a/n: happy wednesday! i am sticking the schedule like planned - hopefully will remain that way, at least. today, you get your dose of JONES BROTHERS PAST. that's right. i said it. go thank my bud, cutieodonoghue (on tumblr, or otherwise known as colormyheartred on ao3/ffnet) for the constant support and beta. :)
"I don't have your worth ethic, brother," Killian mutters, scrubbing at the deck of the ship. He's been doing this all day. He's tired, beyond exhausted, but he keeps pushing because he has to. It's his job, and unless he wants to be kicked into the brig or stripped of tonight's meal or next week's pay, he can't stop working. "I wish I did," he mutters into the flask he lifts to his lips.
Liam sighs. "Don't speak of yourself like that," he says, scrubbing alongside him. His arms are just as grimy as his brother's. "You're your own person, little brother, take pride in that."
"You know I look up to you."
"But you aren't me," Liam responds. "Be yourself. Yes, I aim to be a role model, a man that you can aspire to be, but I certainly don't want you to become any sort of copycat. That doesn't make you you." Liam has plenty of wise words up his sleeves. Killian's not so optimistic and hopeful as he is. "Come on, the sooner we get this done, the sooner we can rest."
He puts the cork back onto his flask and gets back to it quickly.
Just as he's almost done scrubbing the deck with maximum effort, or at least all the effort he can put into with his remaining energy, a bucket is kicked over and he raises his head sharply, noting that it's Captain Silver. He's a terrible captain if Killian's being honest, but he can't rebel against the man. He's already known as the drunk but he's also known as the one to do work as he's told, so he's valuable to the Captain. And if not tossing him off the ship and leaving him behind, it'd be death instead.
And considering that Killian wants to make things easier on Liam, to stop being such a bloody stupid burden, he tries not to pick fights.
"The sooner you get done, the sooner you can rest?" Captain Silver laughs. "Sorry, lads, seems you've missed a spot."
"Leave us alone," Liam says.
The Captain looks at the both of them, a smirk on his face that Killian really wants to punch off of him, but he doesn't move, not yet. If anything, he's not trying to get himself punished here...but the way he treats his older brother as if he's trash -
"Always need dear old big brother to take care of you?"
The blood in his veins burn as he feels the insult like another slap to his face and a kick to his shin. He stands up in a rush of rage before a hand is on his chest and pushing him back.
"Killian, stop it," Liam demands. It's with that brotherly tone of his that gets him to sit back down with nothing but a scowl on Killian's face, his eyes sharp as he stares down the man who often makes fun of him.
His hands are curled into fists at his sides as he tries to relax. He's not in the mood to start things, but there's only so much he can take. Especially when it comes to making fun of his older brother because his older brother means everything to him and Liam is absolutely one of the best men he knows out there. He doesn't deserve the foul treatment here.
And he, he feels absolutely useless. He can't defend his brother. His blood boils far too easily and he's only ever taken as the drunk and the gambler and the little boy who's always defended by his older brother. He's never been anything good. After the abandonment of their father he's been a terrible mess. Killian hates being like so, but he doesn't know what to do; how to make himself better than what he actually is. He's a failure unlike his brother, not a hero like he aspires to be. He wonders if he'll ever even be close to his brother's level of heroism and good form.
"Get back to scrubbing, boys," Captain Silver commands as he turns around to descend down the gangplank and back toward land.
Killian clenches his jaw multiple times, unable to suppress his anger any other way. Liam turns back and sighs, patting his shoulder. "Relax, Killian," he mumbles, "let's get back to work."
"Why do we need to answer to him, Liam?" He swallows thickly. "Can't we just leave?"
"No," he says, "not unless you want to be a beggar, little brother. We're seeking honour, and if we must go through these hardships, we will. Alright?"
Instead of arguing any further with his brother, he just nods and reluctantly goes back to scrubbing the deck of the ship. He's back where he first started.
&&.
After a bit of contemplation, he does something he doesn't regret. Perhaps he should regret it after the trouble he has to go through and the trouble he gets in to, but he doesn't.
It's early in the wee hours of the morning and he's not supposed to be doing this, not unless he wants to be tossed off the side of the ship and screwed over, but he sneaks out of his cabin, the one he shares with Liam in a tiny room, two cots to sleep in that hardly keep them warm. When he first steps around, he's already been on this ship for so long, serving as a slave, that he's memorized parts that will squeak if he steps on it. So, he avoids all of that.
