A/N: Hello, my bbs! HAPPY NEW YEAR! YAS! We can finally leave 2020 in the dust! This year has been awesome for me but also pretty shitty; it's weird how that works, but ANYWAY~
This chapter gets super heavy! There's quite a bit of violence, which reminds me:
!TW for this chapter! TW for torture (physical) and threats of rape (but no actual non-con ever, fuck that shit!) So plz if you need to protecc yourself, then unfortunately, skip this chapter! If you need more details then feel free to PM me, either here or on my tumblr, xandylytex.
Today's random Glee shout-out goes to Gloria, because that performance is an official National Treasure. :')
Also, I'd like to thank all of you who are still reading and reviewing! You're the best!
Okay, enjoy another beast of a chapter~
The sound of a loud bell clanging instantly puts Santana on high alert as the Blood Siren slowly approaches the floating wooden gate constructed between the two cliffs- the Mouth of Sisyp. She can just barely make out the shapes of several defensive towers high up on the left cliff, and the distant movement of guards, most likely scurrying to defend their territory. Cannons line the top of the cliff, already in position to blast them from the water if needed. The thought makes her bite her lip- she can easily escape her bonds to swim, but the Tide Ripper is too far away to mount a rescue if they go down now, and they would surely end up in Sylvester's dungeons, regardless. She scans the defenses again- on the right cliff, on a lower ledge close to the water, is a station with another guard, who controls the gate- and he doesn't look very happy to see them.
He waves at them angrily, demanding in a shout, "Halt your ship immediately and announce your purpose!"
Quinn smiles genuinely, but with a devious edge to her upturned lips that Santana doesn't trust. She does not command her navigator to halt as instructed, and instead grabs Santana's shoulder roughly, shoving her forward to punctuate as she calmly states a reply to the guard, her loud, authoritative voice carrying a smug tone of superiority that makes Santana wish she could punch her in the face. "I come to barter with the Countess. I have slaves for trade."
The guard hesitates only a moment- but once he recognizes Quinn and the screaming red sails of her ship, and connects the information together in his head, he scrambles to a large, stationary megaphone and calls, "The Blood Siren may pass!"
Santana watches as the guards on the top of the cliff respond, lowering the torches they had readied to light the cannons, and another loud bell clangs four times, in sets of two. The floating gate slowly opens, sliding to the right and revealing the way forward with a loud rattling sound that reverberates in the vast space between the cliffs. The tall, brunette navigator carefully steers them through the narrow opening and into the winding, foreboding passage through the cliffs. Far in the distance lies a rocky cove shrouded in mist, which contains the pier where the ship will eventually moor. Santana feels slight relief pass over her as they round the first turn in the strait, knowing they made it through their first test- but she also knows there are many more, and the hardest is still forthcoming.
Once the ship completely disappears around the bend and they are out of view of the guard tower, Quinn turns to her, her expression neutral. Santana waits for her to say something, but instead, without warning, Quinn's fist finds her gut, brutally knocking the wind out of her. "That's for disrespecting me," she says calmly as Santana doubles over in pain, coughing for air. The next vicious blow connects with her jaw, sending her to the deck, where she lands hard on her side, her wrists still bound together. "And that's for thinking that you could keep me from what I want. I haven't forgotten."
"Nor have I," Santana gasps, glaring up at Quinn from the deck, secretly appalled that Quinn has made this so suddenly personal. Quinn shoots a challenging stare at Brittany, who stands barely holding herself in check three paces away. Brittany can only watch in horror; she knows she can do nothing- there's too much at stake, and they can't blow the mission. Besides, what would she do against Quinn, bound as she is and surrounded by the Lioness's loyal crew? She bites her tongue, her adrenaline spiking, her fists clenching. She files away this small betrayal to be dealt with- and repaid in kind- later.
Towering above Santana, who's just starting to catch her breath, and satisfied that her prisoners are too subdued to challenge her, Quinn reaches up to push a stray lock of bangs that had come loose from beneath her tight, dark bandanna out of her eyes. She points at two of her crew members. "Sheila, Ronnie, get her up. We're nearly there. Mack, stay on course."
Two large girls haul Santana up by her arms, and Quinn smiles triumphantly as the pier grows closer, and so does their uncertain fate. The sun is high in the sky, but the shadows cast by the cliffs onto the cove blanket the pier in spooky darkness. As Quinn moves to take her place in the center of the deck in preparation for greeting Sylvester, and Mercy commands them to moor, Brittany carefully shifts closer to Santana.
"Are you all right?" she whispers, worried, and Santana squeezes her eyes shut, anger and humiliation threatening to overtake her.
"I'm fine, Britt," she rasps in a low voice. "But remind me to make Quinn pay for this-" she coughs, her battered stomach clenching in pain, her jaw throbbing. Quinn's ring had left a stinging cut in her cheek, and she knows she will have a huge bruise within the hour, but all of the pain takes a back seat to the rising fear she feels at their impending trade- she's certain, now, that Quinn will betray them. But how- without blowing the whole mission? Why come this far? Why did Quinn agree to bring them in at all? Does she really hate Puck so much?
They stand in anxious, deafening silence as the ship moors to the dark, gloomy pier. Once the gangplank is down, two fierce-looking men immediately board, securing the area; once they discern it's clear of threats, one of them blows into a loud, small horn, and moments later, she steps on deck:
Sue Sylvester. The Countess of Suffering.
Quinn stands her ground, her posture tall and proud, and Brittany thinks it's like watching two legends meet and size each other up- though her admiration for each of them has been lost. She's never seen Sue Sylvester before, but she has to admit, the woman is terrifying in person. She looks as ghoulish as a reanimated corpse- with sagging, wrinkly skin, hollow, sunken eyes and thin, wispy, short white hair that frames her face. Dressed in all black, Brittany might mistake her for Death.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the Lioness, come crawling out of her dark, mildewy cave of rotten bones. What brings your stale presence to my doorstep?"
"Sylvester, always a pleasure," Quinn drips. "I'll get right to the point- I've found myself in the possession of a few prominent slaves, and I figured you were the perfect person to take them off my hands."
"You do know me so well, don't you, Q?" The Countess smiles, sinister, and Brittany wonders how Sylvester knows Quinn's name- do they truly have such a relationship? The thought makes her feel a powerful wave of dread; if Quinn's relationship to Sylvester is stronger than the one she shares with Puck, then they are surely-
"Show me what you've got for sale," Sylvester requests pleasantly, bringing Brittany's attention back to the current moment, and it seems as though time freezes as Quinn guides Sylvester to Kitty and Marley, who stand, obedient and loyal, ready for judgment. Brittany waits a small eternity for Quinn to speak, hyper-aware of the tension that builds as Quinn motions to her imprisoned crew members.
Santana also waits, watching with bated breath, trying to discern how Quinn's betrayal will find them- but no, she reasons, she would lose two of her own crew. She's not that crazy- she hopes. But still-
"These two were of my own ranks before they betrayed me," Quinn says finally, and Kitty and Marley look appropriately outraged at the accusation- whether genuine or fabricated, Brittany doesn't know. Quinn frowns sadly at them, looking truly upset for a moment before her eyes harden and she finishes with, "Do your absolute worst to them."
"The price of betrayal is steep," Sylvester agrees with a hideous grin, and it's then that Santana knows:
Quinn is that crazy. They're fucked.
Her thoughts fly, trying to calculate just how to get out of their current situation as Sylvester's two beefy guards begin to haul an enraged, but still obediently subdued, Kitty and Marley away and off the ship. Her muscles tense in response, and her fight or flight instinct begins to kick in, her adrenaline level rising. How can they escape?
"This one you may recognize," Quinn continues, moving to stand before Brittany, who glares with every shred of hatred she's able to muster into her eyes. Quinn grabs Brittany's chin roughly in her hand to show her face to Sylvester, "as the daughter of Duke Pierce, of Lycas, with her attendant. I'm sure you recall the wanted posters- and the reward?"
"I do... but why not claim the money yourself?" Sylvester asks calmly, her cold, calculating eyes narrowing into slits. "Why turn such a score over to me?"
"I haven't your power, nor your influence," Quinn admits with a careless shrug. "It is of no benefit to me to become involved with Lycas. However, you already have an established relationship with them, am I correct?"
Sylvester grins again, wider, showing gold and black teeth behind her aged, cracked lips. "You have done your research, Q. I'm impressed. I trained you well."
If Quinn wasn't still gripping her jaw tightly, Brittany's mouth would've fallen open at the revelation. As if sensing her surprise, Quinn leans in, her lips brushing Brittany's, and breathes, "You will live long enough to regret not choosing me." Then, with a sadistic smile, she presses a lingering kiss to Brittany's lips, knowing the girl is powerless to resist. Feeling disgusted and violated, Brittany can only watch as Quinn finally releases her jaw and turns to Santana, who's vibrating with rage so powerful she's sure she's going to explode any second.
