out and pulled the younger man against him in a bear hug. He tucked the
dirty blond head under his chin and just kept him in a tight grip. "Get comfortable, you ol' fool.
Maybe then you won't 'urt so much."
Bony hands rested on thicker ones. The thin, frail body relaxed against Pintel. "Yer a good
friend, Pinters."
Pintel didn't answer to that, content with their position. "Wot do you see out that
window, Rags, wot do you see beside water?"
"I just keep hopin' that the Pearl would come back fer us."
"Jack Sparrow had 'er now, not Barbossa. Last I heard, 'e was dead."
"I know."
"Then why get yer hopes up, fool?"
"Better than focus on my stomach."
Pintel smiled into the blond hair. He had a point, that he did. But he wouldn't tell him that,
that would be a bit damaging for his pride.
"Are we gonna get outta here, Pinters?" he shifted more into the embrace.
Sighing, Pintel tighten he arms around the impossibly thin boy in his grip and permitted
himself one small kiss on the top of Ragetti's head. "No, Rags, I don't think we will."
He kept his grip tight as he felt the younger boy grow still.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own them and I only want them to have a larger fan base. I'm sure with
the pretty pairings with Jack and Will, this one could be over-looked, even though not only did
they cross-dress but, they have the most chemistry. Not to mention people prolly won't like it,
bring on the flames.
My pal Bri-chan did a fan art for this fic. Here be the link, it is really, really good.
http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/3097310/
Do You Remember....?
~~**~~
They were bloody starving them before they hung them. And the British claimed that
pirates were the lowest scum on the earth. Pintel sighed as he rested his head against the cold wall
of the holding cell that he was in. Cold. He could feel again, and the cold and hunger weren't two
sensations that he was looking forward to feeling again.
Looking over at his cell-mate and friend, he couldn't help but feel that starvation would be
his killer and not the hangman's noose. Ragetti was too thin to begin with, now days without
enough food was starting to waste his bones away.
While Pintel was content to sit on the straw laced floor and contemplate the lack of food
and the pains in his belly, Ragetti would sit on the small bench with his long legs pulled up tight to
his body and watch the sea from the tiny window. He never asked his friend what he saw out
there besides water, they all had their own way with dealing the captivity that been forced upon
them. But Ragetti's silence was unnatural, the usual daft babbling cut off as soon as the cell bars
locked shut.
One by one, Pintel had watched his fellow crew members, so sick with disease and hunger,
taken away for the gallows. Each time that a British soldier would come stomping down the stone
stairs, every pirate in the cellblock froze. These men had no set schedule, there was no order.
They'd come down and stare at each and everyone, probably remembering which pirate they had
fought on board the Dauntless. Then they would pick one out and led him up the stares to death.
He had to have been there fifteen or sixteen days. Day one was reserved for Jack
Sparrow's hanging. The only hanging so far that did not occur. Now the former crew of the Black
Pearl was reduced by 15 men.
So far Pintel had been lucky, or not, depending on how you looked at it. An easy death,
the gallows would be. Better than this lingering death.
"Wot you finkin' Rags?" Pintel spoke to break his friend's silence, if not to dispel his
thoughts on food.
"Nuffin'." was the despondent response.
"You gots to be finkin' somefing, starin' outta that window like thats." he pursued.
Ragetti was quiet for a few seconds but he answered. "Do you remember when we found
yer coin, Pinters?"
The question caught Pintel off gaurd. "Wot you say?"
Ragetti finally turned from the window and gave him a slightly off centered stare. "When
we finally found that coin of yers? The cursed one?"
"I know wot one you mean, blithering fool." he snapped, his short temper breaking.
Ragetti recoiled back into the wall, but the stare never wavered. Pintel realized that
Ragetti was used to the short, vicious temper, though he was still started when yelled at suddenly.
Ragetti nodded slightly and continued, talking more than he had in three days. "Remember
how it was wif that one guy wif the birdy?"
"Yeah, I remember. It was wif a parrot, fool, not a 'birdy'."
"'E like me eye, that birdy did."
"Parrot, dolt. Parrot."
"Yeah, yeah. Then 'e messed on yer nice jacket, didn't 'e? Didn't 'e Pinters?" Ragetti was
now smiling again. That raised a bit of hope inside Pintel's chest. Normally Ragetti was the one
member of Barbossa's crew that was always grinning like a bloody sod, without a care in the
world. But when they traded the curse's captivity for the British, the smile disappeared. And that
put more despair on Pintel than the bars did.
"I always did like that jacket, I did." Pintel murmured.
"So did that birdy."
"Parrot, you bloody idiot. It ain't no birdy. It is a bloody parrot!"
"S'rry Pinters, parrot, parrot." Ragetti repeated the words several times as if committing it
to memory. "You remember when we found my coin?" he held up a wasted thin hand to show a
scar stretching across the palm, reminder of the blood debt.
"Yeah, I do. That pretty lady had stuff down 'er knickers and yer were too childish to
reach in a takes it."
"It were 'er knickers, Pinters, 'er knickers. I can't be sticking my 'and down there wif out
gettin' slapped or worse!"
"She was a whore, Rags, a whore, you give 'er three more gold pieces and take back yer
coin and she's be chipper as a robin."
"Still, I don't want to be doin' 'er a dishonor."
"Yer a pirate Rags."
"Not fer much longer." Ragetti's smiled dropped and he turned back to the window.
Pintel felt the desperation and hunger fall back upon him. After their playful banter had
ended, the reality came back. Any day they could be picked for their noose. But looking at his
closest friend, the thought again that he wouldn't make it to the noose. He caught himself staring
at the ribs so clearly visible through the opening in the maroon shirt.
"'Ow's yer stomach feelin', Rags?"
"Empty."
"Mine too. You don't look so good there, Rags."
Ragetti rubbed at his wooden eye and winced at the pain that wood caused, pain that
before couldn't be felt, now felt again. "My body kinda 'urts."
Pintel picked himself up and crawled over to the small bench and sat next to his crouched
friend. "Where does it 'urt, Rags?"
"Everywhere, Pinters, it always 'urts, it never did before." Ragetti still kept his hand up to
his eye, rubbing, tears forming in the other.
Pintel reached out and pulled the younger man against him in a bear hug. He tucked the
dirty blond head under his chin and just kept him in a tight grip. "Get comfortable, you ol' fool.
Maybe then you won't 'urt so much."
Bony hands rested on thicker ones. The thin, frail body relaxed against Pintel. "Yer a good
friend, Pinters."
Pintel didn't answer to that, content with their position. "Wot do you see out that
window, Rags, wot do you see beside water?"
"I just keep hopin' that the Pearl would come back fer us."
"Jack Sparrow had 'er now, not Barbossa. Last I heard, 'e was dead."
"I know."
"Then why get yer hopes up, fool?"
"Better than focus on my stomach."
Pintel smiled into the blond hair. He had a point, that he did. But he wouldn't tell him that,
that would be a bit damaging for his pride.
"Are we gonna get outta here, Pinters?" he shifted more into the embrace.
Sighing, Pintel tighten he arms around the impossibly thin boy in his grip and permitted
himself one small kiss on the top of Ragetti's head. "No, Rags, I don't think we will."
He kept his grip tight as he felt the younger boy grow still.