A/N: I know. It's Saturday. Not Friday. As in, "I'm late for the third time this story." -face palm- I'm sorry, you guys. Believe me when I say that it's never intentional. Besides the various on-going occurrences that have been making my life just a little bit busier than usual, I'm now in the process of getting ready for a new semester, which starts up again for me this week. Fun stuff, right? (Actually, as far as colleges go, I'm fairly content with mine). Still, the point is this: This update is late and I apologize. That being said, I just want to thank you guys for both your patience and your extremely appreciated reviews. I hope this chapter was worth the wait and that, if you're a reader getting ready for school, I wish you good luck! And if you're not, then allow me to say that I am jealous. lol Enjoy the chapter!

Disclaimer: I own a very large nothing.

Chapter XII:

"Get alone for awhile, Citizen. You'll see how the innocent are bound to the damned. What is just is, I know. So we're trapped by answers; love haunts to the end."

-Citizen, by Broken Bells-

"S-S-S-S-STORM!"

Not bothering to wait around for a proper response, Mr. Murphy scrambled away from the stairs that looked over them, awkwardly heading back for the main deck.

Another jolt from the storm sent both Percival and Jonathan stumbling over; this particular shift in weight causing the young brunet to break free (though definitely not on purpose) from the older man's hold.

Having landed on all fours, the used-to-be-cabin-boy pushed himself up off the ground, his head swiveling every which way in order to locate the Captain.

The auburn haired pirate was already at the bottom of the stairs; his own gaze locating John's the minute he located his. "C'mon, Jonathan!" he bellowed, the storm already making it harder to hear. "We gotta move!"

It was then that the full intensity of what was really taking place hit the thirteen year old pirate, and God, did it hit him hard.

"What's going on? What should we do?"

"Move it, boy!"

A flash of lightning. A bolt of panic.

"Are we fighting? Are we retreating?"

"'We!' To hell with 'we,' you fool! Every man for himself!"

A burst of thunder. A cry of pain.

The inevitable realization of on-coming death.

Jonathan shivered where he stood, the lightning bolt that had crashed into the Fractured Enid replaying itself in his mind. The memory of his back hitting the water; the memory of him thinking he was going to die…

Since the storm that started it all, a deep seeded fear had rooted itself inside the young brunet's conscious, refusing to let go. It had never really surfaced until now; what with all the storms he had experienced since then only happening when he was firmly on land. He had cringed during every one, but never once had he lost his mobility. Truth be told, for as long as he was with the Sacred Heart, it was a bit of a miracle that this was his first encounter with another storm at sea, but it didn't take away from the fact that he found himself suddenly breathless; the idea of going up on the main deck taking away all rational thought.

Before he knew what was happening, two very large, very familiar hands were placed firmly on his shoulders. The shake that followed after pulled him out of his trance, but the fear – along with the added fear of looking Percival in the eye – only added to his dilemma.

"Look at me."

Jonathan obeyed, the gaze that met him back not at all matching the panicked frustration he felt upon being shaken out of his stupor. They were quiet but searching; calm but sincere. They demanded his full attention without feeding on his vulnerability, which was exactly what Jonathan needed.

And Percival knew it too.

"Listen to me, Jonathan, and listen to me well: That storm – the one that threw you off of the Fractured Enid – was by far the best thing that has ever happened to you."

A spark awoke in the young teen's eyes, not having expected that comment in the slightest. "Captain?"

"I won't sit here and pretend that it wasn't terrifying for you – that it wouldn't have been terrifying for anyone, for that matter – but think about it, John: If that storm hadn't come, who knows where you'd be right now? Probably on the Fractured Enid, to be honest with you there. And if they kept on neglecting you to the point of visible malnutrition, which, if you don't remember, you were very malnourished upon coming here, then I'm not even sure you'd be –"

It was rare for the Captain to clam up mid-rant, but Jonathan couldn't help but notice the way his lips pressed together in a thin, narrow line; as if whatever realization he just came upon had not been premeditated; had not been one he ever truly thought about until now.

Another blow to the ship sent them spiraling, but when John next hit the Sacred Heart's walls, he was hit with a realization as well.

One of the worst experiences in his life had led him to the best experience of his life.