"I saved the best for last," Quinn purrs, staring triumphantly into furious brown eyes. "May I introduce Ira Del Diablo, Quartermaster of the Tide Ripper, Santana Lopez."
"Unbelievable," the Countess crows with impressed glee, and Brittany's mind spins. Lopez. Santana has a last name that Brittany never even knew, and sudden regret fills her, sadness washes over her- how many other things about Santana does she yearn to know, that now she may never know because they are faced with their certain demise? The thought crushes her. "You've set me up with a small fortune. Although... I do wonder how you've come to be in the possession of such high profile captives..."
Quinn smiles acidly, her tone harsh with warning. "Continue to wonder, Countess. It's not my place to question what you'll do with them, just as it's not for you to know how I've acquired them."
"Fair enough. You know, Q- I've always said that you remind me of a younger Sue Sylvester... though you don't have my bone structure. But it's right now that I really see it. You have done well to bring these to me. I will ensure they are handled- appropriately."
The two bulky henchmen return to the ship flanked by even more brutes, and Sylvester halts them as they descend on Brittany. "Put her in my personal cell," she orders, and two of the hulking, smelly, leather-clad men grab Brittany roughly and begin to manhandle her down the gangplank. "I'll send a message to Pierce. I have big plans for her. But that one-" she points to Sugar, "goes with the other two. She is of little use to me." Brittany shoots Santana one last, fleeting smile before she disappears out of sight, and Santana's heart quickens with fear, her stomach clenching painfully, as Sugar voices her outrage at the guards who snatch her.
The remaining guards pause. "What of Ira Del Diablo, Countess?"
Sylvester turns to Santana, regarding her carefully as the captive pirate glares at her through narrowed eyes. "Bag her and bring her down to Sebastian for special interrogation," she decides finally with another sinister grin. "I would like to find out more about her ship." Santana tenses as the last two guards grab her arms. One of them opens a canvas sack, and she tries not to let her fear consume her, focusing on Sylvester's voice instead. "Q, Come to my office and we shall discuss your payment."
"Of course, Countess," Quinn smiles. "It would be my pleasure." She throws a questioning look at Mercy, who nods in approval. As Sylvester turns away, Quinn leans in close to Santana, her sharp green eyes alight with sick joy that infuriates Santana- it's the last thing she sees before the sack covers her head. Her mind begins to feel fuzzy, faint, as Quinn whispers near her ear, "I always win, S. Have fun in hell."
Seconds later, her world goes dark.
"Unhand me, you filthy ratbag!" Sugar snaps, struggling against the grip of the tall, muscled guard who guides her, rather roughly, through the dark, foul-smelling tunnels of Sylvester's dungeons. Even though she is exactly where she had aimed to be when they started this mission, it doesn't make the experience any more pleasant. The smell, the air, the darkness- all seem familiar in a terrifying way, and she struggles to suppress memories from when she was a child, mercilessly resurfacing as a result of her surroundings. As they enter a large chamber bordered with dirty, feces-covered cells lined with rusted, decaying metal bars, the surrounding prisoners- their interest piqued at the new blood- shout indistinguishable obscenities at her, and she feels real fear, not for the first time, when the guard finally shoves her into one of the prison cells.
"Shut up," the brute growls as he slams the lock closed on the door. "Or you won't live long enough to see yerself to market."
"And then you'll have to explain to the Countess why you've lost her money," Kitty snarls from her place in the cell, emerging from the dark, and Sugar feels relieved that at least she has familiar company. "Back off."
Without warning, Marley throws herself against the cage bars and begins to shriek and howl wildly, flailing her arms through the openings between the decrepit metal, and the guard jumps back in surprise at the sudden action. The other prisoners mimic her howls, beating against their cages, and the guard finally backs away, visibly shaken at the strong response.
"Yer all fuckin' crazy," he growls as he backs out of the chamber. He spits before he goes. "I hope y'all rot here."
Kitty reaches for Marley, patting her back to let her know she can stop screaming, and as if a switch has flipped, Marley instantly smiles, pulling back from the bars. She looks at Sugar, who's quickly working her way out of the binding on her wrists. "So-"
"This is the absolute worse thing that can happen!" Sugar fumes as her wrists finally come free and she throws the length of rope down at the disgusting floor in anger. She whirls on Kitty, her eyes flashing with fury. "Your glorious Captain fucked us all over!"
"She must've had a reason-" Kitty starts, but Sugar cuts her off with a harsh bark of laughter.
"Oh, sure she did. Her reason was that she wants to see us all dead! Did you not hear what she told Sylvester?"
Kitty sighs irritably. "I guess you're right."
"Obviously! She sold us out- but more importantly, whose side are you on, now, hmm? Are you secretly still working for Quinn? Must I slit your throat as well as the others?"
"I want to get out of here as badly as you do," Kitty snaps. "We didn't sign up for this mission, either. We were only told to infiltrate the dungeon and find the translator to return to your idiot of a captain. We didn't know about all the other stuff."
Sugar studies Kitty for a moment, wondering if she can trust her; then, she stares at Marley, who stares back curiously. She doesn't really have a choice, does she? Not if she wants to finish the mission and survive. She sighs in defeat. "The only way we are going to make it out of here is if we stick together- so first we need to escape this cell. On that, at least we can agree."
Kitty nods, and Sugar scans the environment, searching for guards and finally pushing down the haunting memories to gain control of herself. She will not be trapped here- she will not become a slave again. She takes a deep breath, and, once she's certain there are no threats nearby, she moves to the door of the cell, crouching carefully. "Keep watch," she orders, reaching up behind her head to the nape of her neck. Carefully, she pulls out two small, thin metal pins that had been hidden beneath her hair, embedded through the skin of her neck for safekeeping.
"What's that for?" Marley asks, her eyes widening.
"I'm going to pick the lock," she mutters, reaching through the bars and beginning to work. "Now be quiet, I need to hear."
Dull torchlight blinds her as she shudders awake, her eyes snapping open, and it takes a moment for her to register where she is- most likely a torture chamber in the bottom of Sylvester's dungeon; the absolute worst place she could be in the entire world. Despite the realization of her location setting in, the overwhelming feeling that floods her is not fear, but the desire to strangle Puck for getting her into such a predicament, because from the look of the tall, brown-haired man before her who's sorting through a collection of handheld pain-causing tools on a long table, whatever's coming is not going to be fun to endure. She feels a faint throb of pain in both her jaw and her stomach from where Quinn punched her- and she feels fury rising in her from the memory. Quinn. If it weren't for her betrayal, she definitely wouldn't be in such a position. After she escapes, she will have to find a way to make her pay.
After she escapes.
She tries to move, analyzing her position- her wrists are still bound together with the same rope from the ship, but they are held above her head securely by a hook on the end of a chain mounted to the stone ceiling. She shifts- her stiff shoulders and numb arms barely responding- and the chain rattles, but the tall, thin man across from her doesn't seem to notice, or care. She continues her investigation; her feet are free, but the balls of her feet just barely touch the slightly-raised wooden platform she's standing on, making most movement impossible without concentrated effort.
She shivers- though it's unusually warm down in the chamber- as she moves from analyzing her position to scanning her surroundings, searching for an exit, plotting her escape. A metal barrel with barely visible, glowing coals in it sits opposite the table where the man still stands, taking no interest in her alert state, but she feels her stomach tensing with anticipation for what's surely next as she observes the various instruments of suffering placed around the room. She takes a deep, steady breath of the acrid, humid air, conserving energy and focusing her thoughts. She will need all her strength and skill to escape, but it's not impossible. She just has to plan-
Sudden footsteps on the stone floor draw her attention, and moments later, the decrepit form of Sue Sylvester appears from a darkened entryway, offering her a joyful smile.
"Ah, I see you're awake- good," she greets. "They gave you just the right amount this time- we've had an issue with that before, you see. It's nice not to waste any more of my time- I have the princess to deal with, too, you know." Before she can stop her reaction, Santana involuntarily tenses, her brown eyes flashing as she feels rage overtaking her; her muscles flex and her body presses forward, restrained only by her bonds, but she forces herself to remain silent- she will give Sylvester nothing, if she can help it.
"Now, no need to be angry," the Countess reassures, immediately noticing the hostile change in Santana's posture. "She will be well taken care of by my paying customers- over and over again, I'm sure." Santana clenches her teeth so hard her jaw hurts, and she silently swears to herself that Sylvester will die if anything happens to Brittany-
"So- let's have a chat," Sylvester continues pleasantly, pulling up a chair from the other side of the table. She sits in it casually, her bones creaking from age as she goes. "You are the Quartermaster of the Tide Ripper, are you not?"