Killian peeks out, noticing that the deck is vacated for the night. He makes haste toward the mast, climbing it up, up, and up, to the crow's nest. As much as he hates being a slave, he certainly loves the sea and the stars, and he wants to sail freely one day. He glances around himself multiple times to make sure no one's about to catch him and he would sigh in relief, but he's not even that stupid to do that by this point.
The space is small for him, but he sits up there, making sure his head isn't visible from someone below, as he stares up at the starry skies. The moon shines through a few clouds of their own and he manages to smile. Between the gentle rock of the ship and the view of the night sky from where he is, this is the life he wants to live...for the most part. Just take away the servitude and replace it with freedom and it's perfect.
But he knows perfection doesn't exist in his life beyond Liam. Perfection is just another ideal notion of his that he needs to stop dreaming about. Killian knows that all he can do is work, work, and work, which won't change. This appears to be his life.
Though, he figures that at some point, he'll be thrown overboard considering he's always had quite the temper compared to his older brother. Killian has always been far less controllable by anyone besides his elder sibling, and as much as he hates to admit it, he's a troublesome boy who still holds a grudge against his father for leaving them so suddenly and shoving them into this type of life. Had the man not have been so pathetic and left, he would have been able to live a more normal life of a boy instead of one that requires him to scrub the deck and obey the bloody orders of a man he doesn't want to serve.
He wonders, on most occasions, how this crew even tolerates Captain Silver.
Killian dreams more of a mutiny. Mutiny can lead to their freedom and -
"Killian? Killian, where the hell are you?"
The quiet hisses of his brother's voice down below drift up to his ears and he closes his eyes, feeling the shame rise. He knows he shouldn't be up here, let alone on deck at all. It puts him at risk, yes, but it puts his brother at further risk, too, and considering all that Liam's already done for him, the least he can do is not be an idiot younger brother. Knowing he can't continue to do this, he decides to climb back down slowly, making sure he doesn't miss a step and end his life a day, week, month, or year earlier than it should be.
"Sorry," he mutters when he's safely back on deck. "I just -"
"Wanted to get your arse thrown into the sea?"
Killian flinches a bit. Nineteen years of age and still being scolded by his older brother. "Sorry...Liam, I won't do it again."
Liam sighs. "Like hell you'd make a promise like that," he mumbles, his hand pushing him back down to their rooms. "Come on, before Silver or one of his crew catches us."
They walk back to their room carefully and luckily for them, they don't end up being caught. Killian hates himself more than anything in the world, hates that he can't be more of a man like Liam - more heroic and strong. Or at the least, a better brother for him.
"If you're going to do that again," Liam starts, "do tell me next time. That way I can have some excuses lined up to save you from the brig."
"I won't do it again," Killian says, "I promise you. I won't. That was a mistake, I know."
As bold as he can be on his own, he always falls behind Liam for defense. (He also always falls short on everything else, too.)
His brother sighs again, but nods. "Okay, but if it does happen -" he settles back down into his cot, "- you know what to do."
Killian knows what to do next time. He does. Though he'll keep his promise...he'll keep it because that's what good form truly is.
&&.
He doesn't end up getting all that much sleep as usual. First thing in the morning, he takes a swig of rum from his flask and realizes he's running low on that poison he prefers to have. It keeps him going through the treacherous conditions they have to face under the blazing sun of a summer's' day.
Liam is wrapping some extra rags around his wrist, knowing he's going to be needing them. Their clothes are so evidently ruined and dirty, but laundry isn't going to be done for a while, and they have last priority at the end.
"Liam, when are we ever going to get off this ship?"
"Soon, I hope," he responds, raises his head to look at him.
"What do you mean?" Killian asks, raising an eyebrow. "Are we leaving?"
His brother shakes his head and sits up straighter. "I'll tell you later tonight, but first, we've ought to work through the day."
Groaning in disappointment over both his brother not telling him of these...secret plans, and the fact that they have work to do, he nods. "Okay," he mutters, standing up and running a hand through his hair before he picks his flask up off his cot and shoves it inside his clothes where he can keep it safe.
"I promise I'll tell you, little brother. Just be patient." Liam pats him on the back. "You know what they say. Patience is a virtue."
