Killian spent the rest of the day scrubbing down the deck and trying his best to keep out of trouble. If he did something stupid after his conversation with Liam just this morning, his brother would be angry, as well as disappointed. That was a combination that Killian did not want to deal with.

Which made it that much worse when the master-at-arms called him partway through the day, jerking him from his thoughts and immediately sending a wave of fear through him. What the hell had he done this time?

"Coming, sir." The words held a good deal of fear and Killian forced himself to swallow back the emotion, to keep himself from looking weak. He hadn't done anything, so he wasn't about to go into this conversation looking guilty.

Gills, the ship's master-at-arms, was speaking to another sailor when Killian arrived at the ship's helm. Shifting his weight back and forth, Killian eyed the man's back as he stood waiting. Most days, he managed to get through his work unnoticed. When he was noticed, it was rarely for anything pleasant. Which meant immediate nerves whenever he was called on for anything.

After what seemed forever, Gills turned around and spotted him.

"What the hell are ye just standing there fer, boy? Git on with yer work."

Killian's eyes narrowed immediately at the rebuke, and he had to swallow back his annoyance. "You called for me, sir," he managed to get out.

Gills looked confused at the comment, clearly having forgotten why it was that he had called for him in the first place. Which was probably good. If he'd planned to punish him for something, he would have remembered.

"Aye, right," the man finally said. "We should be making port this evening. Taking on new crew members and reloading the ship. Yer to help with whatever they need, understood?"

Killian blew out a short breath. He already worked from early in the morning until evening, and the prospect of helping the night crew was not a pleasant one. But, again, he managed to swallow back the frustration. He didn't want to be switched to the night shift on a more permanent basis, so he knew better than to talk back.

"Understood, sir," he responded meekly, nodding at the older man.

Gills waved him away without another word, and Killian turned back to his rags and water bucket. Internally, he was raging. Externally, he was...only somewhat more composed. His conversation with Liam only this morning had already riled him, and being forced to work a longer day was only another thing to add to his list.

They'd spent three years on this ship already. Three years. Three years of working from morning until evening, without a break. The only time he'd been allowed a rest was when he'd caught some flu and hadn't been able to move. Even then, they'd forced him from his cot the moment he showed signs of recovery and had punished his inability to immediately keep up.

Afterwards, Liam told him that he'd worried Killian might die from his illness. He'd said that a beating was better than that, at least. Killian's first thought was that he wished he had died, and he'd told Liam as much. The look on his brother's face had been enough to shut him up; he didn't know that he'd ever seen Liam look so utterly horrified.

"Don't you ever say that again, Killian. Don't you even think it," Liam had spoken the words so earnestly, so desperately, that they shocked Killian into silence. He'd meant them, but he hadn't expected the sentiment to affect his brother so deeply.

"I'm sorry," he'd mumbled back, unsure exactly how to feel about his brother's words. But the look in Liam's eyes let him know better than to push the subject. They'd sat there in silence for a long minute, before Liam had suddenly pulled him into a tight hug. Killian remembered stiffening for a moment, unsure of how to respond. But he hadn't fought it, hadn't pulled away.

After a long moment, Liam had released him. He'd eyed Killian in a more serious manner than ever before. "We will get out of this, Killian. We'll be free. I promise."

And Killian had believed him.

Though he often doubted the words now, he hadn't in that moment. He'd trusted his brother completely. He still did trust Liam completely, never doubted his brother's sincerity. But even at twelve, he understood that Liam's words were a desperate hope more than they were a sincere reality.

Once he'd finished with the entirety of the ship's decks, Killian went in search of both Liam and supper. In no particular order. When he couldn't immediately find his brother, he dished himself a bowl of the watery sludge being served and sat to eat. He was often assigned to help in the kitchen, so he knew exactly what might be in this and did his best not to think of it.

Killian had almost finished when he was jostled from behind and turned with a start.

"Eating without me?" Liam glared at Killian, but his tone betrayed him and Killian smirked.

"Here, you can have the rest," he teased back, handing Liam his almost empty bowl. To his surprise, Liam took it and downed the last few sips in a single swallow.

"You offered," Liam shrugged his shoulders and grinned cheekily at Killian, who crossed his arms in response.

"And you wouldn't be so quick to eat it if you knew what was in it."

