A/N: And for my loyal readers, don't worry about the title of this chapter. It just fit the subject matter. Catgirlulah, (I am still working on the spelling for your name. My spelling is awful, mind you!) I will be working on my spelling boo-boos soon. I am still bogged down with loads of goodies to read from that "Gryffindor Girls Group"! My! Folks like those naughty bits! Pei Pei, I will be reading your piece later on in the week, and I look forward to it. I always say the longer the chapters, the better the stories in most cases, but you are an excellent writer, and I feel most priviledged to have you reading this story.

Strangely enough, it is an irritation to me about using the line that Jack made about the Eunuch, but it worked so well in this chapter, that I had to do it. Well, Pintel hadn't used it before! That's a teaser for you guys!

Chapter 18: Thank you

Ragetti woke to find himself in his own bed with the pillow and other interesting accessories under his head and his body laid out in a peaceful way on his back. This came as a complete surprise to him. Not only did he not usually sleep in such a neat position with all limbs on the bed, but usually when he ended up unconscious on the floor, he usually did not wake up in a more comfortable place or someplace, that did not involve him fully clothed and his face not in a puddle of mud. He blinked his good eye and his empty eye socket. Realization struck him as he brought his right hand up to the irritated eye socket. Oh hell, he thought, he'd have to go through the search for that blasted mischievous eye again.

"It's safe," he heard a familiar female voice say, "I put it in your cup."

He would have contemplated this voice in a rather naughty sort of way, but other parts of his body demanded his attention. He squelched up his face, as he moved his left arm, and the pain of his wound shot through him. This was not going to be a good day. Delicate callused hands pulled his right hand away from prodding the bandages about his left shoulder. His full vision and awareness took in the room . . . his and Pintel's room. Marita sat in a chair by his bed. A smile softly crossed her unnaturally pale face. Her usual well kept dark hair hung in disarray about around her shoulders, and her eyes had dark circles about them. Pintel stood in the background. He was a bit ruffled, too, but he held a bottle of rum in one hand and was sharing a sandwich in a rather unwilling sort of way with Lucy. Suffice it to say, the man had just taken a bite out of the food and then dropped his clutching hand down at the sight of his waking companion. Lucy, having little concern for Ragetti at this time and sensing the other man was fine, had his priorities. He casually sniffed at the obtainable tidbit, then gently slipped the non-proffered food out of his companion's hand. The dog had spent too much time with the two pirates.

"'Bout time ye get yer lazy arse 'wake! Ye've been worryin' the ladies something awful!" he complained.

Marita continued to silently smile at him, as she stroked his confused face. He blinked his good eye. His head hurt like he had one hell of a good time the previous night, but he couldn't remember drinking so much. He remembered him and Pintel playing cards and drinking a few good mouthfuls of rum, since he was the one to win a couple of games. The gin was for the loser, and Pintel ended up with that one most of the time during the game. Finally, full memories flooded back to him in a horrific fashion.

"'Stella!" he cried out, as he jumped and tried to sit up.

His shoulder made a rude complaint, and there was a weight on him. He felt a small hand grasp his night shirt from his left side. A gasp of sleepy breath caught his ears. He looked down to see the sleeping pale red cheeked and red rimmed eyed child cuddled on his chest and under the sling about his left arm. Her ever present doll, Miss Alice, was clutched under her. A great burden was lifted from his soul as he stroked her golden brown hair from her sleeping face. The carefully tied bandage around his right forearm caught his attention, and he puzzled it. Was there another shot he didn't hear, or did the pistol shot go through his right arm as well as his shoulder. here was no sign of blood or bandaging on the child. His right arm did not hurt when he moved it. His brow furrowed with further confusion, as he looked to his companions for answers.

"She's fine thanks to you," Marita told him, "She didn't want to leave you. She was afraid that you would leave us even after the doctor declared that you would be fine. The shot went through you, and it didn't hit anything important."

"And I says that Nippie di'n't shoot ye in the 'ead, so 'ow's he not 'it anything not important. That left arm or yers be more useful and important than that 'ead of yers, boy, and I says that that doctor be a royal quack, if ye be askin' me!"

Marita turned on him with an icy stare. The man gave her a big grin, then his expression dropped as he felt the large soft wet tongue lapping at his now empty hand. He turned a vicious look at Lucy. The dog just sat down and panted happily.

"The doctor looked me o'er?" the younger pirate asked with a terrified tremble in his voice and a tightening around his throat. He clutched at his bandaged forearm with another amazing question mark on his face mixed with pain from his wounded shoulder. Estella made several disgruntled noises, but she continued to sleep.

"I told him that you had sustained some minor burns while helping me in the kitchen," the woman answered his terrified unasked question about his pirate brand. "He knows I know how to treat minor burns," she added dryly as she rubbed her wrists.

A sigh of relief flooded his body, and he felt that imaginary rope loosen from his neck.

"The mistress 'ere and me, we 'ad to drag yer dead weight in 'ere. Mate, ye really are goin' to 'ave to lay off them donuts and taste testin' the batter!" Pintel remarked, as he rubbed his lower back dramatically, "Then that Commodore feller showed up. Norry-butt, I think be 'is name . . ."

"Norrington," Marita coolly corrected him.

