Disclaimer: Silver, Jim and the purps are copyright Disney and all the blokes who created them, drew them, etc., etc. No suey for you-ey.

The Captain and the Cook

The aroma of baking Punnas bread mixed with a pungent roast settled in his nostrils and made his mouth water as he stumped down the stairs to the galley. The cook was humming merrily, heedless of him. The tune was airy and quick and made him smile. Even the clang of pans and the loud whoosh of the oven flames could not dampen the sound. The cook crossed the kitchen with a twirling skip, artfully avoiding the huge array of pots, pans and utensils hanging from the ceiling in one sweeping motion and the gaping maw of the furnace in another.

He put his meaty hands on his wide hips, smiling in spite of himself. "Well well, we haven't even set sail yet and here ye are, already makin' us a right feast. Careful now, that ye don' use up all our rations," he tried a warning glare, but failed.

The cook spun around, a stirring spoon halfway to her lips, and stared at him wide-eyed. "Oh, Silver! Good heavens, you scared me!" She clapped a hand to her chest.

"M'apologies, lassie," he said, filling his lungs to capacity with the delicious aromas, unable to deny his brain any longer.

"Oh, mine too," she said, dropping the spoon back into a tall pot behind her. "I just thought that by the time we set sail again it'd be dinnertime. And don't worry about the rations. I picked up more of almost everything when we stopped at Etridal."

The salty old captain pushed his tattered hat back and scratched his head. "Blow me down, lassie, you're nearly two steps ahead o'me. Mebbe oi should let you do the capt'nin' an' oi'll take me place slavin' in front o' the stove."

"The only thing I would be captain of is the kitchen," the cook said, her eyes downcast and her cheeks reddening. The smile she wore, small but genuine, returned Silver to the day they met.

Flashback

He was right proud of himself. In less than a month, he had rounded up a nice crew of 26, right down to the cabinboys and lookout. All he was missing was a cook. He strode along the creaking boardwalk, the bustle and energy of the port town all around him. To his right, ships were coming and going, most of them trafficking either illegal cargo or pirates. To his left, entrepreneurs hawked from behind their storefronts, at the same time trying to keep their rapidly-vanishing merchandise out of the hands of thieves. Drunks lay moaning in the street and whores leaned on lampposts, blowing gaudy kisses and winking as he passed. He sucked in the greasy air and smiled. This was his second home. His first, without a doubt, was on a sh...

"Extra coins, sir, if you've some to spare?" Came a soft voice from the shop he was passing. He stopped and turned. Slouched against the front of the store with his knees to his chest, was a smallish man dressed in tattered long pants and an overcoat that looked nearly big enough to fit him, Silver. The man's long, golden hair flowed down his front and obscured his downcast face. Silver briefly wondered how the man saw him passing, if he had his face buried in the voluminous arms of his coat. Propped up against his legs was a sign, made from two short planks nailed crudely together, bearing a clear, plaintive message: "WILL WORK 4 FOOD".

Instinctively, the old miser clutched his pockets, his breath already drawn to tell the man no, but suddenly he lifted his face up, and Silver was struck by the man's immaculately hairless face and his delicate features. This was no man.

"Help a girl out, will you? I promise I won't buy booze with it. All I want's a good meal down at the Red Raven." She spoke with a woman's softness, but there was a rough edge in her words, which told Silver she was no stranger to the life she was leading. "Missus Swaney makes a really good stack a' pancakes." That smile, almost invisible but speaking volumes in its simpleness, played in the corners of her mouth. Silver blinked and quickly collected himself. "Sorry, lass, oi be fresh out o'money," he lied, gripping the handful of gold in his pocket to keep it from jingling.

Instead of seeing defeat in her face, Silver received another shock when her smile widened and her striking two-toned eyes sparkled. She raised an arm and pointed at him, her finger all but swallowed by the sleeve of her coat. "I know you," she said, her eyes narrowing. "You're Long John Silver, aren't you? The pirate captain that found the Loot of A Thousand Worlds? Hell, if I had money, I'd be buying you lunch." She rose creakily, as if plagued by arthritis.

As young as she is? She barely looks twenty, Silver thought as she extended an open hand to him. Under the sleeves, her skin was smooth and pale, a contrast to his own sea-salted, leathery arm. He hesitated; his right hand was all metal and gears. Normally, he would not think twice of extending his cyborg arm to a stranger, but something about this girl caught him off guard. Was it her eyes, one serene grey and the other a fiery, glittering green, or was it her boldness, barely concealed by feminine modesty?

Before he could think further, she had his metal hand gripped in hers, pumping up and down firmly. "My name's Constance," she proclaimed proudly. "But don't call me that. Call me Bonnie. It's short for 'Bonfire,' a nickname I earned because of a teensy miscalculation while cooking dinner one night. But I have gotten much better over the years." She suddenly let go of his hand and lowered her eyes, her cheeks reddening. "Goodness, why did I tell you that? I sound like we're best friends or something. I'm sorry. It was presumptuous of me." She slid back down the wall and hugged her knees again.

