Dylan's shout is punctuated by a war cry from several people on his ship, which automatically puts all of us into a state of confusion and slight panic. Clashes resound from across the water, swords? But from who? Iggy? Are they okay?

There is but a second of decision making as Fang leaps over the boards, onto the ship, sword in hand. I follow immediately.

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Hey there guys! I am back, with a Christmas/New-Year chapter for y'all! I hope you have a wonderful holidays!

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I know there must be more than just Dylan, with the multiple cries that seem to emerge out of the darkness. We're almost completely blind, hardly able to see except for the acquired night vision. Which is absolutely brilliant, of course. Fang is charging, I'm charging. Although, still not entirely sure where I am meant to be going. Across the plank, I got that far. Heading towards a cry of outrage, yep. But then deciding who is on our side, and who is Dylan's? That is a slightly more complex.

How am I supposed to know who is who? At least Iggy is essentially reflective with his bright hair. While Fang is basically a moving shadow. No need to attack one of those.

Out of nowhere, a sword slices across my vision, whistling through the air, barely a hair's breadth away from my nose. I turn around quickly, sword raised in retaliation. I can't see the man's face, but I am just assuming that they are definitely not on my side. What else can I do but attack? I think back to that 'sword-fighting lesson' Fang gave, all that time ago. Leaping from rope and mast and to the ends of the ship, and the nonchalance of the crew after all the drama. As if it were a normal affair.

My sword slashes in front of his chest, but he leaps back. I swing up, missing again.

Come on Max, you can do better than this

I know, I know!

The man laughs. Sexist pig.

I swing a huge arch and cut down his arm, forcing him to drop the sword in his hand. Ha! Damn right. He shuffles away, and I move forward, slashing through the air again, feeling all too powerful. I know it's too soon to feel so, especially when he pushes his shoulder into my hips, knocking me down in a tackle, wrenching his own blade from the deck. He holds up the sword, prepared to swipe, projecting the path into my chest. I roll away in time, then rolling over backwards to jump up and stand on my feet again. My assailant looks surprised in my adjusting eyes, but swirls his sword in a circle anyway, trying to be intimidating.

Almost immediately, he cuts back, but I'm ready for him, greeting with a clash of my own blade instead of my skin. Vibrations almost force me to drop it, but I hold steady, awaiting the next part of the attack. Swing, swing, and I'm deflecting over and over, catching up to his moves. I have to get ahead, otherwise I'm going to get tired. I need to be on the offence.

I step sideways as he attacks again, and get a jab to his leg, knocking his footing for a few seconds, giving me time to knock the blade from his hand again.

This can't continue for much longer...

You have to kill him

I'm not sure where the last thought comes from, but I instantly know it's true. I can't keep fighting forever. He would kill me, so I have to do it first, don't I? But it's not that I want to. I don't want to, not at all. I don't want to die though. That would be ridiculously disappointing. And I can tell that this adventure isn't over yet. Not for me; not for any of us.

The guy slices into my leg this time, leaving me to cuss and stumble. Crap, crap, crap. It can't happen like this! I shout in vain, swinging my sword, hoping for purchase. Nothing. Crap, crap, crap. I try again, still nothing.

Don't lose it now, Maxie

Okay, focus up

Trying voraciously to ignore the stabbing pain in my leg (see what I did there? Stabbing. Ha.) and stay flat-footed, glaring at my opponent. Right. Focus. My grip on the sword trembles momentarily, but then I am steady. Calm. Panicking, but yeah totally calm as hell.

Arching through the air, my blade makes a fantastic swishing noise, crashing down onto his own blade. He doesn't notice my open position, but instead clashes with me. Good. It means he either can't see, doesn't want to hurt me, or is not as focused as I am trying to be. Good. Good stuff. I make another attempt, bringing the sword around to clash against his left hand side, meeting his blade again. He's fast.

Three more clashes. A shuffle from him. Another clash, putting him off balance. I'm on a roll.

