Chapter Three

Thank you for all the lovely reviews! Here is a lovely long chapter as a thank you :)

The next day, Jim awoke to find his wrists had been bandaged and there was a fresh dressing on his shoulder. There was a bowl of broth and a large cup of water and a smaller cup of wine placed by the door. Jim went to them eagerly, downing the broth hungrily and rinsing his parched mouth, alternating the wine and the water. It was only then that he realised that he was no longer chained up. He rolled his shoulders, stretched his wrists. He felt...well, he felt okay, all things considered.

There was a folded pile of clothes on one end of the bed that he had not slept on. A rough cotton shirt with a patchy leather jacket that was supple under his fingers. A pair of strong boots and a belt with weapon holsters. No weapons though - while Jim was a very good shot, he was terrible with a sword. He closed his eyes and breathed in slowly. If he had any hope of surviving, of getting back to the navy and telling them what happened, he would have to play along. He pulled on the clothes, wincing as he was essentially garbing himself in the uniform of the enemy. Jim ran a hand through his blond hair to tidy it as he had no comb, and ran a hand over his stubbled jaw. There was no way he would be trusted with a razor. The door thunked open and Jim whirled around.

"Ah. You're awake."

It was the gruff man who had saved him on the lifeboat; Jim recognised his voice. He was fairly attractive despite his grumpy expression and stubbled jaw, and Jim saw the small cut where he had attacked him with a sword. He ignored the squirm of guilt.

"I though maybe old pointy ears had killed you and left you in here to rot." The man continued. "Now get on the bed."

Jim looked round at the bed, but didn't move.

"I said get on the bed!" The man took hold of him and hoisted him easily onto the bed, placing down a leather bag that appeared to be full of instruments. "Name's McCoy, Leonard McCoy, but everyone calls me Bones."

"You're... a doctor?" Jim questioned, as the man pulled out a small glass phial and a needle. "Hey! What you doing!" He tried to scramble off the bed,but before he knew it the man had jabbed him in the side of the neck.

"It won't kill you, jeez." Bones hissed, packing everything up. "Now take your clothes off."

Jim stared at him in fear. "I just dressed!"

"And now I'm saying take them off. Captain want's me to give you the one over." He took a step backwards and folded his arms, fixing Jim with a glare. "If you don't do it, I will."

Clenching shut his jaw, Jim slowly removed everything until he was completely naked, and he stood covering himself with his hands, looking everywhere but at Bones. The doctor laughed gruffly and started to check him. He took his temperature and his pulse, felt all up and down his arms before removing the bandage on his shoulder to check the wound. Jim saw black bruises all over his chest where the captain had manhandled him and winced at the memory. Bones didn't say anything; it seemed as though he wasn't surprised, and Jim guessed it had been him who had re-bandaged his shoulder while he was unconscious.

"Well you seem fine to me." Bones eventually said, handing him back his clothes. "I'll tell the captain, god knows where he wants you. I'd go report to him if I were you."

Jim looked at the door, as he dressed. "The... captain?"

"Hm. Spock. Keep going up until you reach the deck. You'll see his door." Bones left him then.

Jim paced the room for a few minutes, summoning his courage. He had lived through worse. He growled at the fact that this Captain Spock knew he'd lived through worse and made a mental note to never laugh at sea legends ever again. After two of them having turned out to be true in one day, Jim was hoping that the universe had stopped fucking with him. He straightened his shirt and left the room. The deck was surprisingly well kept, contrasting with the stereotype of pirates all being lazy, dirty beasts. Apparently not. Jim kept going, hiking up the steps and ignoring the twinges in his shoulder. Eventually he reached the top deck and sighed, breathing in deeply.

It was a beautiful day to sail, the dank weather from the attack was long gone. The air smelt salty and fresh, the ship blowing along the waves smoothly. The sun was warm overhead, and Jim remembered why it was he wanted to sail. His happiness was short lived, as the never-ending pain of Franklin's death hit him again and so he headed towards the Captain's quarters. He saw what Bones had meant about the door. It was made of a dark, strange wood with odd patterns inscribed in it. While he wanted to study them further, Jim thought it probably wouldn't be a good start to his resolution to survive to see Captain Spock's head on a stick if he was late. He knocked on the door.