Liam made a face at that, and sat down next to Killian. "We should be seeing land anytime. We're taking on a few new crew members and loading up, before heading out again in the morning." His brother worked alongside Captain Finch, who was getting on in years and trusted much of the administrative work to Liam. His brother told him often that he should be thankful that the captain tended to be hands off, as their situation could be far worse. But Killian didn't exactly think they had much to be thankful for.

"I know. I'm to help them."

His brother raised an eyebrow at that, and Killian felt the briefest bit of satisfaction. Liam knew everything, was never surprised. So, as foolish as it might be, Killian held tightly to the little parts of life that were his own.

"Well." The single word was his brother's only response for a long moment. When he spoke again, he seemed to have changed course. "Come right to bed when you're done. I don't want you on deck late. Again."

Killian bristled at the undeserved rebuke and turned away from his brother. But, recalling Liam's earlier lecture, he managed to keep himself from lashing out.

"I'll be fine. I'll come down when I'm done," he said simply.

Liam put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "If it's not too late, perhaps we can read another chapter."

At that, Killian immediately brightened. The one spark of light in his otherwise dreary days was the time spent reading with Liam. His brother had taught him to read when they were much younger, and now they read aloud to each other. They read anything they could get their hands on, but the best was when they managed to acquire a novel. Liam had come back with a copy of Frankenstein the last time he had been ashore, the worn book hidden beneath his coat. Neither of them knew if they would be in trouble for the hidden pile of books underneath their cot, so they kept it their little secret.

"Aye, Liam, I'll hurry down."

At that, Liam gave him a small smile and Killian returned it. The promise might actually be enough to get him through working late with a not entirely abysmal attitude.

"I'm going to eat, but I'll see you tonight. Wake me if I'm asleep when you come in." With that, Liam turned to head down to the galley and Killian was left alone. He leaned back against the side of the ship and stared up at the sky, only the faintest tendrils of light still present against the dark background. He hoped they made port soon and could stock up quickly. He was already exhausted.

"Boy, come help me prepare for landing," Deyon, one of the older crew members, yelled at him from across the ship. Killian rose quickly and went to help him, almost thankful for the distraction. He wasn't sure he would have managed to stay awake, sitting against the ship's railing. Now, he busied himself with piling empty crates on the deck, to be refilled and replaced when they reached shore. Tried to keep his mind on his work, as much as possible.

Having been a slave since he was nine, he didn't have much to miss, which was for the best. He had Liam, and he told himself he should be thankful. He could be alone. He could have been taken from his family, could be spending his days desperate to get back to them. At least he had Liam. This way, he could try and pretend that this was normal. That this was just the way life was.

It wasn't easy, but it was worse when he let himself wish for anything more. When he let himself think about how life had been before his mother had died, before his father had started leaving for long periods of time and had stopped caring for his children. Killian hadn't realized, then, that father's should be any different. He'd looked up to his father, loved him more than anything in the entire world, save Liam.

Now, he hated him. It had taken months for him to truly come to terms with what had happened. Liam had understood from the beginning, but Killian couldn't believe that his father would leave them voluntarily. When it had finally settled in on him, he'd completely broken down. Had felt a kind of deep, dark anger that he hadn't understood. He lashed out at everything and everyone, and the captain had finally threatened to sell him off if he didn't start behaving.

Liam had helped him learn to control it, the anger. To come up on deck and breathe in time with the waves that rocked the ship. But he still couldn't think of his father without the familiar hatred rising up in him. So he didn't think of it, didn't think of anything besides the here and now. Besides his work. Besides Liam.

His brother kept him alive, he knew as much. He wouldn't be able to handle this life, this treatment, without the little bit of hope that Liam gave him. Just his brother's presence was enough to make him fight to stay alive. Even if he often found himself thinking death would be a better alternative to slavery.

Or servitude, as Liam called it. Because, technically, they were paid. But the pay was so little that it would be an eternity before they could manage to pay off their indentures.

The call of land being sighted shook Killian from his thoughts, which was for the best. He'd need to climb the rigging to prepare the sails for docking, and he needed all his wits about him for that.

Soon the day would be over, he told himself.

Soon.

It was a depressing thought to cling to, to start every day looking forward only to its end. But such was life.

And, as Liam often said, he should be thankful. It could be worse.