The Captain was right: Had it not been for that storm aboard the Fractured Enid, Jonathan would never have found himself on board of the Sacred Heart. He would never have met Turk, his long lost brother, or Ben, whose presence he missed every day, or even –

Captain Percival was back on his feet in no time at all, gaze set firmly on the young man before him. "Come on there, Newbie," he said quietly, the storm's rage having ceased for a blissful moment of peace. "We're gonna need ya'."

At this, the brunet's eyes widened. We? As in, Captain Percival too?

A bolt of lightning reminded them both of their current situation, but this time, JD didn't hesitate. This time, he took that jolt of fear and used it as a jolt of adrenaline.

Nodding in a way that borderline mirrored his father, the thirteen year old followed Captain Percival up the stairs, ready to face the storm that raged before them all.

-MV-

What had been a thirty minute storm felt more like a thirty hour hurricane.

As tempted as he was to lean against the helm rather than steer it, Percival's calloused hands held on strong to the wooden wheel beneath him, ever grateful for the Sacred Heart's endurance. Their ship may have not been the most spectacular looking one in the world, but it worked when it damn sure counted.

Having several sails swept away and a chunk from the main mast missing, it took a while before they were able to haul the anchor back in, what with having to replace everything damaged. There were certain reparations that could only be made once they finally made port, but that thought caused another storm entirely to brew inside the older man's mind.

His whole reason for having left those abandoned bodies back at the previous village had been to reach the next one on Hutnik's list quickly, but what now? Yes, the time it would have taken to both gather and bury the dead would have taken considerably longer than the time they spent fighting the storm, but the time they spent saving their sorry asses was still long enough to cause an unwavering stroke of panic to grab him and not let go; it's voice both mocking and unbelieving as it consistently asked, "Will you make it on time?"

Of course, the rest of the crew had no idea he was panicking, even if he could tell a couple of them were thinking it themselves. Well, the ones that were awake, anyway. Christopher, Phillip, Todd, Lonnie and the Big Guy were all still up from the adrenaline rush that the storm had left them with. The other crewmen, however, were exhausted from their battle with mother nature. Percival had granted them time to rest up, though half of them didn't even make it to their hammocks.

One of those pirates being Jonathan.

Quietly peering over his shoulder in order to take another look, the older man watched as his son's chest moved rhythmically up and down, the sight of his slumber allowing him a moment's peace of mind. While the storm had been a chaotic one, Percival couldn't help but notice the closure John received upon not only facing it, but helping them all survive. Except for his reaction upon Doug's initial cry for help, the boy had faced the storm with not only a strong stance, but a strong heart. He had successfully fought off the storm and his fear, so that by the time the sails were set and the ship was ready to go, John had really stood out from the rest of the crew; his exhaustion not just coming from the weary remains of the battle, but from a place of acceptance and peace.

Realizing how sickeningly sentimental his thoughts were becoming, the Captain shook his head with a growl, knowing that their current situation was still too up in the air for him to reflect on the man that his son was becoming. He had to focus on the town that was ahead; he had to focus on the devastating but undeniable possibility that the people they were sailing upon could be already gone from this world.

Fortunately, that devastating shock never came.

The crew stirred awake at the Captain's call for anchor, his tone unusually buoyant. When everyone finally came to, it didn't take long for them to understand why.

Still a few miles away from port and they could already tell that they made it on time. It was only when they sailed closer and saw them raise the white flag of surrender on the town's main watchtower did they raise a flag of peace themselves, the jolly roger having scared them away.

"Our apologies." It was the first thing Percival said upon making port, the Sacred Heart firmly docked with the crew still on board. (He had advised them to stay put in order to ease the town's nerves, not wanting to scar them even further). While he successfully maintained an authoritative stance for both his crew and the town to behold, the pain of seeing a far too skinny village crowded nervously behind their governor was making his stomach roll with an emotion he very scarcely felt: sympathy. "While my crew may not experience this intent of mine on a daily basis, my aim here was not to scare you off."

Suspicion did not fade away from the Governor's wary gaze, his brown eyes still drinking him in. "You talk with unwavering precision. Aren't you a little too smart to be a pirate?"