Tight-lipped, Santana stares steadily into the distance, ignoring the question, and instead fantasizing about how she will kill Sylvester the moment she has the opportunity. There's a knife on the table-
Sylvester waits another beat, then stands, brushing off her thighs as if having sat through a long, boring meeting. "Well, I can see you're not ready to cooperate yet, which is an unfortunate waste of time. And I had hoped to spare you some suffering." She pauses. "Oh, who am I kidding? I never wanted to spare you- I knew you'd play this foolish game of silent resistance." She laughs. "They always do! But don't worry- even if you'd answered I'd have had Sebastian, here, torture you, anyway- I can't pay him for nothing, you know."
She places her hand on his shoulder, and at the contact, Sebastian finally looks up and acknowledges her with a sinister smile. "Now, remember- start with flesh first, then move on to bone." She looks back at Santana again. "I'm sure you'll be impressed with his work- it's an art. He really is good at what he does." She pauses to cackle again, the sound raising the hair on the back of Santana's neck. "Ah, I'd just love to stay and watch, but I've got to get the word out to Pierce to let him know the good news- that his daughter's been found and the terrible pirate that's kidnapped her has been brought to justice. Your body's worth the same amount dead as it is alive. We'll chat soon."
She exits swiftly, and the moment Sylvester is out of sight, Sebastian moves closer, holding a small wooden baton. "I know she said to start with flesh, but-" he slams the baton against her ribs suddenly. Something cracks- she gasps with pain from the intense blow. "I always like to soften my guests up a little, first."
As she tenses in pain, struggling to catch her breath, her ribs aching, Sebastian takes the time to study her face. Slowly, deliberately, he traces his fingertips down her cheek, and she jerks her head away, defiant. He scoffs, "So feisty. It's going to make it very enjoyable when I finally break you." His fingers trace lower, down her neck, across her collarbones, and she bites her lip, trembling with rage, as his finger hooks into the edge of her chest wrap, pulling it down slightly to expose the top of her left breast.
"Enjoying yourself?" she hisses.
"Ah, so you can talk."
"You'd have to be a moron to assume I couldn't talk," Santana snaps.
Sebastian laughs a little, smiling a cruel, amused smile. He releases her chest wrap and turns back to his table. With careful, slow movements, he places the baton down and mimes searching through his toys, attempting to build suspense and fear, but Santana isn't afraid of pain- (she's only afraid of-)
He finally selects a terrifying cat, and when he shows it proudly to Santana, he strokes the handle lovingly, suggestively, in his hand. Santana holds her breath in anticipation of what's coming as he walks slowly around behind her. She's not afraid of pain but she definitely doesn't enjoy it. "You should learn a little respect," he scolds from somewhere behind her. A small eternity passes as she waits for his next move, tensing with anticipation, nearly holding her breath. She half wonders if he will even strike the blow as the moment drags on, but she knows he will, that he's just playing with her, and-
And then he swings.
Santana's been whipped before- once, when she was a young girl, onboard the Hellish Scream. The Captain had, for whatever reason, gone easy on her because she was young- if being whipped at all could be considered being gone easy on- and only given her ten lashes. The experience hadn't left scars, just a vivid memory, but it was far from enjoyable or easy, despite not ripping open her skin.
Not the way the very first lash from Sebastian does. She feels her skin tear on the first strike, and her thin chest wrap does very little to protect the small area of her back that it covers from the blinding sting. She doesn't even have time to catch her breath, to wonder what kind of whip he's using that could lay her open on the first strike, before he's hitting her again.
She clenches her teeth, tears springing involuntarily to her eyes as she breathes heavily through her nose, struggling to retreat into her mind, where the pain can't reach her, where his repeated, brutal strikes can't hurt her. A particularly hard lash hits her, and she's just about to break her silence, to cry out in pain, when just as suddenly, he stops.
He circles back around, holding the whip carefully in his hand. She shakes, her muscles spasming, breathing heavily. Her vision swims as she watches him set the whip down gently on the table again- it's covered with her blood. "I think ten is enough for now," he tells her, and she can't believe that ten lashes could feel so blindingly different than when she was a kid- did she simply repress the memory of pain?
"I can't have you retreating into numbness so soon," he continues, picking up a small, serrated carving knife. "We have a long, enjoyable time ahead of us, don't we, Santana?"
"Almost got it," Sugar mumbles. "You see any guards?"
"No," Kitty hisses. "Do it."
Sugar pushes in with the small pin, and the lock pops open with a loud clink. Carefully, she unhooks the bulky lock from the door, dropping it to the ground, and then swings the cell open. "Glad that's over. Now we go find this fucking prisoner and get the hell out of here."
"Amen," Kitty agrees. Sugar looks at her strangely, but as Marley bolts from the cage, she shrugs and follows her out into the large, foul chamber. Their escape immediately gains the attention of the surrounding prisoners, who yell and call to them as they pass, begging for help, for release, reaching for them through the bars with decaying hands covered in filth.
"Shut up," Kitty hushes them. "You're gonna alert the guards!"
"How are we gonna do this?" Sugar wonders as she scans the cages, regretting not coming up with a plan before they escaped the cell as they stand, vulnerable, in the center of the chamber. "We can't just ask them if they're the one we're looking for, they'll just lie so they can escape!"
"What if we say we are looking to kill him?"
"Then no one's gonna admit it!" Sugar rolls her eyes.
"But maybe others will... they'll rat him out."
Sugar pauses, thinking. She knows they don't have time to come up with a better plan- there's no telling when another guard will appear, especially with all the noise the other prisoners are making. She feels the passing of time elevating her stress level, so she finally says, "It's worth a try. Ugh."
Sugar moves to a spot to address the crowd of prisoners who are all pressed eagerly against their cages, shouting at her. "Listen! No, shut your mouths for a second. I'm searching for a guy-"
"I've got what you need, sweetie!"
"Come let me out and I'll show you what you're searching for!"
Impatient, Kitty interrupts, "to kill! We are searching for someone to kill! He speaks Dlobrohin-"
"Oh, please kill me!"
"I'm the one! End it!"
"This isn't working," Kitty mutters, exasperated. She looks nervously at the entrance to the chamber, expecting guards to come running at any moment.
"No, shit," Sugar snaps. Then, "Ah, sorry- I sometimes speak without thinking."
"We need to get out of here," Kitty admits, barely hearing Sugar over the vigorous shouting coming from the prisoners. "We don't have time to find the guy we're looking for." With a regretful frown, Sugar finally nods in agreement, and they move towards the exit before Kitty adds, "Wait- where's Marley?"
They pause, searching for the girl, and find her far down the passage, standing in a filthy, black puddle by the bars of a cage. On the other side of the bars is a tall, attractive- though dirty- man, dressed in only a loincloth and a few strips of leather tied around his wrist and forearm. Rolling her eyes, Kitty moves to grab her companion so they can finally leave- the poor girl always was starstruck by attractive men, even before the accident-
"Found him," Marley says happily as Kitty approaches, her boots splashing in the putrid water- or urine- or blood- as she reaches them.
"Found who?"
"You said you were looking for a man who speaks Dlobrohin?" the attractive man asks.
"Yes, that's right," Kitty allows as Sugar moves beside her. "Though you'd better not play us, because-"
"That's him," the man says loudly over the cacophony of yelling prisoners, pointing down to a thin, skeletal man who's curled up in a ball in the corner. He rocks back and forth slowly, chanting unintelligibly. His long, nappy hair is covered in crud, twisted into tendrils that hide his dark features, and his pale skin is marred with wounds and filth, but beneath the smears of blood and human waste, Sugar can make out various tattoos- and a very obvious one, a snake with wings.
"Is that Jesus Christ?" Sugar wonders to herself, and Kitty, who just barely heard her, shoots her an offended look. She signs the cross and raises her eyes to the heavens, whispering,
"She meant no disrespect."
The handsome man shakes his head in answer to Sugar. "No, far from it- his name is Joseph, I think. And I'm Elliot, but my tribal name is Starchild. Nice to meet you!"
Sugar barely nods, dismissing Elliot's words- but really, she couldn't hear them all that clearly- then crouches to examine the lock. "We have to get him out of here. We need him to translate something for us."
"I'm sure wherever we're going is better than here," Elliot agrees with a grin.
Sugar pauses in her work to look at him suspiciously. "We?" At his nod, she glances at Kitty, waiting for her to disprove his statement, but instead, she just shrugs, helpless.
"It can't hurt to have some more muscle," Kitty admits. She regards Elliot, sizing him up. "Do you know how to fight?"
"Of course. I'm from Yane, the North!" He shows them his right forearm proudly, smudging away drops of black-tinted water to reveal an intricate tattoo in answer.