One more. I kick out, seeing his sword arm fly out from him in panic of falling over. He tumbles. I stab his leg for good measure. I don't feel half as bad as I expected, suddenly noticing the bleeding on my leg. And the pain. Christ, yeah that really does hurt. Okay, try not to think about it. Good note. Fortunately, my shoulder is not really so bad at the moment. So there's that.

The man struggles on the floor, barely able to reach his sword. Hardly able to move.

I move onto the next man. Taking out legs. Knocking aside arms. Fighting my way through what seems to be an entire crew, but still feeling more powerful after striking each blow. Who knew I'd get such a rush? It's like practice, but... Not. Shouts resonate across the ship, ricocheting in the darkness, in uncertain paths. I force my way through the people, cutting across the deck, not totally sure of my destination.

"Get off, you bastard!" Iggy shouts from several steps away. My right? Or was it left? Oh whatever, stumble in the direction, and go in swinging!

Terrible idea! You could hit Iggy

Dammit. That's true

Curse my remarkable inner voice. Why do I even bother at all?

Iggy shouts again and I half-jog toward the voice, my sword raised, but sensibly not swinging until I know who is who. I determine the bright red hair, more visible in what light remains, and push away the other male, taking him down by his hips. A full on tackle, good start. Bloody painful on my shoulder though. Sharp pain stabs at my head, where I've been hit - apparently by this new guy. I kick out, aiming for any kind of hit I can get. It takes several seconds before I find a shin or a calf - not entirely sure. But I kick.

"Oi!" Iggy yells.

Oops. Haha.

"Sorry, Ig!" I shout back, feeling lead in my stomach. Where's the other guy then?

Smack!

Yeah, alright. He's... There! Oh crap, that hurt. No more sitting out the last bits of a fight though, Maxie. You've been hit, so get up. Get up and fight. Be a man! Get up. Get up and fight! This is much harder than they make it seem. My head throbs like it's been hit by a hammer. Keep moving, Max. Get up. I push my hand flat against the deck, steadying myself. Sword in the other hand, waiting for instruction. I can do this. Get up and fight.

I can hear the man laughing. Iggy decks him, and he grabs my hand when it fails to hold me from face-planting.

"Come on, Max. Not many left." He hauls me up to beside him. My leg aches. My head aches. My arms are sore. But I'm keeping on. I have to keep fighting. I will not be knocked down this time. I am fighting, as part of the crew. Not apart from it.

Iggy and I look at each other for a moment. He's fuzzy, and he's mumbling something I can't quite hear. But that's okay. I can get the gist of it. We fight together. We can do it. We will fight together. And other invigorating things like that. He lets go of my hand. I stumble very slightly. It's okay, I'm okay. Pull yourself together, Max.

"Okay, I breathe." It shuffles from my lips as a slur. Keep moving. Fight beside Iggy. Let's go.

Come on, Max. Don't think about the pain

Then don't remind me, jackass!

"Alright?" Iggy asks. I nod, not really caring that his face is blurred slightly in the darkness and by my increasing wooziness. I'll be fine. Iggy moves forward to the next man, me following in his wake, sword raised shakily in one hand. We come at them from both sides; Iggy slashing purposefully, and me hitting where I can - where my mind can focus. But I'm good. I make the hits. I take the shots. And the crew falls, one by one.

Our side has seemed to propel themselves through the fight, bringing down most of Dylan's men. Causing wounds, and the red to seep from them across the deck. Great. That will take some clearing up. Fang is directing some of his crew across the other side of the deck, demanding ropes and speaking to Dylan through his bloodied lips. I vaguely wonder whether they actually fought, or danced around their issues again, and then I wonder what their issues are. Because no one has told me yet.

I'm not bitter about it, because I know I shouldn't be. It might bother me even less if Dylan was taking his psycho revenge on me. That would be real nice.

Oh well!

