A/N: I'm going to keep this short and simple so I don't start sounding like a broken record this early into the game, but thank you guys, sincerely, for the feedback you've given me so far. I appreciate it immensely, and can assure you that I'm not just saying that for funsies. So yes – I'll keep it at that and leave you guys alone to read. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own a very large nothing.
Chapter II:
"A year goes by and I can't talk about it. The times were right, and I couldn't talk about it."
-So I Thought, by Flyleaf-
Despite what they'd been through together, it still amazed Jonathan how quickly they came; how ready they appeared to sail off at any given moment. They watched in a line, tall and proud, as their Captain stood before them once again; his sword strapped securely to his waist. "Gentlemen," he started up once the crew was officially gathered. "It's good to see the lot of you here this morning, it is."
It was said sincerely, though the fact that it was said at all seemed to startle the crew somewhat. A few eyes widened at the genuine gratitude behind the older man's words, while the others managed a small nod in response. Jonathan couldn't help but agree with him though: it was really nice to see all of them again. Not that he didn't on a daily basis, but gathered the way they so often used to made memories from a year ago feel as though they happened just yesterday.
Upon agreeing to help out the Governor, Percival had sent Jonathan to fetch the crew while he himself gathered what little provisions were left in their town suitable enough for a voyage like the one they were getting ready to make. (All of the better necessities had been given to the Navy some months ago. Lucky them…) John had run to their houses at once, knocking on their doors and telling them to meet the Captain at the Sacred Heart in an hour's time.
No questions were asked. No complaints were made. Their loyalty to Captain Percival –to their family – was undeniable. It gave Jonathan goose bumps as he watched each and every one of them show up at the given hour, eyes alert and ready for action; their usual garb replaced by clothes very similar to the ones in which he first met them.
"However," the older man started up quickly, his tone back to its usual rough-around-the-edges-exterior, "This is no time for small talk. In case you scallywags haven't figured it out yet, we have a new mission on our hands."
Still in line with the others, Jonathan watched from the corner of his eye as Turk's arm shot up and into the air.
"Christopher. You have a question?"
"Yes, Captain. I'm all for going out to sea again, but, um…why exactly are we going?"
"Good question. So good, in fact, that we should forget for a moment that it's a question I was just getting ready to address, and instead reflect on how good of a question it really is."
Turk slowly pulled his arm down, but not before shooting the older man something akin to both a snarl and a pout.
"Anyway," the Captain continued, "Governor Corman has requested our assistance out at sea. And yes, I know by your confused, horrified looks that the very thought of helping that man sends you into something of a fit, and all be damned if I don't agree with you on that one, but it's the people left in the wake of those who we're going after that we have to focus on; not the Governor himself. And before any of you ask who, exactly, we're going after, allow me this opportunity to fill you ladies in: We're going after what has already been dubbed, 'The Ghost Ship.' Stop shaking, Nervous Guy, it's a metaphor. Anyway, the reason said crew has earned itself this oh-so-clever nickname is due to their ability to rob a town blind. One minute they're there and the next minute they're gone. They leave the town in which they've pillaged with nothing to their name. And by nothing, I really do mean nothing. This crew has yet to kill a soul, reportedly, anyway, but they leave the towns they hit in such a vulnerable state where it's more or less an indirect slaughter.
"We have been summoned because, so far, the Navy has yet to track these people down. Hence the nickname, 'Ghost Ship.' They are, from what I've been told, 'untraceable.' If they're left to continue creating this legacy of theirs, then there is a high possibility that they will eventually hit our town as well. In case you haven't been following along, let me remind you seadogs just exactly what that'll leave us with: Nothing. No food, no supplies, no medicine… Our patients will suffer, as will we, so it's up to us to track these bastards down and haul them in for a trial."
"A trial?"
The heads of the crew turned simultaneously towards the newest voice in their party. Well, new in so far as its presence with the rest of them, anyway…
"Governor Corman," the Captain breathed in annoyance. "To what great displeasure do we owe your company?"
The crew snickered as Percival merely grinned, causing the man in question to turn ruby red. "Doct – Captain Percival. It's all well in good to think that bringing them here for a trial will cause the world to be at peace again, but –"
"Don't you dare."