"Yeah, yeah," remarked the squat little man, as he waved a black and blue bruised arm towards her. "Any'ow, 'e came and asked all kinds of questions 'bout the fight and 'bouts us and that nasty littl' blood stain ye left on the floor out front. 'E insisted 'pon seein' ye." At these words, a smug smile crossed Pintel's lips, as the utter horror rose in his younger companion's eye. "'E di'n't know neither of us from Adam, boy. Marita 'ad already bandaged yer arm with the brand, and I 'ad stopped ye from bleedin' all o'er the place. It would ne'er do fer those treasures of yers, that ye keep in yer bed, to get all bloody, ye know," he added with a wink. Ragetti looked to Marita and gave her a nervous rotten tooth grin. With an effort, she remained passive. Pintel rambled happily on, "Anyways, ye be kind of a suspicious lookin' bugger with ye like goin' 'bout with loose sloppy clothes and bare feet and all. I told 'im that we came from that Italy place with all the canals, and ye used to steer one of those gondolly thingies. 'E weren't convinced and still wanted to check ye o'er right good 'til I told 'im that ye be one of those Eunuchs. 'E backed off right quick after that!"
"I ain't no Eunuch!" the one eyed man complained loudly with blazing red cheeks. Estella grasped him tighter and grumbled sweetly in her sleep.

"We know," Marita informed him with a disturbing knowing look. "Who do you think helped change you out of those bloody clothes and into that night shirt."

Ragetti self consciously drew his knees in tight. his face turned alarming shades of red, and it burned worse than when he got sunburned earlier that week. He made a mental note not to be unconscious in Marita's presence again.

"The Commodore sent one of his men to fetch the doctor. I guess Henry is good for something. I have never had to deal with shot wounds before, and he quickly assessed that the shot went straight through your shoulder, and for some reason, I didn't think that either one of you would know how to stop the bleeding or clean the wound. Henry proved me wrong." It was Pintel's turn to flush, as he looked down to his shuffling feet. The bakery mistress took in a deep breath and said, "And, well, . . . I wish to thank you both for your bravery."

"But I were scared witless! That ain't no bravery!" Ragetti complained, "I nearly filled me britches when they raised their pistols." He looked down and lowered his voice, "And I dropped mine without firin' it."

Marita gave him a soft laugh. She placed a hand on his good shoulder. "Bravery is not counted by the shots you fired or the men that you killed. You moved to save my child. You put your body in the way of the shot regardless of your fears. That is what bravery is all about, my dear Tony." His blue eye moved to meet her dark eyes. "So, I wish to thank you." She brushed a stray lock of wavy blonde hair from his face and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

A dazed look (a more dazed than usual) crossed his features, and against his recent mental notes and resolutions, he spent the rest of the night in a blissful state of unconsciousness with a jovial smile on his face. Oh well, he wasn't much of a mental person anyway, and besides, he couldn't read that mental note.

She shook her head and turned to the remaining pirate. Pintel was in the middle of a good hearty swig from the rum bottle. Their eyes met, and he sputtered and spewed the drink all over himself. The lack of anger towards him in those dark eyes confused the devil out of him. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

"What?" he growled.

"Henry," she said in that commanding voice, "Come here."

"What now, woman!" he demanded, as his bottle hung limply in his hand. Lucy's brow furrowed in concentration on how he could get to the rum inside. "I ain't done nuttin' . . . yet!"

"Come here," she repeated.

"What?" he continued to complain, as he stood defiantly in place.

"Come here, now!!" she insisted.

"Bloody woman!" he grumbled, as he approached her cautiously.

She stood up from her chair at Ragetti's bedside. She looked eye to eye with the rather lecherous ornery old pirate with spewed rum on his bruised face. The acrobats he tried to perform during the fight, like he was a man of half his age, had done some harm to him. It was only right to thank him. She bit her lip and swallowed down her resolve. Gingerly she placed her hands on his shoulders. If he touched her in any questionable place, he was going to most certainly lose a limb or two. A look of confusion that would rival his partner's specialties, crossed his face.

"Thank you, Henry," she said, as she took a deep breath. She really didn't want to do this. So, with much misgivings, she kissed him on the forehead.

Pintel's body went numb and rigid. The rum bottle slipped from nerveless fingers to shatter on the floor. The older pirate had been kissed by plenty of women, and, on special occasions, when he was actually home, Mrs. Pintel actually kissed him. It was rare indeed that he was kissed by a respectable lady that he didn't pay for.

Marita shook her head. Somehow that wasn't as bad as she thought it would be, (He had had a bath within the last three days.) and she certainly didn't expect that kind of reaction from him. She moved to bent over the bed to retrieve her daughter from the other pirate's clutches. Both Estella's grip on the man and Ragetti's grip on the child were too great. She could force them apart, but that would most likely wake the stressed little girl. She paused. Did she trust her daughter in this cretinous criminal's care? He did, after all, risk his life for her. It would have been easy enough for them to make good their escape with her as the prize to ransom or sell with the other pirates. She felt that Ragetti might think of her child as his lost younger sister, and in a way, that made Estella safe with him. Against all her misgivings, she gave in, as she stroked her child's face. She would let them be. The child had had a hard night. Sometimes she forgot how hard Karl's death had been for the little girl, and the child's terrified tears at the sight of the blood, flowing freely from the lowlife pirate, sorely reminded her of her husband's bloody body on the street and Estella, trying to desperately wake him.

She turned from them and moved to leave the room. Lucy cheerfully helped himself to the spilled rum. Pintel remained dazed. She huffed and cleared her throat. The pirate did not respond.

"And clean up that mess before you go to bed," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered in an unconscious sort of way.