Harry almost stumbles into the wall as he leans the broom he'd been holding against it. He is lucky he's the only one in the hold, there is no way he could blame his lack of footing on the swaying tide, the water is flat.

With aching muscles, he reaches down to pick up the dust tray and tips it out the porthole. His headache spikes as he taps it on the side of the frame to get most of the dust off it before bringing it back through the window. After slowly turning around, he leans his back against the wall and slides down to the floor.

He's so tired.

Above him he can hear his father's crew working about the deck, lowering sails and fixing floorboards. They're hard at work and he knows he should be too but he'll just give himself time to rest for a few seconds, and then he'll get back into it.

His peace alone doesn't last as long as he'd hoped, the echo of boots clomping down the hallway towards him sounding soon after he shut his eyes. As the steps come closer, he slowly moves to sit up straight, getting ready to push himself back up to his feet. Though at the sight of his sister he sighs and leans back again, "just give me a minute."

Harriet huffs and loops both her thumbs behind her belt, "I can give you more than a minute if you'd stop being so stubborn."

"It's not your minute to give."

Harriet scowls at him, but it isn't his fault that he's right. She isn't in control of their father's ship. On her own vessel Harry would have been sent straight back to bed before the day had even begun.

"There're plenty of people on the crew, you won't be missed."

"I won't be, but he'll know if I'm gone" Harry's voice stutters out at the end into a short fit of chesty coughs, which he does his best to muffle into the crook of his arm. When he gets his breath back, he lowers his arm and uses it to prop his head up against his legs. His hand feels cold against his skin and he closes his eyes in both exhaustion and the inevitability he is developing a fever.

"Why don't you just let yourself pass out? You look like you're almost there" Harriet means to tease him but her tone comes out far more sympathetic than she means for it to.

He weakly shakes his head, opening his eyes to look at her.

"Harry, come on" she begs for him to give in.

He only shakes his head again before turning to the side to clear his throat into his fist, then pushes himself up off the floor.

Harriet closes her eyes in exasperation as he moves to retrieve the broom off the wall before making his way up to the deck. "Harry, just – please" she begs as she follows behind him.

"Day's almost done, Harriet" he tells her with a slight edge to his voice.

"The day is done when the work is done. You know that!"

"Best keep working then" Harry concludes as he steps up onto the deck.

"That's your solution? You're being an arsehole, Harry!" the raising of her voice draws a few eyes as she steps onto the deck behind him, including those of Mr Smee.

"I'm just doing what I've been told, last time I checked that wasn't being an arsehole" Harry says, pointing the end of the broom at her before beginning to sweep the deck. At his words most of the crew get back to work, the two siblings fighting wasn't an uncommon occurrence.

"And while I'm being helpful, what are you supposed to be doing? Because I can sure as hell bet you that it's not following me around."

Harry made the mistake of putting too much passion into his last sentence and it sets him off coughing again. Shielding the deep sounds that rumble out of his chest into his arm, his other hand gripping the handle of the broom for stability. Eyes from around the crew are drawn back to him, even with them being villains there is no doubt in their minds that he is to ill for work. And it is this sentiment that has Smee abandoning his tasks at the sail and making his way over to him.

"That's quite a cough you've got going there, lad."

As exhausted as he is, Harry only nods to him before resuming sweeping at the boards of the deck.

"I think it's time you turned in. Give the broom to your sister." At the reigning first mate's words Harriet visibly relaxes, holding her hand out for the broom in waiting.

Though Harry remains holding onto it. "But dad…"

"Your father has gone off to the market" Smee tells him. "As first mate the ship is currently under my control. You are familiar with that rule from your own crew, yes?"

Harry nods well aware of the fact, though he still looks hesitant and doesn't make a move to leave.

Knowing why Smee tells him, "you've already shown your quality in lasting as long as you have. It's high time you got some rest." He offers him a fond smile before turning to Harriet, "see to it that he gets there, love."

Harriet had looked visibly sad when she'd had to wake Harry, letting him know that their father wanted to see him in his Captain's quarters. He'd barely had the energy to shove his feet in his boots and pull his coat back on, feeling worse than he had before he'd gone to sleep.

His body shakes, but not in fear, as he stands in front of his father trying to explain why he had been missing from the working crew when he had returned to the ship.

"… as first mate he is permitted to make decisions on your behalf when you are absent" Harry says of Smee who stands by the doorway. He is envious of his position, much rather preferring to be in the place of first mate on his own ship.

"And why were you to not return after I arrived back?" his father asks him.

He doesn't have time to answer that he didn't know he had come back, seeing he was asleep, before an itch in his nose overwhelms him. With a heavy intake of breath, he pivots away from his father at his desk into his elbow. "Kt'CHhh… ihht'SHHhih… ih'tCHH."

It takes him a few moments in his tired state to regain his place. He sniffles forcefully into his sleeve, not caring about bad manners, before beginning "I was unaware of y" – he cuts himself off as his father interrupts.

"Speak clearly, boy!"

Harry closes his eyes in misery as he sniffles again, grimacing slightly as he swallows back congestion that had impaired his voice. "This is as clear as I can get it" Harry tells him, his voice still sounding garbled through congestion. Though the effort of trying to announciate his words puts pressure on his throat and has him muffling coughs into his arm.

"Cap'n, if I may" Smee cuts in, stepping forward even before Harry had gotten his breath back. "The young lad is clearly unwell. I thought it was in the best interest of the crew to have him return to bed, lest we risk an epidemic. I was hoping you would think the same."

The Captain hums in consideration seeming to agree with his first mate, "yes, I see that. Very well."

Next to him Harry feels Smee relax at his Captain's agreeance.

"Though the lost work shall not go unpaid" Hook says to his son. "You will take up four extra shifts at the shop as soon as you are recovered, no later."

Harry nods to show he understands.

His father being one for dramatics makes a show of stacking papers on his desk although he never wrote on any of them, "dismissed!"

Harry nods his head to his father as a sign of politeness before walking out the door Smee holds open for him.

As he sets off down the hallway, he releases another bought of coughs into his elbow as he walks, pitching forward slightly. He turns around when he feels a hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry my dear boy. I hoped better for you" the older man's eyes are sad.

Harry shakes his head at his expression, trying to muster up as much of a smile as he can give him. "Thank you" he dismisses his statement. "It's the best I could have hoped for."