Jonathan shivered. It felt as though everyone within a ten mile radius just froze from the Captain's latest words; his demand having been hissed through gritted teeth.
"I-I'm sorry?" the Governor spluttered.
"Don't you dare talk to me about how the world isn't easy to fix; don't you even think of lecturing me on how to go about gaining whatever little peace is left. Unlike you, I wasn't brought into this world on a bear skinned rug surrounded by silks and sweet smelling perfumes. I worked for every damn thing I ever got, and do you know what happened then, Governor Corman? It was taken away. Everything. And do you want to know why? Well, it has to do with a sorry, cynical excuse for a 'doctor' killing three different patients all to kick me out and get a raise. Could you do me a favor and remind me how, exactly, he got away with that? Who it was that believed him without hearing a single word from the man who was set up?
"Now I won't say I lost everyone, no, because I had Benjamin with me. You remember Mr. Sullivan, Governor, don't you? The same man you requested a painting from. He turned you down, telling you that he didn't do portraits, but offered you a multitude of other pieces that he was more than glad to paint for you. If memory serves, I believe you took to going around town and telling everyone within earshot how untalented he was; how pathetically unreliable. Well, Governor Corman, that 'untalented, unreliable excuse of an artist' turned out to be a hell of a lot more reliable than your so called men out there – your trained, well polished Navy – who have yet to come back with a single clue as to where this 'Ghost Ship' may reside. So when I do find them, and I can assure you that I will, I – we – will bring them back here for a proper trial. Why? Because just a little over a year ago, it could've been my crew that you were after, and God knows we didn't deserve that treatment from the start, let alone being brought in by the same people who damned us there to begin with. So yes, Governor, I understand that said solution won't automatically cause the world to turn right again, but don't you even dream of lecturing me on how to go about handling the tragedies in this world, because unlike you, I've been there.
"Now, Governor Corman, why exactly are you here?"
The Governor opened and closed his mouth several times before speaking, doing his best to form a coherent response when all eyes from the Captain's crew were staring at him; glaring. The one he knew only as Sacred Heart's cleaning man was practically boring a hole into his skull with those evil eyes of his. "I-I, um… I wanted to come and give my farewell to you and your men. My gratitude is really –"
"I don't give a rat's ass about you and your gratitude and neither do my men. The only thing we care about at all is saving these towns from withering away; from preventing our town from suffering the same fate. Now leave. We'll be doing the same soon enough."
The crew of the Sacred Heart watched as the petrified Governor slunk away and out of sight before turning their full attention back to the Captain.
"Well, that was fun," the older man grinned cockily, his arms crossing over his chest as he did so. "Anyway, as I was saying: Ghost Ship, withering towns, untraceable, etc. Is everybody clear on the purpose behind this new venture of ours?"
A series of "Ayes!" broke out among the men, making it more than obvious to Jonathan that it wasn't just he and Percival who had been feeling a little homesick.
"Glad to hear it, men, because it's time we set sail."
-MV-
JD sat on the ship's railing, one leg over the side while the other remained pressed against his chest. As much as he missed his time out at sea, he never thought ill of the town that he and the Captain had resided. In fact, his feelings about his last year there were immensely positive. Maybe that's why it just felt so strange; to crave the ocean one minute then miss his settled life the next, but it was hard not to feel a small pang of sorrow as he watched his home for the past year fade away.
"We'll be back soon, buddy, don't worry."
The brunet turned his head to the voice of his best friend, eyes curious. "How can you be sure?"
Turk merely shrugged. "Honestly? I'm not. But if we pull this thing off, which I really do think we will, then I'm personally all for coming back. In fact, I don't think a single man on here would put up a fight against returning. No one was unhappy there, you know? We just craved the sea again, that's all. It's…normal for us, I think; to want that again after the kind of life we lived. I feel like sailors and pirates share that one characteristic, if nothing else; that need to be out at sea again, even if you're happy with your current life. It doesn't mean forever, you know? But the feeling a person can get out here, I mean…look, JD, look!"