Fang drags Sam over to tie up the remaining crew members - those who are actually able to move at all. Their weapons are taken away. Good. They can't harm anyone. Lanterns are lit, casting great shadows from the crew. I watch quietly as Fang moves about them, sussing out the other crew. Kicking hands out of the way. I can't see Dylan amongst them. My heartbeat is racing. Crap, I do not feel so good right now.

Chill, Max

Don't tell me what to do!

Okay, so hostile to my own voice in my head. That's a good sign, right? Ha.

"What's the plan?" Iggy asks Fang as he moves towards us, frowning, clearly bothered by something. Either Iggy doesn't pick up on it, or chooses not to mention it - we all know he can become a bit of a Captain Crazy-Pants. If it's the latter, a great choice by Iggy.

"We need to go recuperate. So we take them to the nearest possible island, sort out the ship, and leave them." Iggy nods at this, seeming to approve. I don't fully understand just yet. "Dylan and I can have a little chat."

"Nudge," I murmur, without thinking. Fang and Iggy glance at me, but I shake my head. I catch Iggy's eyes and give him a 'look'. Nudge remembers something, I try to tell him. Unfortunately, words don't come out of my eyes by looks. Just my luck. "So what about the other ship? And Dylan's wrongdoings? Won't he be a further problem?"

Dylan will be a problem for many reasons. For one, there is definite issues between him and Fang. Something bad went down, and that problem just isn't going to go away in a flash. A second thing is that Dylan hurt Nudge. That's not okay. The third reason being he knows something about whatever is going on with that picture. He knows something about Fang's father, and he wants... What? Revenge? For the way he was treated? I guess that's fair enough. I would be vengeful if I had been trapped in a cupboard for several weeks. Then again, what did Dylan do?

"Dylan will always be a problem," Fang states darkly. Helpful.

"What did he -?" My words, of course, are cut off by Sam. They found an island. We're heading there now. Iggy takes the Marauder, and Fang will take the Knave. And I will just wait this out, until I can get my question answered. Kinda feels like I'm in my very own no-man's land.

The two ships struggle to the island, creaking in the effort to hack through the stronger winds. Candles barely manage to stay alight, and I am barely managing to stay awake, let alone have any kind of focus. I was given some water by Ella and told to sit quietly. Honestly, that made me mad for a minute. The kind of mad where you want to shout at everything and say that you're perfectly okay and capable, when really your insides are throwing up themselves. I feel better.

We crunch steadily onto the sandy shore, bringing the whole of our crew onto the island. Dylan's crew are fed nothing, stuck in the brig of the Knave. Sort of makes me wonder why Dylan wasn't in the brig, rather than the dingy linen room. It takes several minutes to settle us on the beach, with rough blankets lain on the shores, far enough away from where high tide will fall, the ships tied in between trees. Fang discusses plans with the carpenter, and more plans with Iggy. I don't actively try to involve myself - just big myself up for the talk about Dylan; the talk with Fang.

Apparently both ships are damaged in some way, and there are plans to take both ships with us when we leave, which would totally strand Dylan and his gang. So I sit by the trees a little longer, drawing swirling patterns into the dampened sand. Waiting. Not fully feeling quite a part of it at the moment.

The air is a little calmer on the shore. My legs feel like they've been running for a very long time and I can't quite muster much strength to move very far. Just to pick up pebbles and throw them back to the sea when she hurls them onto the sand. My hair doesn't whip about me so much here. Single strands bristle in the chill, but there is less of a forceful wind, less rain, much more gentile atmosphere. Even the shadows cast by firelight are less aggressive.

Who knew I was so damn exhausted?

Sam approaches me very briefly to hand me a biscuit and some berries he says are safe. I don't talk to him, but I eat the biscuit - not the berries. I know the biscuit is safe, because Iggy makes them.

I am fairly certain the noise of the sea is making me even more tired. Back, and forth. Back, and forth. Back, and forth. Like rocking a baby, accompanied by the soft lullaby of voices and gentle firelight a little way away from me. I'm not sure I want to fall asleep. There must be something important that I have to think about. Isn't there? About Fang?