"Whatever." Sugar turns back to the lock, trying to crack it as quickly as she can; the shouts of the other prisoners intensify, growing increasingly more desperate as they call to them. Marley hisses, alerting them to an unwanted presence, which reveals itself a moment later.
"What the hell?" the guard asks as he spots them down the passageway. He draws his sword and shouts for help, and Sugar curses, about to rise from her position to prepare for battle, but Kitty slams her hand on her shoulder, pushing her back into place.
"Keep picking!" she shouts before she and Marley lunge at the guard, subduing him quickly. The prisoners howl as the goon hits the stone ground and Marley twists his neck, while Kitty searches for keys to speed up their process. Once she finds some in a pocket, she tosses them to Sugar, who quickly unlocks the gate to Elliot and Joseph's cell. Already lifting a pathetically weak Joseph into his lean, strong arms, Elliot stands, ready for a hasty escape the second that the rusty gate finally swings open. Hurried footsteps echo down the passageway, alerting them to the approach of more of Sylvester's henchmen, and Kitty picks up the fallen guard's discarded kopis.
"Back the way we came?" Kitty asks, furrowing her brows nervously as the footsteps grow nearer.
"Or risk going deeper into this shithole of tunnels," Sugar agrees.
Kitty hesitates. "Not ideal, but we can maybe use the network of tunnels to hide for a minute while we figure out our next move."
"Into the shithole, then!"
Santana cries out in pain as Sebastian snaps another one of her fingers. Thankfully, he didn't know she was a southpaw, and had started with what he'd assumed was her dominant hand, to cripple her, to subdue her. The pain is intense, though not unmanageable, but the most frustrating aspect is that he had yet to ask her any questions- he's simply hurting her for fun, and not for any sort of information gain. He's causing pain simply for the sake of causing pain, a technique to try and break her resolve, to make her give in to despair, to hopelessness.
He didn't know she would already answer anything he asked.
With her right hand useless, Sebastian releases her from the device he'd been using to immobilize her arms, though her wrists are still bound. Santana weakly allows him to guide her back into her original position, awaiting an opening for her escape, playing a helpless victim. Once she's secured by her wrists again, her torturer steps back and smiles at her.
"So, let's begin again. You were the quartermaster of the Tide Ripper. Is that correct?"
Santana swallows, her throat and mouth feeling dry, parched in the heat of the dungeon. "Yes."
Sebastian's eyes widen to reflect his genuine surprise, and he smiles wider. "Well, then, that wasn't so hard, was it?" When she doesn't answer, he slams her already-cracked rib with the baton again in enraged punctuation. "Was it?" he demands in a sneer through gritted teeth. She coughs, shaking her head in answer, feigning greater weakness. He calms again, his smile returning. "Exactly. Now... tell me about your Captain."
Santana swallows. She's perfectly okay with telling Sebastian whatever he wants- because she knows she will kill him, and the information will die with him, never revealing itself to another. But has she endured enough pain to make her confession believable? Does Sebastian truly believe that he's broken her already?
She studies his cocky, arrogant face. It's possible that he does, but she can't risk it. So with a deep breath, she presses her lips together, hoping that whatever's coming doesn't disfigure her too badly-
She's nearly relieved when he picks up the cat again. She's not looking forward to the pain, but at least she knows the weapon won't cripple her too badly, preventing her escape. She carefully studies the whip while it's in her vision, before Sebastian disappears behind her again. Tiny, blood-covered barbs of metal are attached to some of the ends of the many long ropes, which explains why her skin tore open so quickly. She clenches her jaw in preparation.
When he hits her, she arches in pain, but there's nowhere for her to go. He repeats the motion again and again, and she struggles to find that place of numbness in her mind where she can disconnect from the suffering.
"You will answer me," he snarls in rage as he finishes up lash number seven, and after three more, he laughs in amazement. "Your back is starting to look much more beautiful."
Trembling, Santana squeezes her eyes shut, trying to block out the pain. Her back is on fire- she can feel the blood seeping from her torn skin, and the spasming of her muscles that were simply beaten and crushed by the regular, non-barbed tails of the cat. Her shoulders are exhausted, stiff. Her whole body feels fatigued from tensing and from the stress of her position. She knows she needs to escape soon, or she will no longer have the strength to.
A hand on her chin, lifting her face up, makes her open her eyes, and she's suddenly staring into Sebastian's cold, cruel ones. "Are you ready to tell me about your Captain?"
She begins to speak, but her throat is still hoarse, dry. She swallows. "Yes," she rasps.
"Good. Go ahead, then."
"What would you like to know?" she asks weakly, stalling for time, trying to focus her mind and direct her thoughts towards escape.
"Start with his name."
"Noah Puckerman."
"Excellent progress. The Countess will be very pleased. I'll have her bring in a map, and you can show us where your home island is... once I finish with you." Nervously, Santana swallows again, and Sebastian picks up the delicate carving knife he'd used earlier to set her up in the other contraption, and begins to sharpen it.
"I have one last thing I'd like to do," Sebastian says softly, twirling the knife in his fingers casually after he inspects the edge, "before you're in too much pain to care. You see, once Sylvester comes, she'll let me torture you to death- that's where the real fun is, but you'll be far too incoherent to appreciate my mark. I want you to watch. You see, it's kind of a tradition of mine to leave my signature somewhere- intimate." He grazes his fingertips along her bare, trembling stomach, which she clenches, revolted by the touch. Then, his fingers move lower, to her inner thigh. She twitches, glaring, and he smiles. "Here- this is the spot."
Santana holds her breath as he slides down to a crouch, wrapping his arm around her left thigh to immobilize it. She almost can't believe her luck- his arrogance has placed him in a vulnerable position, and his cockiness has believed her too weak to overpower him. If she had undergone ten more lashes, he might've been right, but-
There's no pain as he drags the knife blade slowly across the bare skin of her thigh, watching as it parts and blood begins to seep slowly. The cut is not deep- he's simply leaving a scar- but she suspects the action is more for the feeling of power, of control, than anything else.
"Wonderful," he murmurs as he examines the cut, and Santana tenses, waiting for her opportunity.
It comes when he shifts, when his grip on her thigh loosens so he can get a better angle for the next cut. She musters all her strength, throws her weight hard onto her right leg so that her toes have a greater grip on the floor, then pushes off to pull her left thigh out of his grasp. The motion knocks him slightly off balance, and he teeters forward, dropping his knife to catch himself, but before he can recover, she lifts both her legs and wraps them around his neck, squeezing, choking the life out of him. She wants to watch his head explode, her back and thigh still stinging from the torture he'd inflicted, his life the only current barrier between her and her own life. He struggles, his hands clawing at her legs, beating at her fresh cut, beating at her- but she squeezes harder, her legs trembling from exertion as she crushes his throat. Once his arms fall limp, and she's sure he's dead, she releases his twitching body carefully, so that it lands beneath her feet. Then, she uses his dead body as a step to release the tension on the line binding her hands. It's a stroke of luck that Sebastian didn't re-tie the knot on her wrists- a knot the female pirate on the Blood Siren deliberately tied at her instruction.
A knot that she can easily escape from.
She uses her knowledge and experience to wriggle her hands free from the binding, then jumps down off the platform, her whole body screaming in pain, her shoulders and arms tingling as blood rushes back into them. She feels exhausted, her muscles fatigued from pain and the tension, but she can't quit now- not while Brittany is somewhere in Sylvester's fortress, enduring Hades-knows-what.
She quickly takes stock of her injuries- the cut on her thigh is as she thought, not too deep, more for show than anything else. Sebastian didn't want her to bleed out, after all- at least, not yet. She tries to flex the fingers on her right hand, and bites her lip as pain shoots through her. At least three of her fingers are definitely fucked. She takes a deep, painful breath, her ribs aching, and shivers with fear for Brittany and shock from her own recent ordeal, trying to focus instead on what she must now do. She moves to the table, searching for a weapon. A sharp, wickedly-curved dagger lies next to various other tools of suffering. She picks it up, testing its weight, and then stabs it into Sebastian's dead body, ensuring he is forever silenced. Steeling herself, and knowing she has no idea how much time has passed, she moves to the exit to begin tracking Sue Sylvester.
"I think we're good here," Kitty mutters as she peeks around the corner of an empty cell, finding no guards, no prisoners- no one. It unnerves her for a moment, but she tries to accept the dumb luck and turns back to her comrades.
"Okay- do you need a rest? You can put him down for a second," Sugar tells Elliot quietly, "so we can decide what's next."
"Uh- escape," Elliot snaps as he lowers Joseph to the ground. "I thought that part was obvious?"
"It's not that simple," Kitty glares.
Sugar nods, also shooting a glare at the Northerner. "Right- I have friends trapped here. My Quartermaster- and- my best friend, the Princess of Lycas."
Elliot's eyes widen and then narrow in mistrust. "You're from Lycas?"