There wasn't a reply at first, and then the door opened to reveal a pretty woman with dark skin and ever darker hair. She was wearing a dark red dress under a matching red jacket, and she blinked up at Jim with big brown eyes before smirking.

"You look more alive." She said, a hint of something in her voice suggesting she had been on the lifeboat with him.

"Let him in Uhura." Came a voice from inside the room, and it actually made Jim's heart pound with fear.

The woman named Uhura stepped out of the way and ushered him into the room, before closing the door and vanishing from sight. Jim stared about him. The captain's cabin was a large rectangular room with an oak desk in the very centre, behind which sat Spock. There were shelves filled with books and sparkling with gold coins and jewels, and hanging on the walls Jim saw old maps and paintings. It wasn't how he had expected it to be, everything was neat and tidy and clean. To the left there was an open door, revealing a huge double four-poster bed strewn in cushions and blankets.

"If you are quite done examining my bedroom Mr Kirk..." Came a voice from the desk, and Jim looked round to see that Spock was staring at him expressionlessly with one eyebrow raised. "...sit down." He indicated a stool in front of the desk.

"I'd rather stand." Jim hissed through clenched teeth, trying not to sound too disgusted. Spock simply raised a single eyebrow.

"Very well. I wish to inform you of the duties I expect from you while you serve on this ship...unless you have decided that you would rather I tossed you back into the sea?"

Jim ground his teeth in answer.

"Obviously, until you have proven your loyalty to myself and my crew, you will not be permitted to carry any weapons. You will be a rigger along with Riley and Sulu. I presume you know what that means, from your time aboard The Duchess?"

Jim nodded once. "Work the running riggings... furl and release the sails."

"If you do a good enough job according to my first mate, then you shall be rewarded with a meal." Spock wasn't looking at him anymore but had returned to whatever he was reading on his desk. "If, however, you do not, then I shall have no choice but to return you to the holding cell for a few days. This is the way with all of my crew. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes." Jim swallowed, his braining trying frantically to come up with a retort, but his fear not permitting him to do so.

Spock glanced upwards at him. "Yes, what?"

"Yes captain." Jim replied in a whisper.

Spock waved a hand at him, and Jim retreated back out onto the deck where Uhura was waiting for him with her hands on her hips.

"Well." She was grinning. "Look at you."

Jim rolled his eyes and flashed a grin back. He hadn't ever seen a girl in so short a dress. As if she could see the thought crossing his mind, she smacked him on his uninjured shoulder.

"You make quite the dashing pirate."

Jim's grin wavered a little but he simply gave her a mock salute and began scrambling up the rigging. At least if he was working, he would be focusing on the task at hand, and not thinking. Mustn't think. But he was determined to find out what they knew about the tentacled monster and whether Spock truly was responsible for the deaths of his crew. The ropes were familiar under his hands, and while the shouts of the crew were in unfamiliar voices, the commands were the same as he was used to. He didn't know what this ship was made of, but damn if it wasn't faster than any other ship he had ever seen. She glided across the ocean as though she had wings, and the wind against his skin was so exhilarating that Jim forgot his worries for a while.

It was hours before anyone spoke to him directly though. "You are vell now?" It said, and Jim turned to see a young boy no older than seventeen with curly blond hair. He was perched on the riggings above him with a grin on his face.

"Who are you?"Jim replied flatly, trying to think about nothing but the knot he was securing.

The boy climbed down a little. "Chekov sir!" He saluted. "And you are err Mr Kirk? Yes?"

"You're captain's told you all about me, I guess."

Chekov laughed. "The keptin has err said no such thing sir. I talked to Mr Bones." He paused. "You are doing it all vrong sir." He indicated the knot.

Somehow Jim had gotten it all wrapped about his fingers, and with a frustrated sigh he had to untie it and started over again. "I can't concentrate with you going on at me." He snapped, quietly, but just loud enough to the boy to hear. "Damn fucking pirates..."