For the first time since watching their town fade away completely, John looked at their surroundings as a whole; really looked. The sight took his breath away, and all at once, he remembered why it was he missed his life of piracy.
Everywhere he looked, the ocean spread out before him. Sky and sea, sky and sea. It was the perfect picture of freedom; of being allowed to go wherever it was you wanted to go. And as the cool, ocean wind tousled his hair, John's eyes fell on their Captain by the wheel, except this time, his hands were not grazing its wooden frame in longing, oh no. This time, those same, calloused hands were steering the Sacred Heart with a vigor to be admired, and admired it John did. A grin had snuck its way onto the older man's expression; one that even rough, Captain Percival was having a bit of trouble hiding, and the brunet knew why.
Liberation!
John couldn't help but beam as he took in the sight before him, happy that Turk was able to pull him out of his conflicted state of mind and remind him why he missed the sea the way he did. "She was crying last night," he stated at random, a small, reflective smile now alighting his expression.
"Huh?"
"The ship. Just last night, I could have sworn she was crying, but look at her now! Her sails are spread out like wings and her boards don't sound nearly as creaky. She's happy again, Turk, isn't it great? She's really happy again!"
When Jonathan looked up at Christopher, he realized his arms were spread out the way he'd been describing the ship's sails, causing the older pirate to stare down at him with an amused grin. He knew he sounded like a kid; knew he was talking like he'd just emerged from another one of his fantasies, but he couldn't help it. He just felt so damn good, and even though he knew it sounded crazy, he couldn't help but feel as though the Sacred Heart did too.
-MV-
Percival couldn't help but grin as the sea stretched out before him, its blue-green surface shimmering under the surprisingly pleasant sun. Honestly, he never thought he'd miss it; not when his original reason for having first taken to the water was over a false accusation that lost him damn well near everything.
The realization that had eventually led him to his contemplation over what a voluntary life at sea would be like, however, was how much he gained from the experience as well. He lost his family, but he gained a crew. He lost his son, but he gained a protégé. He lost his job, but that, well…that he just got back.
Of course, there were some things he lost that he would never get back. Someone, anyway, and that someone was his first mate; a person whose absence he was already having trouble not dwelling on.
Still though, the people he gained were important to him. The crew of the Sacred Heart was his new family – there was no denying that – and his protégé, Jonathan…
"She's really happy again!"
The boy's voice swam across the ship and into his ears, causing him to peer out of the corner of his eye. He watched as the thirteen year old spread his arms out, beaming, while Baldy looked down at him and smiled. As much as it pained him to admit, he really couldn't blame the older pirate for smiling. His own grin turned up a notch at the sight of John's buoyant expression. Oh yes, the boy was much more than his protégé. Jonathan Michael Dorian was his son, no matter what anybody said. Not that there were many who argued, per say, but hearing patients from back home and various townspeople refer to the kid as his protégé and nothing more began to grate on his nerves after a while. The truth was, the kid had been like a son to him far before their last little adventure came to an end. It'd been hard for him to admit, at first, since he had secretly wondered if thinking that way meant he was trying to replace the son he had lost. But overtime, it became increasingly apparent that John was no replacement. He meant what he'd said that day, when the boy confronted him on the matter. His son was his son, someone he'd always miss, but Jonathan was Jonathan. There was no one who could replace his child, the same way there was no one who could replace John. Simple as that.
Oh yes, it was realizing all that he had gained that finally led him into wondering what a life out at sea would be like without false accusations hanging over his head; without a past that constantly lingered at the back of his mind, torturing him. Not that he never found himself contemplating over the life he had before everything transpired, but it wasn't nearly as bad now; wasn't nearly as often. Despite those series of events having shaped who he was today, those same events no longer ruled how he conducted himself. So the idea of being out at sea again – having an abundance of freedom without the guilt that originally came with it – became more and more appealing over time, despite him having been, dare he think it, happy with his life as a physician; young Jonathan learning diligently by his side.
Percival, however, was no fool. Yes, the outstretched sea before him really was a sight to behold, but the auburn haired pirate knew that they didn't have much time to bask in their new found freedom. They were on a mission, and if what the Governor had told him was true, then something was definitely amiss on the waters in which he once sailed. He knew it was up to him and his crew to figure it out, especially if they wanted to prevent what happened to other towns from happening to theirs.
