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:  Hmm. Not much action in this chapter, yet it all means something, so don't bother yourself to be bothered. ; )

Chapter Seven: Almost Lost

The throbbing pain in his skull woke him up, and he stirred, every limb aching with a vicious hurt. The overwhelming scent of smoke and waterlogged wood came over his senses and he tried to move; yet an enormous weight seemed to hold him down. He tried to shift, to push up, yet couldn't.

Move. Fight this.

He wheezed with the effort, coughing sand from his nose and mouth. He made the mistake of opening his eyes, immediately shutting them tightly as they filled with silt. He stilled for a moment, and realized his left arm was molten with pain. Slowly, he tried to curl it against him, bellowing to dull the pain, yet it was pinned under something heavy. Tugging it felt like dragging his limb through serrated jaws. Finally, he had his arm folded tightly against him.

Yelling out, his voice came back to him, echoing fiercely and deafening. His mind reeled as the image came to him. Buried thousands of feet under the earth, unable to get out.
"No," he told himself, coughing on sand and mud. He thrashed and flexed, feeling whatever was holding him down give way and tumble off to the side, with much sound of crunching and breaking wood.



Sunlight filled his closed lids and he rolled onto his back, breathing hard from terror and pain. Slowly, he flickered his dark eyes open and was met with harsh raw light. He blinked tears and dust away, trying to remember what had happened. Who was he? What was his name? Why should all of this make sense to him?



He closed his eyes and breathed deep, trying to remember, and exhaled shakily. A dark sky, something dragging him away from safety, a loud crack, rock and glinting metal everywhere.
"Grapple…" he muttered his name; thankful he could at least recall that much.

His eyes snapped open and he looked at the blue sky, white clouds rolling merrily along. Something was wrong. He listened intently. No sounds of wildlife met him, no sound of wind, no water, nothing…Yet that wasn't all. He stilled, only moving his chest as he breathed.

His heart wasn't beating.


Wildly, he swung himself up and gave his chest a hard whack. He coughed and thrashed, trying to get the steady pound to start again.

"Beat, damnit!" he cried, and suddenly felt a cool sensation come over him. Then the sun faded, and he felt himself fall back.

Mallot was more fortunate. He awoke with a volcanic pain in his face, his head sore and body aflame with agony. Yet he felt…He breathed, finding himself on his right side, crushing his right arm. He opened his storm-grey eyes and winced at the sudden, unexpected burst of sunlight that danced over his optics. He let out a groan of pain and rolled onto his back, sucking a sharp breath in through his clenched teeth.

He closed his eyes tightly and waited. What he was waiting for, he didn't know. The storm had been fierce and the last thing he recalled was Grapple getting washed overboard by a large wave, and leaping forward to save him. Then something had swung up in front of him and gave him a hard clonk in the face. Knowing he must of blacked out, he lifted a hand and gently felt his face and head for any signs of damage. He found nothing out of the ordinary except for his head hurting mainly on the crown.

Breathing deep with relief, he clenched both his hands, and realized something was wrong. His weapon was gone…He sat up slowly, gently rubbing the back of his head, and cried out in alarm as a sharp pain streaked through his back, reminding him he shouldn't curve his spine. He winced and sat still for a moment, before slowly looking around his surroundings.

Sand was all around in front of him, the sea lurking out behind it, washing up to caress the shore before retreating back again. To the left, there were the remains of the boat. It had been cracked right in half by something, sharp boards pointing out from the split. Lightening must have struck the more ruined bow, for it was in a large pile, taken apart by some disastrous force and smoking, a few white coals still glowing fiercely. The bag of treasure had been lost, unfortunately, but he felt a relieved feeling it hadn't been his life. Behind him, a thick forest of trees and bush hid whatever was behind them, yet he noticed the ground was more hard mud then sand.



Thinking perhaps it was a strange bog; he sniffed the air and found no offending scents. Slowly, he tried to get up, holding onto his dried hat. He then noticed he was completely dried, which meant he had been lying there for at least an hour, probably more. Amazing how it had stayed on his head the entire time, he thought and tried not to smirk in amusement. He struggled into a kneeling position and started teetering on his feet when the oddest thing happened.

The bushes moved. He turned to look, and discovered something even odder. The bushes were not anything he had ever seen in the Caribbean. In fact, the forest was nothing he had ever seen, anywhere! Some of the trees were palms, coconuts growing from them, or bananas. Others wore pine needles, or sharp leaves that looked like acorns. Even stranger, some trees wore both kinds of leaves! Nettles met with deciduous leaves, bananas grew side by side on ferns, and oak trees bore coconuts…

He was sure that wasn't normal. Plus the bush was still moving. He winced, turning himself halfway around and stared directly at it. "Grapple?" he called out, almost expecting to see the strong pirate emerge and explain everything to him. Yet he knew it wasn't to be. Instead, a few voices, soft and wispy like traveling on a breeze, flew about. They were odd, distant as though being yelled across the deck or from the crow's nest.


He opened his mouth to shout something, not quite sure what he would say, but was abruptly silenced when a piercing pain on the back his head broke out. He growled gutturally, like a violent wildcat, finding his vision blurred drastically and his torso swayed from side to side hypnotically. The voices became louder, eventually forming into a pounding in his ears. Blurred shapes emerged from the bushes, but by then it was to late and he collapsed backwards.

~*~