Impatiently, Sugar snaps, "Yes, but now I'm a pirate, and I need to save my friends, so focus. Do you know where they would keep high-profile prisoners?"
"I'm not sure... I've been to Sylvester's private cell only once, when I was examined for a price tag. I've been paid for by a wealthy nobleman, Walter of Phro- I was to ship in two days."
"That's nice," Sugar says flippantly. She turns to Kitty. "Sylvester's private cell... it's probably close to her quarters. We have to get out of here first, then-"
"Don't take this the wrong way," Kitty says firmly, "but maybe we should just get him out of here-" she jerks her thumb at Joseph, who's still in the same spot Elliot dropped him in, chanting in a low, ragged voice.
Sugar looks as if she's been slapped. "What?"
"-and get word to the ship so that they can help plan an attack. We are in over our heads right now, between this mumbling cove and our pursuers- we're in no shape to mount a rescue for either of them. I understand your desire, but we need to regroup, or we are of no use to anyone."
Sugar wants to argue, to protest, but she knows Kitty is right- their best chance of saving her friends is to get help from the other pirates. She tries to think of what Santana would want her to do- and she knows that she would want Sugar to finish the mission, no matter how bad she wants to save her friends instead. She sighs, relenting, but deeply unhappy about it.
"Fine. Then let's get him up. Elliot, do you think you can get us out of this dungeon and to the surface of the island?"
"My previous cell mate told me of a-"
"It's a yes or no question."
Elliot frowns. "...then, yes," he says dryly.
"All right, let's move."
The man standing guard barely notices when she slits his throat. It's only once her palm is covering his mouth, masking his cry of surprise, and blood begins to pour steadily from his severed artery that he struggles, but she's already muscling him to the floor, where he can finish bleeding out. It takes only moments, and she pulls his body a few feet into shadow behind a support pillar, listening to the gurgle of his last breath. There's obvious signs of a struggle, and a closer inspection of the area by anyone would reveal her obvious presence- but it's better than leaving the body out in the open, where discovery would be much faster. The now-dead body was the last one standing between her and the side door of Sylvester's audience chamber, where the previous, now-dead guard had informed her is Brittany's current location.
Santana slowly and quietly pulls the heavy wooden door open, thankful that there's no creaks, and slips inside, closing the door behind her. The side door is hidden from view by various hanging curtains- placed to section off the room- which she's grateful for as she creeps, searching for Brittany through the cracks of light between adjoining curtains. As she reaches the edge of one curtain partition, she can just barely see into the open room, and she spots Brittany in the center of it, her hands bound before her in the same position they were in before. From a distance, she seems unharmed, which causes cautious relief to wash over her. Another quick scan of the room reveals its other occupants- two guards and a slave girl- and she fingers her blade in anticipation. If she were to rush in, she would easily defeat her opponents, but the room is too open, with too many entrances. She could find herself overwhelmed very easily if she rushes in blindly.
"I've sent word to your father," Sylvester's voice says suddenly, so loud that it makes Santana jump. She peeks out again, searching for the Countess, who finally comes into view to stand before Brittany. "Thanks for waiting."
"Am I to care?" Brittany asks bravely.
"No, I suppose you wouldn't care about the outstanding price you'll fetch me for your return," the Countess agrees. Then, with a cruel smile, she adds, "But you might care about this: I never said I would return you in one piece." She pauses to let that sink in, and even far away, Santana can recognize the way Brittany's eyes exhibit fear. "You'll earn me even more money with that supple frame first. After all, Lycas has many enemies- enemies that would pay a small fortune to ruin the Duke's daughter."
Santana's not the only one who notices the fear that grips Brittany's heart, and Sylvester cackles evilly again at the response. "I see you care about that! Becky," She turns to a short, deformed girl at her side, so small that Santana's defensive instinct didn't even register her as a threat, "send word to the Maelstrom. We have fresh flesh they might be interested in plundering." The small girl- who's missing half of her face- mimics Sylvester's cackle from before, then saunters off obediently, and Sylvester turns next to the pale, brown-haired female slave who stands at Brittany's right, her head bowed respectfully. "You."
"Countess," the slave answers automatically, her voice lifeless.
"Get her cleaned up and prepare her for the Maelstrom's arrival."
Santana feels her lips curling up into a snarl as she watches Brittany be led away. Her mind races, and she's torn for only half a second- she wants to go after Sylvester, to rip her apart, but Brittany is more important- Brittany is always more important. She tightens her grip on her dagger and waits until Sylvester exits the room, humming jovially to herself. The slave girl tugs Brittany along by a rope tied around her bound wrists, and two guards flank them as they leave through the opposite door. Swiftly and silently, Santana follows at a distance, tensing, waiting for her moment to strike- but also struggling to breathe. As the trio and their captive walk down halls that are blessedly devoid of other guards, Santana plans her attack, grateful for the absence but knowing she would kill them all, even if they were present.
Brittany hesitates as they reach a large chamber at the end of a long, dark hall. She knows once she goes in that she will be at a severe disadvantage, because she has no idea what is on the other side- perhaps even more restraints? She wonders if she should attempt escape now- surely the guards would try not to kill her because of her high value, and she could possibly disarm at least one and be much better prepared to take down the other- she still has her knife in her boot, after all.
When the guards push her roughly forward, and M, her assigned slave, opens the door, she knows she's lost her chance. She will have to figure out another way.
She enters the room and is surprised to find a large in-ground bathing pool and various hygiene supplies. She swallows. Is this what Sylvester meant by preparing her? The thought makes her stomach clench- preparing her for-
M begins to untie her wrists, and Brittany's heart races as she suddenly realizes this could be her moment. When her raw wrists are free, the slave girl begins to remove her filthy chest wrap, and if not for the guards' uncomfortable presence behind them, and the ominous fate looming over her, Brittany might find herself calmed at the familiar action- M's movements and assistance are not unlike Sugar's from ages ago. When the guards begin to chuckle as her wrap falls free, revealing her bare chest, M catches her eye and whispers a small apology for their presence. The sentiment comforts her a little.
One of the guards steps forward, reaching for M's wrist, and the girl visibly flinches at the unwelcome touch, which angers Brittany. "You can jus' leave the rest to me," the man says, his foul breath making Brittany frown. "I'll make sure she's good and prepared for what's comin'."
"Yeh, it's not fair to let the Maelstrom just rail 'er," the other guard agrees.
"That's not for you to decide," M mumbles, and immediately the guard's hand connects with her face.
"Don't talk back to me, maggot," he laughs. He reaches for Brittany, grinning in anticipated pleasure. "If I decide I want a little sneak peek now, then-"
The second his hand touches her shoulder, Brittany grabs it, twisting it and breaking his wrist. He cries out in surprised pain, but before he can retaliate, she pulls him into her knee, which deftly finds his groin, then sends him sprawling, face-first, into the bath behind her. His head hits the stone edge and he lands with a great splash. He doesn't get up.
M, who had collapsed to the ground from the force of the guard's earlier blow, can only stare, open-mouthed, in shock at the action.
Santana, who had slipped in behind the guards and was hiding in the shadow of the doorway awaiting an opening for attack, also stares open-mouthed in shock, thoroughly impressed. An involuntary smile finds her lips- it's exactly what she would've done.
The other guard roars an enraged threat, and Brittany tenses in preparation to counter it. He takes one step forward and then Santana pounces, plunging her dagger into the side of his neck. When she rips the dagger out, his blood spraying from the wound, she sends him hard to the ground; then, as if drawn magnetically, her eyes find Brittany's, and they regard each other in disbelief for an eternal millisecond before they're meeting in a fierce, frenzied kiss.
"Dia," Brittany gasps as she pulls back, conscious of Santana's identity, but horrified at the sight of the many wounds her lover is sporting.
Santana offers her a weak, reassuring smile, shrugging off her concern, before she turns to the slave girl, who's still staring up at them in terrified shock. "What of her?"
Brittany studies the cowering, trembling girl at her feet and is suddenly moved by pity. She may not be able to save every slave in Sylvester's dungeons, right her father's wrongs, or correct her past ignorance of his evils, but she can save the thin, broken girl before her. She crouches down to touch the girl's wrist soothingly, meeting her scared gaze. "Do not be afraid- you are in no danger from us. We mean to escape this place- if you aid us, you are to escape at our sides."
"Aid how?" she whispers.
"Show us the path," Santana says, her strength beginning to fade now that her sole purpose- to find Brittany- has been fulfilled. But, no- Brittany's not safe yet. She must keep fighting, but it's a struggle just to breathe-
"My brother," the slave girl whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut in anguish. "I cannot leave him!"