So, where to begin? Well, the obvious answer was to go about investigating the towns that had been hit so far. That much was a given. Still, it'd take about a week or so until they hit that first mark. What were they to do until then? For starters, they were definitely in need of some sparring practice. Percival himself had been practicing some months before the Governor even showed up at their home, something even Jonathan wasn't aware of. It wasn't a secret kept out of malice, but out of protection. He didn't want the young brunet to be living in constant paranoia; like any day now, a band of pirates was going to show up at their front door; set on slaughtering them all. Not that it wasn't important to be prepared, as he stressed to Jonathan about keeping their house locked and the like, but he didn't want to see the kid living every moment through a lens of suspicion. He didn't want him to look at everyone as a possible enemy.
He didn't want Jonathan ending up like him.
Percival rolled his shoulders, bringing himself back to the moment. Now was no time for reflection. Now was the time to work up a plan. His men were pretty strong, yes, but even the strongest became a little rusty after a year's worth of not practicing.
Captain Percival whistled sharply, grabbing both Christopher and Jonathan's attention. "Sorry to interrupt your tea party, girls, but do you mind if I borrow little Johnny over there? Ba-ba-ba! Don't even bother with an answer, Baldy, because no matter what you say, I'm stealing your friend for a while. Now come on over and take the wheel here. We have a bit of sparring to catch up on."
Christopher pouted as he marched away from Jonathan, though his face adapted a look of sweet nostalgia when he finally did take hold of the wheel. Percival walked over to his young protégé, a slight grin on his face, though he was surprised to see that the brunet was not wearing a similar expression. "You okay there, kid?"
Jonathan pouted. "'Johnny?'"
The older man rolled his eyes. "I'm just reestablishing who's in charge for the rest of the crew and you know it. Now c'mon. Time for practice."
-MV-
Jonathan walked behind his Captain in silence. A part of him felt a jolt of adrenaline at being summoned for a private lesson, just like old times. While he'd taken a few swings with his sword when his father wasn't home, it'd been ages since he had a real match, and going back to the same room in which he'd first learned how to sword fight, well…it was hard not to smile a little bit.
Still, he knew he'd enjoy it more if not for what just transpired up on deck. It wasn't really the nickname that bothered him, but his Captain's reasoning. Did he really still think that he had to –?
A sharp whistle broke through his thoughts, causing him to jump. "Okay, Jonathan, I know it's been a while, which is one of the reasons I called you down here. We're going to start off at a pretty slow pace, but if memory serves, you were a talented swordsman, so I don't expect to stay in this same rhythm for too long, you hear? Now come on; get into a fighter's stance."
Jonathan did so immediately, adapting the stance he'd been taught in from the start; the same style both his Captain and Benjamin had worked so hard in creating. Upon getting himself into the proper formation, he couldn't help but notice the way the older man was looking at him. It wasn't anger, but it certainly wasn't a pleasant look either. Was his footing off? When Jonathan asked him if that was the problem, the Captain merely shook his head. "No, Jonathan. Just concentrate, alright? On the count of three – 1, 2, 3!"
And just like that, they were at it. Swords clinging and clanging away, reminding them yet again why it was they missed their previous life. Jonathan hated having to shed blood, but sparring with his fellow pirates always managed to send a rush of adrenaline through his body, especially when he got to spar with someone as talented as Percival.
Speaking of which… Jonathan could merely blink as the Captain was suddenly out of his line of vision. The man had ducked down without him noticing, using his sword to swipe at his legs in order to throw him off balance. The brunet waved his arms wildly in order to hold himself up, but came crashing down instead. "Ouch," he finally managed, resisting the urge to rub his butt. "Good one, Captain."
The older man grinned. "You better believe it." With typical, Percival transition, or rather, a complete lack thereof, the physician went from grinning to looking grimly serious in a blink of an eye. "But the truth is, you would have done a better job at avoiding that outcome a year ago. So c'mon, kid, back on your feet."