Percival's mouth twitched lightly, noticing the hidden insult before it was even completed. It was true: There were plenty of men who had turned to piracy due to their own laziness; plenty of men who were drawn to their oh-so-wonderful-life by the lore of jewels, wenches, and booze. But after years of being out at sea and meeting all lots of their kind, Percival also knew of pirates who were branded as such based off of false accusations, much like himself. They had come from a respectable place in society, and while the older man's definition of what "a respectable place in society" really meant, he met more than his fair share of pirates to know he was not the only one who came from a decent past life. Yes, some of them took to the evils of their world; their bitterness and hatred for the people that put them there outweighing their former logic. But others, much like himself, had not taken to throat cutting or robbing those who couldn't afford to be robbed. Lost treasure was the name of the game, though the Sacred Heart's priorities had obviously changed since those times…

Still, this man was not the individual he was going to unload that speech on. After having been pillaged by the Ghost Ship, was it any wonder he thought poorly of them? "I'm a physician," he decided on. "My reasoning for voluntarily taking to piracy – at least this time, anyway – was to help those hit by the Ghost Ship. I have papers from my Governor back home proving my…innocence."

Percival could practically feel his crew wincing for him, the lot of them knowing how hard it must've been for him to get that last sentence out. However, the town wasn't paying attention. Upon hearing the word "physician," their minds were too overcome with hope to pay much attention to anything else.

It was hard to shock someone like Captain Percival, but when the villagers went from staring at him like he was an ogre to surrounding him with desperate cries and tear stained faces, the older man's eyes went wide.

"Move, the lot of you, move!" The Governor shoved his way through the crowd of villagers that had moved from behind to in front of him in mere seconds, his hand reaching out to shake Percival's. "I'm sorry, Doctor –"

"Doctor Percival, and don't be. Your people are in need of some serious help, after what just happened to you."

The Governor nodded eagerly. "Yes, the famine was horrible. All of our crops –"

"Wait a second…your crops?"

The unnamed Governor nodded. "Of course! Our harvest failed miserably this season, and our physician, already old in age, died in the process. We've sent letters for help to a few of our fellow villages, but none have responded. We've been seeking both a doctor and nourishment for the past several months, eating portions too small to fill a child. If your own Governor sent you, then surely that's why you're here?"

Percival closed his eyes, the realization of what had just been told to him hitting him and hitting him hard. The Ghost Ship had struck that past town, yes, but that same town was probably their last one for a while. They were more than likely at another port entirely; selling their plunder for all they could get.

Still, wherever they were now, they had to be close by. In fact…

"Governor –"

"Governor Callahan."

"Governor Callahan: My crew and I will be more than willing to help you and your people, but first, it is imperative that we find a place to talk. Don't panic, but you're in a lot more trouble than you originally thought."

-MV-

It was late at night, and for the seventh day in a row, John took to his usual post at the top of the town's watchtower; Captain Percival and Christopher Turk on either side of him.

After bringing the auburn haired pirate to his household, Governor Callahan had listened much more carefully to the Captain's full story. It had grieved him terribly to hear of the many deceased towns, especially when he realized why the villages he had sent letters for help to never responded… However, after listening to his plan (and admittedly asking to see Governor Corman's seal of approval for a bit of extra reassurance) the Governor had allowed both Percival and his crew to spend as much time as they needed at their humble but beaten abode.

"The plan," Percival had explained to his crew after going over it with the Governor, "Is to stay here until the Ghost Ship arrives. We are to stay up every night – yes, Lonnie every night, all night – until the Ghost Ship comes to rob these people blind."

"But didn't you say we'd be tending to Callahan's people during the day? I'm not complaining about helping them, but the Ghost Ship is clearly a force to be reckoned with. You can't possibly expect us to work all day, the way we would have back home, and still have enough energy to face these monsters head on with little to no sleep under our belts, do you?"

"No, Lonnie, I don't. That's why we're all going to work in shifts during the day, and guess what, ladies? All time spent off will be time spent sleeping. We can't have you in need of your beauty sleep when the Ghost Ship arrives now, can we?"

"Okay, but what if the Ghost Ship –"

A sudden whack to the head shut Lonnie up instantly, his attacker a man who was the second most intimidating from the Sacred Heart. "If you complain one more time, I'm going to beat you with poppy's old shilling sock."

Lonnie shot the Captain a look of begrudging apology, to which the older man nodded to the Big Guy who had hit him. "That'll do it," he commented. "Now all of you go on board and run – I repeat, run – to the hold. Carry as many crates of medicine and food as you can. These people are in need of some serious assistance."