"Max."

Talk of the devil and he shall come.

"Hmm?" I ask, looking up at him. It reminds me of so many times before this. Him shrouded by the flickering orange glow, and becoming an almost complete silhouette. Made to look taller by the stretching shadow that precedes him. I can't tell his mood by his voice, and I can't see his face. "What's up?"

"Are you okay?"

I nod and mumble my assent, drawing more swirling patterns into the sand. The sea washes a fraction of them away. Maybe I should be moving away from the ocean myself and further toward the camp.

"Max?"

"Huh?" I look up. Oh, right. Fang. Oops, forgot about him for a moment there.

"Are you okay?" He squats and the light around him falls just a little, so I can just about see his face. I nod again and scrunch my face, trying to work out his expression. His hair falls unceremoniously into his eyes and I move my sandy stick to push it away. For some reason he doesn't stop me, and ends up with grains of sand covering his forehead and sticking to his eyebrows and fringe. I don't know whether he is smiling or if he's mad.

"What happened between you and Dylan?" I ask again, my stick back to it's patterns. Fang sighs heavily and is quiet for a moment. In the background I can just about hear the mumbling faraway voices of the rest of the crew, chatting about the day, and planning the morning work for the ships. I wonder whether Iggy has spoken to Nudge, or whether he will wait for me too. We seem to be invested in it together, now. Having found her together.

"It's... Complicated."

"Sounds like you were in love and he broke your heart," I mutter, half-joking.

"Not quite," Fang laughs. It's strange to hear. New. Different. I like it.

"Tell me, please." I pause in my patterns to really look at him. To tell him, with my eyes - again - that I can be trusted. That this is between us. That I want to know, so that I can be in this with him, through to the end. That this is a partnership. All that crap.

I shuffle sideways on my small log to allow him space to sit beside me on it. The light is different again. His face is half covered with the orange glow from the fire, and a little silver from the moon which so recently reappeared. He doesn't speak for several moments, setting the story straight in his head. I know the feeling, so I wait for him. I watch the patterns dance across his features, outlining the sharpness of his nose and his jaw, and the round chin, and curves forehead. The impressions life has made upon his face, with scarring and bruising and beaten. More prominent than ever in our moment of quiet.

"Dylan and I were friends for a long time," Fang begins at last. "We met at the home. It was kind of like a place where kids who either had no parents, or parents that were gone a lot went. So, my father being in the navy. Nudge's father being the same. Dylan and Iggy are orphans, though. But that's irrelevant." He glances toward the tall strawberry-blonde haired male by the fire, conducting the meal and the conversation. "We were all very close. My father came back once a year to restock his ship. Then, one year, he didn't. I was worried. There were rumours that the navy ship had been overtaken by pirates, and that all were dead."

"I'm sorry," I say.

"Of course, I wasn't going to be left in that kind of conundrum. I had to know." I nod. He continues. "We all decided to leave the home, together as friends. There was myself, Iggy, Dylan, Nudge, Ella, Angel, Gazzy, and this other girl; Lissa. Lissa was friends with Ella, who also lived outside of the home, with good parents. Lissa and Ella spent a lot of time with us, and as Iggy got to know Ella, I... I knew Lissa."

Fang barely gives me a moment to process this admission before barrelling on.

"I'm the oldest, but not by much, and it was my mission. So I was made captain." I nod. Makes sense. He shivers involuntarily - but it's not from the cold. "Everything was great for a while. We knew we had to build up our way through the weird social hierarchy - to become the ultimately feared ship that we are today - so we would be allowed information given to us. We travelled for treasure and did bidding for others, and searched. And bits and pieces of information led me to the file that I hold to seek my father now."

He shakes his head in amusement.

I don't find anything to say in the moment of silence.