"Then lose your chance at freedom," Santana snaps impatiently, feeling their time dwindling, and also, with her adrenaline ebbing, the pain of her wounds is beginning to resurface full-force. Brittany shoots her a disapproving look, then asks in a far kinder voice,
"Where is he? Can you-"
The sound of the door opening startles them, and they look up to see another surprised goon framed in the doorway. "Now, what's all this?!"
It seems as if time slows down for Brittany; she watches the guard's hand reach for his sword; she sees Santana, who's closest to the door, tense, preparing to fight; she feels a spike of absolute fear for Santana's life grip her, and as if guided by someone else, she draws the knife in her boot and throws. The knife makes a sickening sound as it lodges in the front of the guard's throat and sticks, halting his movement. He tries to speak but it comes out as a wet gurgle, and he clutches at the handle of the knife protruding from his neck, which Santana easily grabs and pulls free as he struggles futilely for air. With the knife removed, the suffocating man continues to clutch at his throat, and Santana lets him join the other guard who'd suffered a similar fate on the ground. She picks up a small washcloth from a nearby cart and wipes the blade clean before handing it, handle-first, back to Brittany, who numbly accepts and sheaths the blade back into her snug boot.
It takes a moment for it to sink in, what she's done; this is the first time she's ever killed someone, but she finds that she's not as upset as she might've thought she would be. Her action was automatic, and she doesn't regret it- not when her life, and, more importantly, Santana's life, was at stake.
More than ever, she's not the person she was.
Santana's small voice rouses her out of her thoughts as she mumbles, "We must leave soon, or risk discovery again..."
The knowledge that Santana is in no shape to fight more guards drives Brittany to turn to the slave girl; the tiny silver pendant with only a wobbly M scratched into it, dangling from a leather collar, is the sole means of identifying the human being before her, and a thought occurs to her. "What is your name?"
The girl blinks, shaking her head slowly, as if searching for something that's been lost for a long time. "I... my name is Madison," she whispers finally.
"Madison," Brittany repeats firmly. "We are not slaves. We are pirates. We will escape this infernal place. Will you help us?"
At the sound of her full name, Madison snaps out of her funk, and her jaw sets with determination. She glances at Brittany quickly, then, in answer of her decision, offers her the chest wrap she'd removed earlier. "Put this on and come with me."
Sugar rolls her eyes as Kitty pauses to throw up, yet again. To be fair, the sewer pipes they are creeping through are not the most ideal method of escape, and they smell godawful, worse than the dungeons they'd been in before, which Sugar hadn't thought possible- but still, she's experienced worse during her time as a slave before Lycas. She shrugs the memories away again. "Honestly, how did you even become a pirate if you can't handle this?"
Kitty wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, struggling to breathe through her mouth to limit the pungent, rancid smell from entering her nostrils as she leans weakly against the curved wall of the pipe. "I had no choice. It was either join Quinn or end up at the Beiste."
"That might've been a better lifestyle choice," Sugar mutters. Then, realizing how crass she sounded, her eyes widen. "Sorry."
Kitty stares at her, her expression wounded, and Marley places a comforting hand on her shoulder, which she shrugs off. Marley makes a hurt noise as Kitty straightens up feebly, shaking her head.
"We must hurry," Elliot reminds, his eyes darting anxiously down into the darkness of the pipe they're moving through. He knows it won't take the guards long to deduce where they've gone- there aren't that many escape options from the dungeons, after all. Joseph mumbles something from his spot curled against his chest, and Elliot sighs in response. He wouldn't be surprised if guards awaited them at the exit.
"Of course," Sugar agrees. She turns to Kitty, shining the torch she's holding on her to examine her face. "Are you all right?"
Kitty closes her eyes, focusing on swallowing down the bile threatening to come up again from the horrendous smell. "No- so let's hurry."
They continue on their journey through the dark, dank passage, wading, crouched because of the low height of the pipe, through the filthy, smelly water- runoff from the dungeons, filled with blood, entrails, waste, severed body parts, and who knows what else. Elliot had promised that the sewers eventually reached the ocean, and he had known of at least one other prisoner who had escaped this way- though he had been caught on the island, since he had no way to leave it.
When they reach a junction, Elliot pauses to deliberate for only a moment before choosing the path on the right. It seems like they travel for hours- the time seeming longer due to the unpleasantness of their surroundings- but in actuality, it's only half of one. Finally, the path angles down, and the water seems to rush faster, louder, cluing them in to the fact that they are almost to the exit. They hurry their pace, encouraged by the sound of distant waves, and the pipe becomes more and more full of the putrid water as they move- until they reach a dead end.
"Now what?" Kitty demands, her voice holding a note of panic.
"Now, we hold our breath and dive," Elliot says grimly. He glances down at Joseph. He will have to drag him under, the extra weight negligible because of his frail condition. He begins to switch the man's position to his back as Kitty laughs in disbelief, repulsed at the idea of plunging her head into the rancid liquid.
"No choice," Sugar mumbles to her to preemptively counter her protest, and before Kitty can say another word, Marley takes a deep breath and disappears under the water. Kitty and Sugar share a look of disgust, and Elliot sucks in air and dives next.
Finally, Sugar sighs. "I don't want to die here." She reaches for Kitty's hand, squeezes it to offer comfort and support, and then drops the torch she's holding, which douses once it hits the water. She releases a loud sound of disgust, sucks in a breath, and makes the plunge.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Kitty pinches her nose and follows.
It's a short swim through the eroded end of the pipe and into the fresh, salty water of the ocean. When they surface moments later, they discover that the passage of time was longer than they originally thought- the sky has turned black, blanketed by stars, with a bright half-moon lighting their way, reflected from the waves. They swim towards the shore, which is not far, and littered with trash and various debris that had washed up from the sewer pipe.
Kitty takes deep breaths of fresh, salty air, relieved to be washed clean of the putrid sewer. She pushes damp hair from her face and turns to Sugar, who's wringing water out of her hair. "Now where?" she asks; then, deciding that her mouth still tastes foul, she moves back to the surf to scoop up a handful of water to rinse with as Sugar answers,
"Depends on where we are."
They both look over at Elliot, who lies on his back on the sand next to a curled-up Joseph, breathing hard through a wide, joyous smile, his arms outstretched by his sides. Without opening his eyes or losing his smile, he says, "we are on the back side of the island, just outside Sylvester's fortress."
"Our ship was to meet us on the leeward side, near the outskirts of the cliffs," Sugar mutters. "How the hell are we going to find our way there?"
"We follow the coast," Marley says, sounding suddenly coherent. Sugar watches the girl in surprise as Marley gazes into the sky, discerning the constellations. "If we head south in that direction, we should reach the leeward side of the island."
Clearing her throat, Sugar nods. "Right, then. I don't know about you, but I'm ready to get the fuck off this wretched island."
"Let's go."
It takes them another half hour to move slowly around the coast, avoiding detection by look-outs, or overpowering any that happen to notice them. When they finally make it to the leeward side of the cliffs, they can just barely spot the dark silhouette of the Tide Ripper on the horizon- close, but not close enough. Sugar moans in frustration, unsure how to signal to them without doing something dramatic- something that would definitely give away their position- when Marley points down to a small rowboat, beached on the slight stretch of sand at the base of the cliff. The group carefully makes their way down to the beach, and, as they approach the rowboat, find Puck, Mike and David waiting for them in the shadow of the cliffs, hidden from aerial view.
"What the hell? Where's Santana and Britt?" David demands the second he spots them, his fists clenching automatically in anger.
"Nice to see you, too," Sugar mumbles under her breath.
"Sylvester has them," Kitty answers, fidgeting uncomfortably under the accusing, angry stares of the pirates- she's unsure how they will take the news of her captain's actions.
"What?" Mike asks, looking as if the information had personally slapped him.
Sugar stares hard at Puck. "The Lionness betrayed us."
The dead, stiff energy that overtakes the pirates as they absorb Sugar's words is nearly tangible to Kitty, who still feels somewhat accountable, despite not knowing Quinn's plan ahead of time. She watches as Mike and David slowly turn to throw accusing glares at their own captain, and the action confuses her.
"No," Puck whispers, shocked.
"Did I miss something?" Kitty mumbles to Sugar as Puck turns his empty, numb gaze out to the ocean, staring blankly into the abyss.
David is the first to snap out of his shock, drawing his axe as if he's about to rampage. "Well, that's it- we've gotta bust 'em out. Where are they being held?"
Sugar shakes her head. "I don't know. We were outnumbered- that's why we came for aid."
David points his axe at Elliot and Joseph. "What about these milksops?"
"He's the one we were searching for," Kitty says, indicating Joseph. "And he-"
"He speaks Dlobrohin?" Puck demands, cutting off Elliot's introduction.
"Yes," Elliot confirms, offering a cautious smile and staring Puck down; he straightens up to demonstrate his equal, intimidating height. "But he's in bad shape. He won't last without medical treatment and food."