He wants to laugh out loud, but he shakes his head and trudges his way out of their little room, up to the main deck where the sun shines and the wind blows for a beautiful day, but is also another day that's full of grime and disgusting hard work on repeat. It's almost black and white now.
&&.
Their day is of the usual, except tonight they get their pay.
Of course he's excited. For once, he's not going to screw up and gamble away his money in his drunken stupor. Killian's going to keep his pay in good hands this time. That's what Liam wants and that's what he wants, so he'll do it.
The sun has long set. He wipes the sweat off his face, but that just mixes in with the murky dirt on his forehead and cheeks anyway. He groans and reaches out for a cleaner cloth to wash and wipe down with. He glances out the small hole of a window in their tiny cabin, noting that it's a full moon outside. Killian can taste the salt of his own sweat and though he's been through worse before, it's just nothing new to him by this point. Years and years of being nothing more than some slaves has rubbed off on him more than anything. Liam seems to be the one with all the perseverance and optimism.
"You asked me what's going to happen," Liam starts, "soon, we start a war. Well, 'war' may be pushing it, but more of a rebellion."
He's too confused. Killian blinks and shakes his head. "What? Liam -"
"Don't worry, little brother, everybody else that I've asked on this ship that works under Silver's hands with us has agreed," he explains. "The day you push your sailors too far is the day that mutiny begins."
"But...Liam," Killian stutters, "aren't we - isn't that, isn't that bad form? To start mutiny?"
He'd thought of it earlier, when he was up in the crow's nest, but hearing it now…
He may be younger, but the look on his brother's face is easily deciphered. There's a sense of shame, but he's determined to follow through. His brother is just as stubborn as Killian himself, after all.
"Perhaps...but we've no choice, Killian. The man has pushed all of us too far, has treated us like rubbish. Once this is done, we're free." He walks up to Killian, his hands clasping around his shoulders. "We're free!" he says in a whisper, yet shouting like tone. "We can leave here, we can serve for the King's navy, you hear? Live like the honourable men we've always wanted to. We have the money to offer. We simply need to appeal before him and request of it."
"I…" Trailing off, Killian knows his brother has a point. It takes him a few moments to compose himself, to attempt to think all of this through. He may be hot-headed and hate Silver, but he's never gone so far to think of raising mutiny. Though it doesn't take much to convince him. "Okay," he huffs. "Okay, Liam," he repeats with a nod. "There's no one else I'd rather follow in this."
Liam grins widely, one hand wrapping around Killian's neck and pressing his forehead to his for a moment. "We'll be free men once and for all, brother. Trust me."
Those words sound like music to him, a promise that'll be kept. Freedom, he thinks. Something he hasn't experienced in a long, long time. Not since what their pathetic father put them through.
&&.
It comes all too quickly. In fact, what happens doesn't go according to the plan at all.
There's a fleet of Navy ships sailing straight toward them. Canons go off before Killian can even comprehend what's happening properly, and all Liam tells him is to run and hide.
And given the obedient little brother he is to his elder, he does exactly as he's told. The ship rumbles from cannonfire, tilting and drifting on seas. There's shouting and the heavy patter of footsteps bounding about up top. Killian is worried; more than concerned for his older brother. He feels pathetic hiding down here.
This is not the way of an honourable man. It's not good form to back down from a fight. He hates the idea of not knowing whether Liam is okay or not. It makes him shiver, makes his heart already ache, at the idea of losing the closest person to him. The only person that he even cares about anymore.
By the time he tries to get back up onto deck, the lock is jammed on the hatch and he can't get up. However, he soon realizes the lock isn't jammed. It's stuck because there are bodies piling on top of the hatch and he almost wants to vomit.
Of course he's used to death by now considering the few that have been thrown overboard, but that's different. For all he knows, his brother could be in this pile and he's simply lost another person closest to him because he followed a stupid bloody order! His blood is boiling and there's no other way to find a way up, so he's stuck down here, where nobody remains but himself. Blood is being spilled above him, blood of the men he's been working with, blood of Captain Silver, perhaps - not that he gives a damn about Silver - and blood, maybe, of his dear old brother.
Without his brother, he's -
Killian is nothing.
He's a drunk, he's a boy without friends or family, he's a lad that loses his temper and gets into trouble.
He is an orphan.