Eager to show his Captain that he was not only eager to regain his former strength, but ready too, the brunet hoisted himself off of the floor and into a quick and practiced flip, landing on the wooden planks beneath him with a little grin of his own. "Aye, aye, Captain!"
It was hard not to feel a swell of pride as he watched his father's eyes expand, if only for a moment, before his expression adapted a returning grin. "Well look who's been practicing on his own time. You think you can incorporate that into your fighting there, kid?"
The young boy nodded with genuine enthusiasm. "I'll try."
"You better."
And the match was on yet again.
-MV-
It was a good practice, that much was certain, but something was bothering Jonathan. If he had any more trouble telling when something was wrong with the kid after their time at sea together, than all was made up for after having lived under the same roof with him for as long as he did. Scarcely would he come out and ask, but he was always able to tell if Jonathan was upset. For the most part, the kid would eventually open up to him. But sometimes, the boy wouldn't say anything at all. He'd just take to his room and stare out the window, silently contemplating whatever it was that was troubling him.
It was those moments in which Percival would voluntarily ask what was wrong.
Something was definitely distracting him today though, no questions asked. For starters, he hadn't seemed nearly as excited upon first starting their match, something he had expected of him. Not to mention that during the actual sparring itself, he would catch the lad with his eyes glazed over, his mind clearly somewhere else, before having to knock him down or throw him off in order to bring him back into the game.
If he'd been paying attention to the kid at all over the last year, which he definitely had been, he knew whatever was troubling him would come up soon. So soon, in fact, that he was willing to count it down. Three, two, one –
"Hey, um, Captain?"
The older man hid a smile, though that wasn't particularly hard to do, knowing there was a potential serious conversation about to take place. "Yes, Jonathan, what is it?"
"Out on the upper deck earlier, when you called me Johnny –"
The Captain whirled around, making the younger of the two jump. It was surprise that caused his eyes to pop, not anger, but he didn't have time to explain that to him, not when his question was already rolling out of his mouth. "That's what's had you upset this whole time? That nickname? Oh for the love of – C'mon, kid, when do I ever call you Johnny? I'm just reaffirming myself as the Captain, that's all. You know that's how it goes around here. Our dynamic is going to be somewhat different than it was back home, you know that, but you also know that you and I – I mean… Oh, c'mon, kid, you know I care about you already. My point is that, when we're on this ship, I'm always going to have to establish myself as bullet proof. You know that."
At first, he thought the boy's blush was due to the embarrassment of having taken such offense to the nickname, but when he spoke next, he realized he was wrong. "I, um…I was actually going to say something else, but thank you for saying that, Captain; that you care. Not that…not that I didn't know that already, and I also know that things are always going to be a little different on the Sacred Heart, but that's okay with me too. Even when you went back to being a physician, you were still, you know…my captain. So really, that part hasn't changed for me, in a way. I know things are going to be a little different on here than they were back home, but I'm okay with that, Captain, I honestly am. But, um…yeah. Thank you…"
Percival shifted uncomfortably, not having expected that as a response at all. Here he was, not quite knowing if he was up for a serious conversation, only to have made the situation worse. Doing his best to pull the two of them back on track, the older man cleared his throat and continued. "So what were you going to say there, anyway?"
He was surprised when it was Jonathan who now shifted awkwardly, and while the lower deck was always fairly darker than the main one, he could tell the kid's skin had just paled. What on earth?
"I, um…the nickname surprised me, admittedly, but I've just been thinking a lot about…a lot about what you said after that; about having to reestablish yourself as bulletproof. About…about having to remind everyone who the Captain is. I don't think you actually have to do that anymore. I just…did you see how quickly they came this morning? How loyally they've been working under your charge for the past year? I don't…I wasn't there when you first met this crew; when they first became a part of the Sacred Heart. Maybe back then, you really did have to establish yourself, but I don't think you have to worry about that anymore. I mean…they're your family now, right? I don't think they're going anywhere…Captain."
Percival was glad that the brunet had his head to the ground, his shoes apparently a very interesting sight, because the more Jonathan spoke, the more his eyes had widened. No wonder the kid had looked so shaken before speaking. No wonder his skin had paled
For the first time since meeting him, Jonathan had expressed an opposing opinion. Not out of frantic desperation, like the day he had insisted on joining them in their fight against Robert, and not out of a deep desire to help, like the day he had pulled him out of his drunken plight, but this was caused by something he thought was right.