"I'm not sure how it happened, but Dylan decided that he didn't like that I got to find my father, but neither of his parents were alive. He thought it was unfair that I was getting a chance to escape being an orphan. He wanted to take other things away from me - to even it out, maybe. I'm not sure." Fang sighs again and runs a hand through his hair before placing it inside his pocket, firmly and resolutely. "Lissa... Lissa and I were exceptional. We were a team. I was so happy."

For some reason this makes my stomach sink. From jealousy or fear of what he will say next, I don't know.

"Dylan didn't like that, I'm guessing?" I ask, my voice shaking a little.

"Nope," Fang replies, popping the 'p'. "He resented people with parents, and anyone who had someone. He didn't see that he had us... Until he.. Well until he did what he did." It's another moment before Fang speaks again, swallowing and struggling through the story. I haven't heard him speak so much all at once, I guess this must be tricky for him. "He killed her." He closes his eyes. "He killed her, and made sure I knew it was him."

"How... Why...?" I barely get the words out. Fang merely shakes his head and sighs again. "I'm -"

"Don't," he says shortly. "It's got nothing to do with you."

Ouch.

"Okay," I mumble, going back to my stick in the sand, uncertain of what - if anything - to do next. What the heck can I even possibly say to that kind of thing? Does he expect me to just understand right away? Because I have so many questions, it feels. I have so much I want to say. Instead, I go for, "how long ago was this?"

"I don't know. Time is messed up. A year or two ago. Long enough." Fang rubs a hand over his face and glances back at the fire, flicking away at the dull blue skies of night, leaving that strange orange globe of hue around it. I'm not totally sure I want to know what he's thinking. I don't think we're those kind of people though, who say exactly what's on their mind in that sense. I don't know. I'm so tired. Then I remember something Dylan said. About love.

"Do you still love her?" I ask gingerly, totally afraid of the answer.

"I don't think so."

My stomach sinks a little, and it makes it very difficult to look at him all of a sudden. To look anywhere near him, to be completely honest. So I go for the safe option, and I stare at the sea, watching it rise and fall as my own feelings do.

"Max, let me explain that," he says gently, and I feel his hand on mine. The hand holding the stick, let me add. It's somewhat warm, but not pleasantly like a roaring fire. Just, a little sweaty, but certainly not massively unpleasant. So there's that. Fang brushes a hand against my cheek and I turn to look at him, despite my raging stomach and urge to throw many things into the sea. Including him. "Max, I don't love her in the same way. We fell out of love like that before it happened."

"What do you-"

"It's kind of complicated, again. Hard to explain properly." I frown. "She was drifting away from me as we spent more time on the ship, as I drifted from her. So I loved her in the same way I love my friends. Not at all like with you." He squeezes my hand and looks straight at me. "You have nothing to be worried about in that respect. She's in my past. I'm just horribly guilty." He shrugs and lets go of my hand, leaving it to feel cold and clammy.

"You have nothing to feel guilty for," I argue.

"Yeah, I do. I brought her with me. I brought Dylan. He just made a load of mess in all of this," Fang admits.

We talk some more, but not of love - which really does make my stomach clench when I even think the word now - and not of Dylan. A few times during the night, patrols change between the crew. Night slips away from us with great ease, dawn slowly coming closer, breaking that bright pink glow on the far horizon across the water. The fire is slowly crackling down as the sun comes up past the horizon in what must be the East; that band of light.

"I'm sorry for listening to your conversation with Nudge," I say, yawning, when the sun is halfway between the horizon and the sky. "Are you still angry?"

"Not anymore. It's okay, you couldn't have helped it." He sounds embarrassed, but I dare not say a thing. I would be embarrassed too, and that's okay. Fang lends me his jacket when I feel the chills of dawn, covering it over my legs.

"Despite all this craziness, I do like you," I tell him, playing with the frays of the coat sleeves. He smiles at me, then pulls me close for a moment, pressing a light kiss to my cheek. I would be lying if I said it didn't make me smile.

"You should get some sleep, while you can." I nod, yawning again. Not the time for niceties, I need rest. "And don't eat the berries."

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Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!