That had been a week ago, and while it was great to see Callahan's people doing better, Jonathan knew that the Captain was getting anxious when it came to waiting for the Ghost Ship. While he himself wanted to prolong the battle as much as possible, the Captain's grip on his sword was becoming tighter and tighter with each passing day, his need to capture the venomous crew at the forefront of his mind.

"Sometimes I worry that we'll miss them."

The comment was spoken by Turk, whose reflective tone of voice broke the silence that lingered between the three pirates.

"I do too," the Captain answered in a rare act of admission. "They can't just not be seen simply in that they strike at night. There has to be a certain strategy to it all."

"I wish there was a way of knowing; a sign that they were close by."

Jonathan didn't know why the memory hit him the way it did then. For as much as he worried about Jack's connection to the Ghost Ship, he had never given his departure anymore thought after it had actually happened. But now… "Bells," he said suddenly, eyes concentrating hard on the darkened sea ahead.

"Come again there, Newbie?"

"Bells. Listen for the sound of bells."

The Captain, who had been getting ready to ask why, realized upon opening his mouth that he ought to keep it closed. He didn't have to ask to know it had something to do with Jack, and considering the topic of his blood-related son hadn't come up since last week's storm, the older man decided to save the conversation for another time. He'd tell the kid when things calmed down, but right now, they needed to keep a sharp look out for the Ghost Ship.

John peered over at his father, surprised that he had not been questioned on the topic further. While Turk was looking genuinely confused, the Captain seemed almost…troubled by the suggestion. Wanting to comfort him but not really knowing how, John decided not to press the matter further. After all, it would make no sense for the Ghost Ship to sound any kind of alarm upon coming towards a town. Still, now that the memory was replaying itself in his head, he couldn't help but suspect that those bells had something to do with the Ghost Ship's hidden strategy.

Wishing more than ever that Ben was around to share his opinion on the matter, John was thrown off guard when the Captain all but sprang to his feet, back having been pressed leniently against the wall of the watchtower. "There," he breathed shakily, the adrenaline rush pouring from every fiber of his being. "It's there."

Jonathan stepped on the surrounding rail, hoisting himself up to get a better look at the ember colored horizon. None of them had any idea what the Ghost Ship was supposed to look like, but if this vessel was not the one they were after, then John's name wasn't, well…John.

While it wasn't what he had expected with a name like "The Ghost Ship" in terms of its haunting appearance, the vessel was undeniably huge. Its ability to hold a multitude of treasures, minus what was undoubtedly a massive cargo hold, was more than just a little apparent.

The realization that the monstrous vessel was finally in their line of vision started to really settle in on the thirteen-year-old pirate. His flesh erupted into goose bumps as he watched the beast grow closer; the inevitable battle he had been preparing for, for weeks now making him feel like he wasn't prepared at all.

Jonathan looked up towards Captain Percival, whose spyglass was now pressed firmly against his eye. Both he and Turk waited with baited breath; preparing themselves for the Captain's go-ahead to climb down the watchtower in order to meet the rest of the crew. In no way shape or form did they expect the next two words that came out of his mouth instead.

"They stopped."

The brunet could feel his forehead crinkle in confusion, hoping that myth about getting wrinkles early wasn't true. "They stopped?"

Percival quietly handed the spyglass over to Christopher, who, after examining the vessel for himself, handed it over to Jonathan.

It was true. They were close enough to make out the figurehead, but they certainly weren't close enough to successfully make port. What on earth were they doing? It wasn't until John noticed some movement on both sides of the ship did he realize what, exactly, they were up to. "Long boats!" he practically shouted.

The Captain snatched the spyglass back immediately, his knuckles turning white against the instrument.

The lad was right. Long boats, very large long boats, were being lowered into the ocean one by one. What made the whole thing stranger was the sight of only one pirate taking to each individual boat. Now why would that be? No, Percival knew the answer. Those boats were not just a means of transportation, but storage devices. Having one pirate per boat meant even more boats for carrying back plunder, not to mention more room in the long boat itself for various treasure. And of course they were going to use those to make land rather than the vessel itself. Making port was not a quiet task. Someone somewhere in the village would have heard a crew that large docking, but a herd of boats slowly but silently tying their boats to the pier? Not so much.

