Title: Swimming Above The Sharks

Disclaimer: I'm only borrowing these two characters. Technically, they're Disney's property… which sucks. But because they're sub-canon characters, Disney wont notice if I steal them for a while…Mwa ha ha ha…!

Summary: Mallot and Grapple discover themselves stranded, accidentally marooned, and with a hell of a lot of gold. That and Mallot intelligently points out they're not cursed any more.

Notes: Peter Piper picked a peck of pickles peppers. … Odd, I didn't know you could grow pickled peppers…52 times is the number of times Kenny from South Park died up until the 'Poster Child' episode. There fore, Mallot, being the humorous minion of evil he is, gets that special number. …Actually, I just wanted a way to remember how many times Kenny had died. I lost count…"

Chapter Four: Scars and Break

An hour and an entire crate of fruit later, the two pirates had summarized one thing; they were out of food. However, do to Mallot's ingenious skills of salvaging, they had discovered one more thing; they would eventually stumble upon another pack of vittles. Hopefully. Plus, they were no longer starving, and had other things to occupy their minds.

"How we goin' to get off this rock?" Jonathan questioned his brother for the fifty-second time that past ten minutes. Grapple, as usual, shrugged and answered with a quiet, "Don't know…". That, which was followed by a, "How we goin' to get off this rock?" a mere two minutes later. The discussion went on fiercely for another twenty-one minutes until Mallot announced, with an intelligent index finger pointed skyward and a tri-corn hat resting over his eyes, "I'm hungry."
With an exasperated sigh, Grapple rolled over onto his side from where he had been lying against the same mound of loot they had been at for the past hour and twenty-three minutes. The crate had been abandoned near his feet, and he stretched to kick it absently, yet missed.

"I wonder what's up an' about at Tortuga," Jonathan mused, more to himself then to his brother.

"Tortuga is Spanish for 'turtle'," Trevor answered in the same way his brother had asked.
Silence continued for a moment until Jonathan rolled his shoulders back and hissed in pain. He had been sitting upon a stool with a stuffed red velvet pillow on finely carved and polished wood, straight backed and with no line of vision at all. He turned his head, straightening his hat at the same time, to get a semi-look at his back. Rolling his eyes at his intention, he removed his heavy blue vest, checking to make sure all the buttons were still there, and looked at the back of his billowy white shirt that he wore.

The fabric was torn terribly in straight lines, some going horizontal, other strikes going diagonal yet just missing being cut-off. Some patches where badly stitched back on, while others were merely dangling to the original cloth. Beneath the shirt, fierce red and white lines were draw across his back, some still having the raw-look about them and fiercely red. Others looked worn, dull and the colour was dispersing, and the red was being washed with un-tanned, pale white. There were at forty-nine scars in total, if one took the time to count.
Leaning to the side oddly, he rotated his shoulders again and twisted his torso, resulting in a loud series of crunching sounds. Grapple winced and shifted onto his back, looking up at his brother almost worriedly.

"All these years, and they still pester you?"

Mallot shrugged, and replied with a brisk, "The cloth irritates 'em, is all." A brief moment passed before he murmured a practically inaudible, "They still hurt sometimes. My back…hurts."

"Of course it does," Grapple said decisively, putting his hands behind his head and starring up at the rock ceiling. "You could see the bone when they were new. And when you turned into a skeleton, these little gashes like cracks was always on yore spine an' the back of the ribs."

"I was innocent!" Jonathan said in protest, as though something Grapple had said inferred he doubted his brother's morals.

"You could have died, you know, Jonathan! If it weren't for me, you'd have been marooned and rotting, but I got you off that sentence! You got Moses' Law instead of death!" Grapple snapped back angrily, sitting up slightly and propping himself up on his forearms. "So don't go yelling at me like it's all my fault."

"I nearly did die…" Mallot muttered scornfully before turning his head away and not looking at his brother, who was staring at him even-handedly. Then, as though considering the wounds, he turned his head away.
"S'not like you could 'ave dressed or cleaned 'em. And you were always movin' about, re-opening whatever scabs formed…" Grapple said with a tone of understanding.

Mallot bit his bottom lip and replaced his vest, and then to avoid eye contact with his brother re-tied the light sash around his waist and re-buckled his belts. He started fidgeting with his fingers, the absence of his well-loved weapon awkward and almost saddening.
"Remember when Sara accidentally walked in on me when I had my shirt off…?"

Grapple snorted and sneered. "And yore pants down…"

"Yeah, but, but remember what she said /after/ that? She started yelling at me to tell her what had happened, and you had to tell her the whole story because she had punched me smack in the jaw and I couldn't talk? Eh?"

"She almost didn't believe it. She didn't believe you were accused of planning a mutiny. She said you were always so dedicated to Hobbs."
"Hobbs was a good man," Jonathan said thoughtfully, nodding his head. "I didn't really plot, though. That git, John Plugg, just didn't like me because I cracked his jaw wit' me mallet!"

"Aye! In the end, though, Sara believed us…" Grapple concluded with a nod of his head, smirking in triumph of the victory in the now aged memory. "We weren't hardly more then eighteen or fifteen, were we?"

"Naw. Not very old at'all."

Once again, silence passed between them, yet it was relaxed, without tenseness or anger. Mallot cleared his throat and turned to face his brother who was looking dreamily upwards as though the memory was far fonder then it truthfully deserved.

"Is...Is that why you married 'er? Because she was so caring?"

Grapple turned his head to look his brother in the eyes and furrowed his brows. After a moment, he sighed quietly and looked back up at the ceiling.

"She was caring, aye. But she was also a very beautiful girl, and smart. She didn't let anybody mess with her. She wasn't a whore, just a server…"

"And she fancied you," Mallot concluded with a sturdy nod, sneering slightly. Grapple chuckled and nodded.

"Yeah…she said I looked good!"
Both broke out into laughs, remembering the young girl who Trevor had wedded years back.

"Oh!" Jonathan suddenly broke out and cast an almost fearful eye at Grapple. "Alice and Jamie! They're all grown up now, aren't they? What's it been, six years since we last saw 'em?"

"Jamie's twelve and Alice is eleven," Grapple said knowingly, yet then bit his lip. Last time the children had seen him; it was almost heartbreaking for the pirate. He was admittedly one of the few freebooters who was loyal to his family, and cared for them. The curse had been upon the Pearl's crew and the children caught on immediately to their father's change. He lied, telling them he was sick, and they tried to convince him to stay and not go back on the Black Pearl. Mallot had jumped in, distracting them with the 'legend' of the Aztec curse and the dazzling riches the two pirates would bring back. Hobbs had to tell the children a few days later in the morning their father and uncle had gone off sailing with Barbossa and the rest of the crew. After all, Hobbs was their guardian when Grapple and Mallot were gone. Sara had died of a fever when Alice was but a mere four months old.

"When we get out of here, I sure as Hellfire have a story to tell 'em!" Jonathan said excitedly, clapping his hands together for emphasis.
"Just don't include the part about me getting' smashed to pieces by a rowboat."

"Naw. That's the funniest part! I can't leave it out, mate!"

~*~