...while cooking dinner one night...

"Anyway, it was very good to meet you, Silver. Keep up the good pirating." She settled the sign against her legs and sunk her face into the nest her arms had made for it. Silver remained motionless, the train wheels in his head turning a mile a minute.

"Ye say ye cook, lassie?" He raised a mechanical eyebrow.

Her head snapped up, confusion and hope flashing in her eyes. "Uh, y–yes, I... well, yes, I do, but..."

A lightbulb gleaming brightly over his head, he smiled broadly. "Come wid me, lass. oi'll buy ye some vittles and we'll talk."

She returned the grin and jumped up, nearly leaping into his arms. "Aye, Cap'n!"

Bonnie filled his ear with constant chatter as they walked, all her bashfulness forgotten at the promise of a warm meal. Silver glanced over at her, shrewdly sizing her up, as he had done every other creature that crossed his path. As harmless as this girl seemed, he was still a pirate, still living outside the law, still trusting no one.

But Bonnie seemed to trust him. She jabbered on about a Terraprawn she had caught once and what a difficult time she had had getting the six-foot long mollusk into a stew pot. Her openness baffled the old sea dog. She was a young woman without a home, which demanded the same distrust and wariness of all creatures that Silver possessed, and he knew she possessed it also. His instincts, honed to a point sharp enough to split a hair, told him that she had been on her own for a long time. So why had she chosen to trust him, a particularly untrustworthy man, and a dangerous one to boot?

"... so it finally died, that thing, but just when I was about to cut its ventral armor plates off, you know, to put it into the boiler, the thing suddenly starts twitching— " she flapped her arms wildly to illustrate the death throes of the Terraprawn, and Silver ducked as one overlong sleeve came close to smacking his head. He chuckled. It had been a long time since he had seen such youthful energy. Jim's face suddenly flashed in front of his eyes, and he felt nostalgia hit him square in his chest. He wondered if the boy, probably grown with a family of his own by now, remembered him.

Bonnie led him off the main boardwalk down a cobblestoned street, still chattering away. She presented to Silver a near-complete foil of his dear Jim: the boy was stoic and quiet, but she was animated and gossipy. Silver saw discontent and anger behind Jim's eyes, but her sparkling ones held only cheerfulness, though she had far less to call her own. In his mind, Silver saw Jim striding down the deck of the Legacy, his walk rigid and purposeful. Bonnie, however, was sauntering lazily beside him, as if she had not a care in the world.

But what struck at Silver's core, the one thing that he saw in this girl Bonnie that was Jim's also, was her smile. Their smiles were difficult to come by, but when one did surface, it was all Silver could do to keep his heart from exploding.

They entered a small, dimly-lit tavern, hazy with smoke. A wizened old grandmother, undoubtedly the Missus Swaney she had spoken about, raised her head from filling a tankard and waved.

" 'ello, me dear! Come, sit! Who's the big lug witcha?" She spoke in a tobacco-roughened voice, heavily cockneyed. She could have been Silver's mother.

"Missus, this big lug with me is none other than Long John Silver!" Bonnie beamed, puffing her narrow chest out.

"Bless me 'eart, love! What on earth are ye doin' wid a scallywag such as 'im?" The old woman's beady black eyes, buried deep in folds of skin, flashed menacingly.

"Gettin' a good meal, if you don't mind, Missus." Bonnie sat down at the sticky counter and patted a stool next to her, motioning Silver to sit. He did, and touched the brim of his hat politely at the old matriarch.

"Pleasure, Missus," he said. The old woman glared at him and hitched her skirt up huffily.

"A good meal, eh?" She squawked at Bonnie. "Well, oi suppose oi can't deny ye that. What'll ye have, dearie?"

"The usual, please, Missus."

"Comin' up, dearie." Missus Swaney marched into the kitchen, her wide behind swinging prissily. Bonnie rolled her eyes good-naturedly and leaned over to Silver.

"Don't mind her. She treats all her customers like the children she never had. Besides, she's not too keen on pirates. I know that comes as a shock to you in a town like this. A flock of 'em came down one day to her house and killed her husband and raped her. So I hope you can forgive her if she's less than cordial to you."

Silver shrugged. "Actually, lass, that's a warm welcome as far as oi'm concerned."

"So what did you want to talk to me about?"

Silver swallowed the ale in his mouth and cleared his throat. "Ye see, lassie, oi been lookin' fer a crew fer me nex' venture an' all, an' oi got all the men oi need, save fer a cook. Then oi happ'ned upon you, an'— "

"You want me to be your cook?" She squeaked, gaping at him.