"That can wait," Mike dismisses. "First, we help our friends-"
"No," Puck orders. "He gets help now. Let's face it- our friends aren't going anywhere- but if this pathetic meatsack dies, this will all have been in vain."
Mike hesitates, incredulous, disbelieving. He wonders if he should refuse, if he should go and collect his friends anyway and let the cursed, decrepit man rot, just to prove a point- but when Puck repeats, now, he narrows his eyes. Finally, after a tense, brief second, he shakes his head disappointingly, pausing to spit at Puck's feet before helping Elliot escort Joseph into the rowboat.
"Are you insane?" David demands in a quiet hiss as Sugar, Kitty and Marley reluctantly begin to board the rowboat. He's never wanted to plunge his axe into his captain more than in that moment, but years of earned respect stay his hand.
"We can't just charge in," Puck explains quietly. "You know that. We will all die if we make a mistake, and we can't help our friends if we're captured, too. Sylvester has the advantage- we need to plan this carefully."
David angrily sheaths his axe in submission, then moves to help push the rowboat off of the bank at the base of the cliff, every fiber of his body screaming at him not to abandon his friends, but-
He pauses to glare at Puck. "I'm fucking listening. But if we ain't got a plan by midnight, I'm busting them out myself."
Brittany pauses to let Santana catch up to her- the woman is silent, but Brittany can sense the physical pain she is suffering through with each step, though she would never admit it, nor allow it to hinder her. In their haste to escape, she hadn't the time to question what had happened to her quartermaster, or why she was covered in blood- blood Brittany hopes does not belong to Santana, but knows, with a sinking, tightening feeling of dread in her stomach, that it does. Santana coughs as quietly as she can, and Brittany can see the expression of pain cross her face even in the darkness of the slave tunnels they're traveling. Madison leads them silently onward, hidden behind the walls of the castle, but the longer they spend trapped in the fortress, the more and more anxious Brittany feels about their chances of actual escape. The more time that passes, the more opportunity Sylvester has to discover them missing- if she hasn't discovered it already. She can't even think about rescuing Sugar, yet- she only hopes that her best friend has found a way to escape, as well, and if not, she prays that Sylvester won't retaliate against her-
"Wait here," Madison whispers, pausing before a rickety wooden door. "I will collect my brother and we can continue with our flight." Then, before either of them can protest, she slips through the slim doorway and into the adjoining chamber.
Curious, and also needing to know what to expect on the other side, Brittany peeks through a crack in the door. Through the crack, Brittany can see what looks like quarters, obviously meant for the slaves, but much too cramped for the sheer volume of bodies expected to stay in them. She watches as Madison quietly kneels next to a shabby pile of straw fashioned into a sleeping area and wakes a young man who clearly resembles her, motioning for his silence with her hands. Brittany's impressed with the speed at which he dresses, but bites her lip nervously as they collect a small bag of belongings- she understands, but they don't have time for such sentiments. She debates opening the door to usher them along when finally, Madison stands, tugging her brother with a hand towards the door. Brittany steps back to allow them entry, but just as soon as the door creaks open, the sound of another door opening echoes in the chamber, and Brittany's heart clenches with fear at the sound.
"Where ya goin', slave?"
Madison freezes, her eyes catching Brittany's, which are shrouded in darkness. Brittany shakes her head slowly, willing her not to expose them, and then her brother speaks-
"To perform my duties and prepare for the arrival of the Maelstrom, as instructed," he says easily, without hesitation.
"There's been a change o' plans. All slaves are t' report t' th' audience chamber for interrogation. It seems some o' our guests have escaped."
The brother pauses. Madison holds her breath, squeezing her eyes shut as tears begin to form. Brittany tries to have compassion for her in such a terrifying situation, but focuses on what she must do next- fight or flight? She doesn't have long to ponder before Madison's brother breaks the tense moment of silence.
"I'm afraid I can't do that."
Heavy boots shuffle forward, and Brittany crouches to draw her boot knife, coiling in preparation.
"You dare disobey direct orders, slave?"
"Mason," Madison whispers, pleading, but before anyone can react, her brother quickly pulls a shiv- fashioned from some sort of scrap metal- from his belt and attacks, stabbing the first goon in the stomach. More boots shuffle forward, revealing to Brittany that there's numerous opponents, and she hears a male voice cry out in pain as she moves from the darkness and into the doorway.
Mason is falling back into Madison's arms, bleeding from his ribcage area; she tightens her grip on her knife and hesitates only a moment- she wants so badly to protect Santana, to leave, but she can't watch two innocent people get killed for her- not again, and not when she has the power to stop it-
Mind made up, she bursts from the tunnel, silent and deadly, knife out, and seconds later it's plunged into the second guard's chest, finding his heart. She's freeing her knife and turning to the third threat an instant later. "Go!" she shouts to Madison, who tearfully gathers her brother and flees weakly into the tunnel.
The sound of a fourth body hitting the floor alerts her that Santana has emerged to help her, and together, they easily take down the third enemy.
Santana picks up a discarded falcata. "Probably going to need this now... the fifth one got away."
Brittany's stomach clenches at the thought of Santana fighting more enemies, especially in her quickly deteriorating state, but they are out of options. She re-enters the tunnel to find Madison pressing a corner of her skirt to Mason's bleeding ribs.
"You idiot," she sobs.
He gasps with pain. "I couldn't let them find you-"
"They're gonna find all of us if we don't move," Santana says, exhausted from the exertion. Her back, which had at least mostly sealed earlier, has started to bleed again. Knowing that Madison will not leave her brother behind, Brittany immediately moves to help Mason to his feet, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, and the slave girl lifts his other arm around her shoulders, pointing into the blackness.
"This way- we're not far from the stables."
"Madison," Brittany whispers quietly, "we need to get to the beach, on the leeward side of the cliffs."
Madison nods, which Brittany can discern only from slivers of light that leak through the cracks in the doors as they pass them. "The stables are near the beach."
They move as quickly as they can down the dark, dank tunnel, considering that Mason can barely walk, even with the aid of his sister and Brittany, and Santana is forcing herself forward, each step, each breath a fresh agony. When they finally reach the stone steps leading up to the stables, they are greeted with the pungent smell of livestock and manure- a much more pleasant aroma than the stale scent of decay they'd experienced in the tunnel. The sound of a distant alarm bell ringing across the island sets them on edge, ramping up their already high-strung nerves.
"Should we steal a horse?" Brittany wonders, and Santana shakes her pounding head slightly, fading, her adrenaline and strength ebbing.
"Too conspicuous..." she mumbles, her words barely understandable.
"Santana?" Brittany breathes, reaching up to brush hair tenderly from her forehead. She cups her hot cheek. "Just a little farther."
Santana nods, her grip on the sword in her hand feeling so weak that she's not sure the hand even belongs to her. It takes everything she has left just to keep it in her fist as they slink around the back of the stables, trying to remain undetected, but when they round a stall to make the final break to the shore, they bump into another slave, who is visibly unhappy when she sees them.
"You fool!" she shrieks at Madison. "You will get us all executed for your betrayal!"
"Then come with us, Bree," Madison begs. "There is no life here-"
"There is no life after double-crossing Sue Sylvester!" Bree snarls, and in the next moment, she leaps forward, her nails clawing angrily into Madison's face, leaving deep, bleeding scratches in their wake. Madison jerks away to escape the attack, and Mason begins to slide from Brittany's grip, struggling to defend his sister despite collapsing; Brittany does her best to support his full weight by herself.
Bree continues to claw at Madison, attempting to corner her into a stall where she can no doubt trap her until help arrives. They grapple, and Bree forces her back, prompting Brittany to lower Mason to the dirt to offer assistance. Madison crumples to the ground with Bree overpowering her, when suddenly Santana kicks the enraged slave off, raising her falcata threateningly.
"Leave us," she hisses weakly, panting, winded from the action. Her hand holding the sword trembles. "Or meet your end now."
Bree glares up at them before backing away, slinking into the shadows. Knowing they have only moments before Bree returns with a posse of Sylvester's henchmen, Brittany pulls Madison to her feet, then they both lift Mason up again, supporting his weight across their shoulders.
"She's a fool," Madison mutters, clearly disturbed by the encounter, the right side of her face oozing blood from Bree's scratches. "She's clearly been conditioned."
"How much farther?" Brittany huffs as they move. She's tiring rapidly, her body having spent too much time in a hightened status. Once again, she thinks of Sugar, and hopes that she can get Santana to safety quickly enough to return with a rescue party, though coming back onto this island is the very last thing she desires.
"Just up that hill," Mason mumbles weakly in response.
The climb up the steep hill is agonizing. Santana wishes she could crawl, but they don't have time. She forces herself, using her sword to pull herself forward and wishing she could help Brittany with Mason, but she knows that her greatest help will be to carry her own weight, because Brittany cannot support another body.