Without prompt, without guidance, Jonathan had just essentially told the Captain he was wrong.
He could have reacted in a number of different ways, he really could have, but for one reason or another, the older man could only grin. Now if that's not a man in the making…
Still though, his grin faded into a look of bitter realization when he realized why his protégé's words sounded so familiar; why they managed to strike a real chord. It wasn't just that the boy disagreed with him, oh no, it was that he had heard those words before…
Having starred off into space – a new trait he could not help but blame the former cabin boy for – he was surprised to turn back to find the brunet staring up at him, though he was sure to keep his look of indifference. They stayed like that for a few moments; the two of them just standing there, reflecting. It was Jonathan who first broke the silence.
"Captain? I-I'm sorry. I meant that in no disrespect, honestly, it just –"
"Do you know why I called you down here today, John? Why I wanted to spar with you first before gathering the rest of the crew?"
Jonathan's expression adapted a look of genuine curiosity. Had it crossed the kid's mind at all? No, it wouldn't have. He wouldn't get it until he came out and told him what it was he had already decided prior to their session.
"I'm not going to continue teaching the style Benjamin and I came up with."
The brunet's eyes immediately widened. Well, he definitely wasn't expecting that one. "Captain?"
"You heard me. It was a style that Ben and I were going to teach, and as you can see, Ben is no longer here. However…I still want you to use this style, do you hear me, Jonathan? Ben and I…we couldn't help but notice how well it fit your build; the speed our particular form of fighting required. We were both in agreement, you know, about how well you took to it; how sometimes, it felt as though it'd been made for you. Now how that holds any truth at all is beyond me, considering we started months before we found you out there, holding onto that board for dear life, but what I'm trying to say to you here is this: It's yours. That style…I'm not going to continue with it, but you are. I want you to practice that form as much as you can. I want you to perfect it. I'll help you get better, but that's it. Just you. I'm not going to go up there and start teaching a style that originally required two teachers, but I think Ben would agree with me when it comes to teaching you. So it's yours Jonathan. It's yours."
Percival watched at the boy's jaw fell open, his blue eyes growing even wider. After several moments of merely gaping at him, the brunet finally swallowed. "T-Thank you, Captain. And if…if Ben was here, I'd…"
"I know you would, kid, trust me. I know you would…"
Turning to make for the stairs, Percival stopped mid step, almost causing Jonathan to stumble backwards. Closing his eyes in quiet preparation for what he was getting ready to say next, the older man turned around sharply, though his posture didn't quite match his eyes. "Listen to me, Jonathan, and listen to me well. What I'm about to tell you is something I should've told Ben years ago. He said it to me over and over again, and I never got to tell him that…" The auburn haired Captain stopped. Swallowed. God, this hurt. Not so much the admission, but that it was too damn late. If he could never swallow his pride long enough to tell Ben, than he could at least do what he'd always asked of him and allow somebody else in, even if he'd technically already accomplished that. Still, this was a new step entirely; a step that he did not like permitting for anyone. But Benjamin – and Jonathan – were never just "anyone." If he was going to swallow his pride long enough for somebody, it would have to be them.
"C-Captain…?"
"You're right."
The older man watched as his protégé adapted a look of confusion, and then, just like that, realization. He didn't think the poor kid's eyes would have enough energy to grow anymore than they already had, but apparently, they still had it in them.
"You're right, kid, you are, but I'm not one for sugar coating anything, so here it is: Don't expect any changes. Or at least, don't expect any sudden changes. You're right about them; those peons up there. What they mean to…what they mean to us, but old habits die hard, and you're asking me to let go of what I've grown to think is the key to survival. I can't promise you anything there, Jonathan, but the least I can do is tell you that you're right. Truth be told, Ben told me the same thing more times than I care to remember, and I… Let's just say that I didn't get to tell him that on time, now, did I? So I'm telling you: You're right. But how about, for both of our sakes, we leave it at that and move on."