"On'y if yer willin', lassie. It's a pretty nasty job, bein' on a ship fer months wid' a buncha pirates, 'specially fer a young lady loike you."

"No, no!" Bonnie leapt up, her eyes pleading. "I don't mind, really! I mean, I'm used to it! I've had to cook for a bunch of surveyors before! And believe me, a team of thirty surveyors cannot possibly be worse than a crew of fifty of the worst, meanest, saltiest pirates! I can hack it, really I can! I'm a really good cook! I've— "

Silver put his hands up, conscious of the dozens of pairs of eyes locked suspiciously on him. "Whoa there, slow down, lassie. It's all roight."

Bonnie bit her lip and plunked back down on her barstool. "I'm sorry. I just... this is so wonderful, because I've... I've been a cook most of my life. My parents were in a team of land surveyors, you know, going to newly-discovered planets and mapping out the terrain, seeing if it was livable, that kind of thing, and I was always the one who cooked for them and their team. My parents even joked that the only reason they had me was because none of them ever wanted to go near the cooking fire."

The swish of Missus Swaney's dress heralded the arrival of Bonnie's food: pancakes piled high on a plate, drenched with honey and surrounded by fresh-sliced purps. "There ye go, dearie. Anythin' fer you?" She spat at Silver, her coal eyes simmering.

"No, thank ye, Missus." He inclined his head and dropped three coins into her waiting hand.

"Fresh out of money, huh?" Bonnie smiled slyly up at him, her mouth full.

He shrugged.

"It's all right. I knew you were lying anyway. Most people do." She washed a bite of pancakes down with several gulps of bitter ale. Silver flashed on Jim's first taste of ale, which he spit out in a fine spray the moment it touched his tongue.

"Pardon me, lass, but... how old are ye?"

Bonnie wiped her mouth on her sleeve. "Older than I look, I can assure you of that," she said flatly.

This girl kept getting stranger and stranger.

"So do I have the job?" She looked at him expectantly.

"Of course, lassie."

She smiled her mysterious smile, and dove back into the pancakes. "So when do I report?"

"As soon as ye like, lassie. Me crew's complete now, thanks to ye. Oi've got a fine vessel docked at Tramuth, an' oi'd be glad t' take ye there if'n ye've got no other way."

"Sounds like a plan, then," she mumbled around a slice of purp. "Where are we going? I mean, now that you've got Flint's Trove under your belt, what's left to find?"

"Ah, lass, there's allas some piratin' t'be done," he smiled down at her. "But first, you need t' get yerself some proper attire. Lookit ye, goin' round in clothes roightly fittin' me, wid no shoes on ye feet. This won't do a'tall," he joked.

"If I had enough money for clothes that fit, do you think I would be on the street in the first place?" She eyed him. "Unless you're willing to foot the bill, I go as I am."

"Oi c'n foot th' bill, lassie, pay no mind t'that." He jingled the gold in his pocket, and vaguely wondered why he was suddenly being so generous.

She slowly raised her head to him, her jaw slack and her eyes large and liquid. "You... I wasn't... I was being... I wasn't serious, I mean, you don't have to... buy clothes for me, I just..." Her cheeks flashed five shades of red, and she suddenly became interested in a purp seed on her plate. "I didn't mean to say that you had to buy my clothes. I mean, a hot meal and a job is more than I could have ever dreamed of. I couldn't possibly ask for more."

Missus Swaney, watching them like a vulture from across the bar, glanced at Silver, and he swore he saw the ghost of a smile haunting her thin, pursed lips.

"Besides, I don't mind going like I am. This is my father's coat, and I... I like going without shoes. I feel better that way. Please, don't worry about it."

"Oi'm not worryin', lass. Oi'm doin' it out o' the goodness o' me own heart."

"Poirates 'ave 'earts? Well well." Missus Swaney bustled up and took Bonnie's empty plate. "Ye learn somethin' new every day, dearie." She smiled at Bonnie, then at Silver.

End flashback

"Oi, Tudd! Getchur nasty grubs outta my pot roast!" Bonnie swung a ladle viciously at a member of Silver's crew, trying to sneak a bite while her back was turned. The hulking, tentacled creature snarled wetly at Bonnie as the ladle connected with its elephant-like proboscis. "Git!" She jabbed the knife in her other hand at its place on the bench. "Siddown and you'll get your food soon enough."

"Stupid broad," Tudd muttered.

"I heard that!"

Silver, back to the present, chuckled. She glanced back at him. "Don't be getting any ideas, Silver. Just 'cause you're Captain doesn't mean you get to lick the bowl or anything." She pointed the knife at Silver's seat, her green eye blazing angrily. "Sit."

"She wasn't kidding when she said she could hack it, then," Silver's first mate, a strong young Bugbear from Cygnus IV, chuckled and scratched his beard as Silver sat down next to him.