A hurt expression came over Chekov's face. "If it vasn't for me sir, you vould be dead." He replied. "I vas the one who saw you sir." And with that he climbed up to the crow's nest and settled himself inside, picking up a telescope.

Jim cursed under his breath. He retied the knot and scrambled across to the next. Taking a break, he looked over the deck of the ship. The Asian man he had seen before was at the helm, expertly handling the wheel. Spock stood beside him, still as a statue. He turned his head as though he could feel Jim looking at him, and Jim quickly turned back to the ropes before he was caught. Looking at the deck in the other direction, he could see Uhura adjusting a pirate hat on her head and stalking over towards Spock.

The sun was setting, and while Jim knew he needed to work faster his mind was tripping over the thoughts that Franklin had always loved sunsets at sea, and that now he would never lay eyes on another.

That night Jim leant that the pirate crew also liked to sit about and drink, only they were much louder and much more disorderly than the crew of The Duchess had been. Jim sat in between two barrels as far away from the rest of the crew as possible, his knees brought up to his chest and his head resting on them. Uhura was expertly dancing in the centre of the deck while fiddles and flutes played, and several of the men had stripped down and were wrestling. Jim however was watching Chekov. The boy was curled up in the arms of the Asian man, and they were giggling and nuzzling and chatting away happily as though they were the only two people in the world.

The sight made Jim's heart ache. He closed his eyes and buried his head in his knees until there was the sound of someone approaching, and a bottle tapped against his head.

"Chin up kid." It was Bones. "Ain't the end of the world you know."

Jim grabbed the bottle from him and started to glug it, ignoring the nasty taste and burning after effect, until Bones managed to snatch it back off him

"Damnit kid!" He hissed. "Slow down!"

Jim blinked against the strong burning in his throat and allowed the doctor to yank the bottle from his hands. He was so tired, but he had to stay up until everyone left. He had to find out the truth about whether Spock had killed all those people. And if he had, Jim would find some way of sneaking into his chambers and killing him, no matter the cost. He'd do it for Franklin.

Eventually the crew began to filter away in small groups, until only he and Uhura remained. She was sharpening a dagger, the blade reflecting the moonlight.

"You should get some sleep," she said, and passed over a dark, thick crust of bread that Jim tore into eagerly. "The Captain was impressed with you today."

This latter part was said in an almost whisper. Jim shrugged and continued staring out at the sea. Uhura rolled her eyes and got up, sheathing her dagger and stalking towards the Captain's quarters. Jim waited until a few moments had passed since she entered and followed, skirting around to where he had seen some windows at the back of them. He breathed silently and pressed himself against the thick wood.

"...the tenth ship in only a few months."

"I am aware of this, Nyota."

"It's only a matter of time until we're next."

There was a pause.

"Do you not think I am doing everything in my power to make sure that does not happen?"

Another pause.

"The situation is under control Nyota, do not worry. I need you to keep performing admirably; the crew do not have to know that this monster is out there. I will not let it happen to us."

"Yes captain."

Uhura's reply sounded strained, as though she was clenching her jaw, and then Jim heard footsteps and the sound of the cabin door opening and closing, and then there was nothing but the wind. Jim sat on his ankles and stared out across the black water. So that tentacled monster hadn't belong to Spock? Were there more than one wife's tale? Of an inhuman captain and of a kraken, and not of them together? He shook his head as the effects of whatever Bones had given him began to set in, but it wasn't long before Jim's eyes were too heavy to open.

He woke up in a hammock deep below deck. The dirty folds of thick material were wrapped about him securely and there was a woolen blanket thrown over him too. He rubbed his eyes and tried to clear his head before sitting up and looking about. He was in a large room that appeared to be two levels below the deck, as he could hear voices above him, but there were no windows looking out, and it was filled entirely with hammocks and bunk-beds and crates of possessions. Jim saw Chekov and the Asian man curled up naked in a bed several feet away, and guessed that it was too early for most of the crew to be up. It was light though, so Jim climbed unsteadily out of bed and smartened his clothes as best he could.