That realization makes him want to punch something, but he returns back to his cot in the cabins until it becomes unbearable of a weight to hold, moving over to Liam's cot, curling around what remains of his brother (or so he thinks), and cries. If his brother is not alive, what's left of him is all he has, even if it's rags.
&&.
When he wakes, it's a groggy mess. He doesn't remember falling asleep. The tears have long dried since and he feels like utter shite.
Forcing himself to sit up, the rush of everything that happened yesterday comes back and he feels an overwhelming urge to go upside. Except, well, he's absolutely scared to find out the outcome.
When he climbs out of the cot, he pushes the door open from his cabin, navigating his way up.
The smell of salt assaults him, along with the wind. When he's above, he realizes there are few men left, and none are his brother. Silver isn't even above anymore. Bodies have clearly been dumped into the open seas.
"Where the hell were you, Jones?"
He turns to the voice of one of his crewmates, Jonathan.
"Jon, I -"
Jonathan merely sighs and shakes his head. The crew is more forgiving than Silver himself, luckily. "I don't know how else I'm going to tell you this," the man mumbles, rubbing his forehead. "But, your brother -"
"He's gone," Killian says, forcing the words out even though he despises those words.
"Well, yes, but," Jonathan quickly begins, "he's been taken hostage by the Navy. He may as well still be alive -"
"But he's gone." He squeezes his eyes shut.
"Silver's been taken, too," he says. "Apparently he's been a wanted man for quite some time, evading all the royal guards and navy from his crimes. It was only a matter of time before he was caught. He's going to be facing court justice and all of that."
"And what of us?"
"We're left to fend for ourselves," Jonathan states. "What few of us remaining, that is."
All of these words are just words to him now. Silver is gone, which is a plus, but so is his brother.
"Then why take hostages?" Killian asks, still confused. "If they wanted Silver, they could've easily gotten him without bloodshed and hostages, so why the hell did they take hostages?" He's losing his temper, he knows, but his brother means the world to him, is his world, and losing him is like pulling the rug from under him. "My brother! The most honourable man I know, taken as a damned hostage?"
"Killian -"
"Leave me alone, Jonathan," he dismisses, shaking his head and waving him off. "I...I need...time."
&&.
The first real night, without a doubt, of knowing his brother is far away somewhere, makes it hard for him to sleep. He tosses and turns uncomfortably in bed, angry and frustrated. Liam is still alive, he tells himself over and over, all I need to do is find him. That's what family does, right?
He laughs a little to himself, gulping heavily. "I'll find you, Liam," he murmurs into the quiet cabin, the occasional creak of footsteps up top from the shifts of night guarding and sailing.
No one really knows what they're doing on this ship. Without much of a crew beyond ten people and no captain to give orders, everybody is simply trying to find their way back to land. If they can dock, then they can resupply. They can find places to lay their heads more comfortably at night and then come to a decision about what to do. Or well, he thinks that's what the remaining people plan.
After a fair bit of thought over the night, he knows what he's going to do.
This crew is loyal, they really are, just not much to Silver. Most of them simply obeyed Silver for the pay. With the right Captain, they can be right on their way.
&&.
The remaining men rally well.
"I know you all don't know my brother as well as I do," he starts, "but he doesn't deserve whatever the bloody court may serve him. We've all just been slaves, haven't we? No more, aye?"
They nod.
Killian inhales a deep breath before continuing. "And no one else that was taken deserves it, right?"
"No," Jonathan buds in, "none of them deserved it. Some were arses, but they were good men."
He nods in agreement with a faint smile. It's harder to smile when Liam's not around. It's harder to see the light. "Then we find them," Killian says, "and we set them free. We're all free already! We can do more. We're not obeying Silver any further. I'm...hardly a candidate to Captain. I'm young. Inexperienced." He swallows. "Is anybody willing to take up such a role?"
Everybody shares looks, heads turning and looking, eyes flitting from one face to another. No one volunteers.
"You should do it, then," another man says. "That's one way to gain experience, eh?"
"But -"
"Aye! The younger Jones can do it!"
"Yeah!" they all chant.
Before he knows it, he's Captain Jones.
Captain Jones.
His brother deserves the title better than he, but he's not here. There's no other choice. By majority, he wins the spot.
He only has one goal, though, and it's to save his brother and the others taken captive by the Navy. Killian's not going to stop at any point and give up.
Just you wait, Liam.