Percival was more than glad to receive a nod of understanding, though he wondered if he should have cooled down a bit on the Ben talk, now that the kid's eyes were filled with a remorse that felt all too familiar.
Doing what he had not done for months, including their time together back home, the older man reached forward, ruffling the young brunet's hair. "You're fine, Jonathan. You're fine."
-MV-
Jonathan lay on his hammock, exhausted. Today had been an amazing, albeit emotional, first day back at sea. After his practice and unexpected conversation with the Captain, they'd gone back up to the main deck to spar with the rest of the crew. No questions were asked about why only he seemed to be continuing with the style in which both Percival and Benjamin had created, though he did get a few odd looks. Most were wise enough not to press on the matter. Either that or they just figured it out for themselves.
After sparring was over and the usual chores were given out, the rest of the day continued on just as it did the last time they were all out at sea. Dinner was admittedly an adjustment, since a pirate's food (or any sailor's, actually) was never going to match the food served on land. Still, Jonathan wasn't about to complain. He was just happy to be out at sea again, eating with them all the way they did when they first met.
With his muscles sore and his stomach full, the brunet couldn't help but feel tired as he lay inside his hammock. Well, not really his hammock. The crew had been too exhausted to go searching for whose hammock was whose, so they had quietly decided to just collapse into the first one they reached.
Yet, for as tired as he was, Jonathan just couldn't fall asleep. The day had left his mind buzzing with a whirlwind of various thoughts, making it harder for him to nod off.
Eyes only half open, the young brunet went about lazily poking at the wooden planks beside him with the end of his sword. He was about to fall asleep, the rhythm he was creating somehow soothing, when one of the planks suddenly caved in, making him startle.
Jonathan stared, now very much awake, at the hidden little space he just accidentally found. His mind jumped to a million and one possible conclusions as to what could lie inside. A treasure map? A secret passageway? A hidden room? A hidden world?
Shaking his head in order to rid himself of such crazy thoughts, Jonathan breathed in deeply and reached inside, his muscles tense with excitement at the various possibilities of what he might find.
At first, he thought it was empty, his hand having met nothing but dusty old wood. He was about to give up; to pull the loose plank back over the gap and call it a night, but then his fingers grazed over the soft feel of leather, startling him back into the moment. Cautiously, carefully, he pulled the mysterious item out of its compartment and into his trembling hands.
It was a book, that much was certain. Its binding was hand crafted, strong, and its leather bound cover was worn. Shaking from the mere excitement of the find, Jonathan opened its pages, eager to read what was inside. Only then, unfortunately, did it occur to him how utterly dark it was. Squinting, it became apparent that there were words on the pages, though if he was really seeing right, there were dates above those pages as well. So perhaps it wasn't a book, but a journal? After all, who would take the time to hide a book? A journal, on the other hand…
Suddenly, Jonathan was nervous. The realization that it might be a journal – someone's private, intimate thoughts – made his palms sweaty. He shouldn't be reading it, or at least trying to, anyway. He shouldn't even be holding it!
Too tired to deal with the confliction, Jonathan quickly stashed it in the compartment, reaching over and pulling the plank in front of it after doing so. No, he shouldn't read it. It just wasn't right.
Then again, he still wasn't positive that it was a journal now, was he? If the dark had been playing tricks with him and it really was a book, there was nothing wrong with reading it, right?
Shaking his head and closing his eyes, Jonathan turned over on his hammock, making sure he was completely turned away from the item in question. He'd deal with it tomorrow. Today had been a good day, and he was going to make sure those were his last thoughts before drifting off into a much needed sleep.
A/N: I really wanted to show that Jonathan is growing up some (which will be emphasized in other ways throughout the story) so I had him tell Percival that he was wrong in his way of thinking. Jonathan is still going to be that loving kid from the prequel, no doubt, and since we know JD is still a kid at heart in the real world of Scrubs, it's not particularly hard to imagine him that way. He is, however, a little less innocent since last we left him; a little bit bolder too. But like I said, that'll all be touched upon later. Without, hopefully, ruining the character he was in "My Captain." Anyway, that's that. Nothing more to say here other then that I hope you guys enjoyed chapter two. Until next time!