He wished he could have a wash; The Duchess had had basins of clean fresh water, but as he looked about he couldn't find anything of use, and so in the end he climbed up to the deck in the same clothes he had worn yesterday. Bright sunlight greeted him, but there was a chill wind that cut right through him and made him shiver. There were a total of three people on deck. A blond-haired man at the helm, and the captain and Bones standing at the very front talking. As soon as he appeared however they both turned around.

Bones hurried over to him. "It's early; what're you doing up? You should sleep some more."

Jim raised his eyebrows at him. "Who put you in charge?"

"He did." Bones jabbed a finger over his shoulder at Spock. "In charge of you, anyway. The captain wasn't too happy about you sneaking around last night. It was him who took you to bed!"

A flash of fear ripped through Jim's chest.

"You're to stick with me now, below deck, and you best bloody well do as you're told!" Bones' cheeks were red with annoyance.

Jim followed him down below.

There was only a small space designated for Bones to patch up the crew, and Jim was surprised to see that all four of the beds were full, and two more men were lying on the floor. Bones handed him a roll of bandages.

"You ever bandaged a guy up before?"

Jim nodded. He'd had to get familiar with patching himself up even before he had left home. Bones' eyebrows rose fractionally but he didn't ask.

"Change the bandages on him and on her," Bones pointed, "Clean the wound with salt water and put the dirty bandages in that bucket."

Jim hated working below deck. The infirmary smelt of death and disease and he missed the fresh air and salty sweet spray of the sea. He felt trapped and a constant nausea had wedged itself into his throat. He tried not to complain though, thinking about Bones and how he lived with this every day, because he soon learnt that through a door to the left was the doctor's cabin. Jim didn't get a look inside but he guessed that the air was just as foul in there, and he actually took pity on Bones, despite him being a doctor.

"You been on here long?" He asked, as they were washing the dirty bandages to make them clean again.

Bones made a 'pfft' sound. "Near now three years." He said. "It ain't so bad."

Jim hung his head. "You know... Franklin and I were going to explore the world. Go on adventures... bring home buried treasure..."

"Ha! Buried treasure!" Bones barked. "Damnit kid, this ain't a fairy tale. This is hard shit, and the sooner you realise that, the better off you'll be. I hate to say it but your boyfriend is dead, and we're all you've got now."

"Will I ever be allowed off?" Jim asked, swallowing back a lump in his throat.

Bones shrugged. "Sometimes we make port. Can't remember the last time I set foot on land though. We get most our supplies from other ships; food and all. I guess if you ask the captain..." He trailed off. "Nah. He seems to like you. Can't see him giving you up just yet."

Jim pursed his lips. "What the hell does that mean?" He snapped.

"We've got a big crew kid." The doctor replied, climbing to his feet. "Ain't like the captain to take on another mouth to feed. Speaking of which, when are the last time you ate?"

Jim shrugged. He wasn't in the mood to talk anymore, but Bones ordered him through the ship until they reached the kitchen and forced him to eat a bowl of watery broth and bread before they carried on working.

After a while, there was a knock at the door. Jim didn't bother looking up until his name was spoken.

"Jim. Captain wants to talk to you."

Jim jerked upright and met the dark eyes of Captain Spock. He hesitated, but Spock had already turned to walk away, obviously expecting Jim to follow. With a worried glance at Bones, he did.

"Mr Kirk," he said shortly, leading Jim back above deck. Jim breathed in the fresh air with a grin, and did not catch the curious expression that crossed Spock's face. "I made it very clear that you will do as you are told, is this correct?"

Jim frowned. "What the hell-"

"When I found you outside my cabin it was apparent that you had been listening in to my conversation with my first mate Uhura." Spock cut across him, and though his face remained still, his tone was like ice. "It was a violation, and I will not tolerate it happening again. Do I make myself clear?"

Jim grit his teeth and hunched his shoulders. "Listen you-"

He couldn't get out anymore, because suddenly Spock had turned on him and taken hold of his throat. He drove him backwards against the railings and lifted him up slightly until Jim was leaning over the side, and the only thing stopping him from toppling into the water was Spock's grasp. Jim took hold of his forearm, his whole body frozen in wild panic and he stared at Spock with wide eyes. Everyone on deck had stopped their work at the scene, but Spock didn't seem to care. He had fixed Jim with a glare that could have melted metal, and tears of fear actually clouded Jim's vision.