It wasn't until they started sailing towards them – the sight of twenty or so long boats spread out in the shape of a "V" – did Percival notice the tip of said letter at the front; it's boat the only one with two passengers.

One of those pirates was rowing, while the other stood at the front of the vessel; back up straight and head held high.

Their Captain.

He only needed to see the silhouette – the tricorn hat; the long, windblown coat – to know that said pirate was the leader of them all.

"They're coming," he said matter-of-factly, shoving the spyglass into his pocket as he headed for the watchtower's ladder. "Time for battle."

Turk nodded immediately, the fire in his eyes matching the strong determination that dwelled in Percival's stare. Jonathan nodded too, doing his best to mimic the raw courage he saw in both men, but not at all feeling it himself.

It'll be okay, he told himself quietly. You're ready for this. You've trained hard; you've gotten better.

You don't understand: I'm more scared for the others than I am for myself.

Are you actually saying you're stronger than them?

What? No! But that's…that's exactly why I'm worried.

What do you mean?

Because the last big battle we were in…

Yes?

Someone died.

Yes…

Ben died.

I know…

And Ben was undoubtedly stronger than me.

Yes.

I can't lose anyone else.

I know…

I can't lose my family.

I know.

I can't lose the Captain.

I know…

Now at the edge of the town's dock, he and the rest of the crew – who had gathered together by the pier upon seeing their Captain's signal – hid themselves where it was the Captain indicated. All of the Sacred Heart was to hide somewhere near the town's edge; somewhere in which they could see both the water and the sight of their leader, who would nod to them when the moment was right. That moment, of course, was whenthe crew of the Ghost Ship was entirely on land. Only then would they come out from all different directions; throwing them off guard and capturing them for good.

John tried not to tremble as his hand hovered over his sword, eyes glued to his Captain for that final and life changing signal.

Having successfully tied their longboats to the pier, the Ghost Ship's silhouettes walked silently towards where they stood hiding, completely unaware of their presence.

And there it was.

The Sacred Heart's crew came at them with a thunderous roar, Captain Percival at the head of his men. While the crew of the Ghost Ship was visibly surprised, their swords went up in perfect unison; the lot of them clearly having been trained for an attack.

Jonathan, who had scanned the crew upon seeing them get closer, had already targeted the one closest to his height. He had ignored the little voice at the back of his head; it's insistence on him not really caring who would be easier to fight not at all why he chose who he chose…

Letting the rush of the now-or-never battle outweigh his nerves, Jonathan shouted at them too, his sword clashing against the pirate he had targeted before anyone else.

A rush of blonde hair; a shock of blue eyes.

"Jonathan?"

Question answered.

The two pirates stared at one another, dumbfounded. Yes, even though he had known – even though he had picked him out specifically – the sight of his worry turning abruptly into reality left the teen nothing short of speechless.

Muscles still tense at what he assumed would be a heart wrenching battle – what with having to go up against someone he thought he could befriend – the brunet was surprised when the blonde lowered his sword, his look of bewilderment still very much in place. "Are you insane? Seriously, kid, what are you doing here? God in heaven, I don't want to fight you, but –"

"Then don't! Listen, Jack –"

"Jack?"

Percival, whose sword had just knocked out yet another raging cutthroat, was now facing the two of them breathlessly; the shock on his expression visible even in the dark.

What was also suddenly visible was the lurking shadow that came up behind him; the outline of a tricorn hat making its way closer and closer to his father's thrown off stance.

"CAPTAIN!"

Percival followed John's outstretched hand, his finger having pointed hurriedly to the pirate coming closer. As though he had never been distracted in the first place, John watched as his father turned around in one, flawless motion, his sword crashing against his attacker's outstretched weapon.

He had expected a fight; had expected a scene that he and the rest of the Sacred Heart would talk about victoriously for months. What he didn't expect was for Percival to stop moving all together; his sword pressed against his attacker's in a stance so still, they could have been made of marble.

Through the chaos of the battle and the night's bone chilling air, a question left the lips of one Percival Ulysses Cox; a question so shocked, so mortified, that John would have thought the Ghost Ship much deadlier than ever they expected.

"Jordan?"

A/N: Until next time.