"I said, do I make myself clear?" The captain hissed lowly.

Jim nodded as best he could, profusely, and it seemed like forever before Spock slowly dragged him out of harm's way and dropped him onto the deck. Then he marched off towards the helm and took the wheel from the Asian man. Jim tried to swallow, his already sore throat now feeling even rawer, and then he crawled his way back to Bones. Thankfully the doctor said nothing, and they continued their work in silence. Jim couldn't wait for the day that Spock got what was coming to him.

And Bones had said Spock liked him. Bullshit.

That evening, Jim's meal was smaller - presumably because of his 'disobedience.' He didn't really mind, his appetite was almost non existence and in its place was a hollow terror that never really went away. He ate his meal slowly. Despite Spock's warnings, he was going to listen at the window again. This time he drank no wine, keeping his head clear. He reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled into the conversation, and after a while he, Chekov, Sulu and Riley - who insisted he was descended from Irish royalty - played cards. The cards were worn and dirty and they had few things to bet with, but Jim found them to be good company nonetheless. It was too dark to play for much longer, and so their little group meandered off to bed. Except Jim. He waited for a long, long time in the darkness before he snuck back around the cabin. But this time there was silence until-

"Captain."

"Doctor McCoy. Was Kirk's performance adequate today?"

There was a grumble, "Yes. Of course it was, since if he wants to eat he has to work well."

"You disapprove of my methods."

"Yes, dammit. If he starves to death he's no good to anybody, and he can't work on a ship if he isn't fed properly!"

"Well, as long as he continues to perform up to his current standard, there shall be no problem, will there doctor?"

Another grumbled string of curse-words followed.

"Please excuse me for a moment."

There was the sound of the door opening, and Jim barely had time to think. He swung himself over the side of the ship, clutching onto the railings and wedging his feet against a small knot of wood. He ducked his head, but he could do nothing about hiding his trembling fingers as they clung onto the rails.

Please just walk by. Please don't see me.

For a split second, he was so sure he had saved himself. He saw the shadow of Spock passing by and his footsteps seemed to fade away, but it must have been a trick of the wind because before he knew it he had been grabbed and hauled onto the deck. Spock threw him down so hard something cracked, but Jim wasn't sure if it was his head or his hand because the unhealed wound in his shoulder also started to throb. And then fear gripped him. Spock was leaning over him with a dark look flashing across his face, and Jim was so sure he was about to die, when suddenly Bones appeared at their side.

"Fuck's sake kid!" He threw up his hands.

Spock slowly crouched down, his eyes not leaving Jim's for a second, not even to blink, and then without a word he took hold of his wrist and dragged him over to the main mast. At the contact, Jim started to thrash and kick, but of course Spock was far to strong for him. The captain threw him against the mast and started to fix him there with ropes, before turning to Bones.

"Fetch me the nine-tails." He ordered.

Bones grit his teeth, but he knew better than to question his captain. Jim refused to make a sound even as Spock ripped his shirt from his back. He couldn't see what was going on, but he had an inkling of what was about to happen. Frank had whipped him more than once with his leather belt. Bones appeared in his view, his face unreadable as he placed a small wedge of leather between Jim's teeth.

Spock said something quietly to himself and then the most blinding, white hot pain that he had ever felt streaked down Jim's back. His whole body spasmed and he bit down hard on the leather, pressing his forehead to the wooden mast and closing his eyes tight shut.

Jim didn't know how many lashes he had earned himself, and he didn't care. All he knew was a world of blinding pain, and he wondered why it was that everything in his life ended up twisted into pain and loneliness and blood. Eventually the lashes stopped and Jim couldn't hold himself up any longer, collapsing in a heap with his wrists still tied painfully high. Spock came and undid them, letting Jim fall to the floor.

"Do not test me again, Mr Kirk." he said. And then he left.