When they reach the top of the hill- which is actually the cliff, she realizes, as she takes in the steep drop on the other side and the endless ocean in the distance- she takes a deep, gasping breath, searching for her ship. The silhouette of the Tide Ripper can be seen on the horizon, and judging from the moon's position in the sky, she knows it's nearly morning- where is her rescue crew?
She scans the dark ocean waves and nearly sobs with relief as she spots the rowboat cutting swiftly through the water as it closes in on a little patch of beach far below them. Her heart pounds with hope as the rowboat purposefully runs aground onto the sand and David, Mike, Sugar, Kitty and Marley disembark, armed and looking as if they are about to break them out, as promised. Her legs finally give out and she collapses as powerful relief washes over her. Her grip on her sword finally falters, her muscles tremble with fatigue, and she smiles as she confirms that Sugar made it out safely.
Brittany waves down to them, and Sugar shouts when she notices, pointing in excitement, and suddenly their friends are tearing up the cliff, an excited energy hastening their pace.
"Fuck," David gasps the moment he takes in Santana's mangled state. Mike is immediately at her side, assessing the damage, and Kitty and Marley relieve Brittany and Madison of Mason, carefully guiding him down the cliff path and into the rowboat. Madison trails after them, laughing through tears of joy.
Brittany stands back, giving Mike space to do his work, but David is on her other side, looking shaken. Santana reaches out blindly, and David immediately takes her hand in his strong grip.
"How does it feel?" she mumbles, and he stares at her incredulously.
"Shitty," he admits with a watery laugh.
She chuckles weakly as Mike directs him to lift her down to the rowboat, and David does, pausing only a moment to glance at Brittany and offer her a solemn smile. He wonders how she must be feeling, what she must be going through, what they've both endured- and he wishes, again, that he could bury his axe in his idiot captain.
Brittany watches David carry Santana down to the rowboat, feeling numb, her thoughts spacey and empty-
"Brittany- Brittany," Mike insists, waving his hand before her face. She comes to suddenly, looking at him with a quizzical huh?
"I asked, are you okay?"
Is she okay? Her heart feels like it's being ripped from her chest while simultaneously still racing furiously to preserve her life. The fear of Sylvester's plans to sell her body to the highest bidder, and the numbness from the fact that she killed her first human being have yet to leave her. But physically-
"I'm fine," she says quietly. She looks again towards David, with Santana's small, broken frame cradled in his arms, and then back at Mike. "How can I help?"
"Her skin is crushed," Mike mumbles to himself as he carefully washes the raw, exposed flesh on Santana's back. She doesn't stir; she had passed out from fatigue on the agonizingly long rowboat ride back to the ship, her body demanding rest in order to repair the damage to her abused muscles and skin, but he'd ensured she stayed asleep by administering special sleeping power once they made it to the infirmary aboard the Tide Ripper.
He studies the criss-crossing pattern of lacerations in her skin, determining that they couldn't have been caused by an ordinary cat. Still- the lacerations aren't much cause for concern, but the beating of her muscles and possible internal damage from the repeated blows worry him. It's a wound he'd treated many times aboard the Hellish Scream, due to their former captain's penchant for flogging as punishment, but one he hadn't seen in a long time, for the pirates did not punish crew with such a savage method. He looks up from his examination once he's finished cleaning the torn expanse of skin.
"How's that coming along?" he calls over his shoulder.
Brittany brings the mortar, in which she's been vigorously using a a pestle to mash some medicinal plants together into a sort of pulp to spread on Santana's wounds, closer.
"I think it's about ready," she says, her tone belying her confident words as she shows Mike the contents for confirmation. She's never been involved in any sort of medical process, and she has no idea what she's doing, but she needed to be involved somehow- to help Santana, if only to feel as if she's contributing to her aid.
Mike nods in approval and accepts the bowl, and Brittany moves to gently grasp Santana's limp hand as he spreads the creamy substance in a thick layer along her open wounds.
Brittany bites her lip, studying her bruised face, her furrowed eyebrows- which tell Brittany that pain can still reach her while she sleeps- and the tiny cut on her cheek from Quinn's ring. "What happened to her, Mike?"
"Looks like flogging," he answers in a clinical tone. "The pattern and type of her wounds look like consistent beating with a cat, though this one had particularly vicious claws."
"Why would they do that to her?"
Mike takes a deep, steady breath before looking up into Brittany's eyes. "For information. Sugar told us Quinn betrayed you- it only makes sense that Sylvester would want to capture the rest of us, too."
Brittany's heart breaks at the thought of Santana enduring pain at the hands of Sylvester; later, she will feel murderous rage, and intense hatred for the Lioness and the Countess, but at the moment, she just feels devastated. She watches Mike spread more of the plant pulp, wondering what the extent of the damage is- but knowing that they have no way of knowing for certain. Still-
"Will she recover?"
Mike nods. "She should. This will definitely help protect from infection and aid in the process."
Brittany offers him a small smile, grateful for his positivity in such a dire situation. "How did you learn so much about healing?"
Mike laughs bitterly. "Trial and error, unfortunately. I've lost a lot of good men over the years."
"But you've saved a lot, too."
He pauses to smile, comforted by her observation. "I suppose you're right."
Once he finishes with the mash, he lays large strips of clean cloth over her wounds to protect them while the herbs do their thing, and sits back.
"Now what?" Brittany wonders softly.
Mike moves to Santana's other side, picking up some short, thin sticks of wood from the small work table nearby as he goes. "Now- help me splint her hand."
Brittany stays busy as they sail swiftly home from the waters near Sisyp, trying not to think about the fact that Santana is fighting for her life in the infirmary. Brittany wanted to stay by her side and never leave, but she also knew there was nothing she could do, and that staying busy would help distract from her consuming worry. Mike had promised to fetch her immediately if Santana awoke over the two-day journey to their home island, but he didn't think it would be very likely, sedated as she was.
She spent some of her free time with Sugar; the first thing she did once Santana was settled into the infirmary was to hug her friend as tightly as she could, unable to stop tears from falling because of their shared ordeal. She thanked Kitty and Marley for helping to finish the mission, and for coming back for her and Santana- it meant a lot that, unlike their captain, at least the pair from her crew was honorable. Kitty outright refused to go back to Quinn, still stung from the Lioness's deep betrayal, and the question of what to do now with the two of them was surely up in the air, though Brittany did not spend time thinking about it, far too busy trying to think about trivial, unimportant things to distract her mind, instead.
Thankfully, Kurt had given her plenty to do- he placed her in charge of their new guests, and she noticed with sullen jealousy that they ate much better food than she did during her first few days in captivity aboard the Tide Ripper.
"They're not our prisoners, Britt," Kurt had reminded her. "They helped save our lives. And Joseph will surely expire if we don't provide him nourishment- then this entire trial would have been for naught."
So as she brings a pot of hot soup and a basket of fresh rolls down to the hold where Elliot and Joseph are staying, she tries to remember how scared and distraught she felt as a captive, and finds her compassion.
Elliot had cleaned up with his water ration and had already claimed a cozy corner of the space, creating a nest out of unraveled and frayed rope. He thanks her for the food, and Joseph, who's stepped back from the ledge of death he was perched on, also thanks her as he accepts his bowl weakly.
"Will you be staying with us?" Brittany wonders, lingering for only a moment before she leaves to continue her rounds.
"For a while, I think," Elliot admits. "At least until we port in a place I fancy. I never expected to taste freedom again- at least, not so soon."
"Will you return home?"
Elliot smiles wistfully as he breaks open a roll. "If only home were a place I could return to... thank you again for the food."
Leaving them in peace to eat, she makes her final visit to the infirmary, where Mason rests, recovering from his stab wound that remarkably did not strike anything vital. Madison sits by his side, whispering to him in hushed tones, and she leaves their rations respectfully with her to administer. The woman had thanked her profusely at every opportunity, promising her life in retribution, but Brittany had shrugged it off. She wants to speak to them more, to learn how they found themselves in the ownership of such a tyrant, but she knows she cannot truly concentrate nor be a good listener while Santana lies, unmoving, nearby.
Hesitantly, she moves to Santana's bedside, running fingers through her matted hair. Her face is still smeared with dried blood and foul dirt, so Brittany makes up her mind- she will fetch some warm water from the galley and cleanse her.
She spends the better part of an hour washing Santana's face, her hair, her neck and her limbs, carefully scrubbing away most of the evidence of her captivity- except for the wounds that mar her caramel skin. She can't reach the front of her, since she lies on her stomach, and her back has already been cleaned, but Brittany feels better- accomplished, as if she was able to show Santana somehow that she was there, if she awakens without her.
Unable to sleep because of her worried thoughts, she decides to go back to the galley- maybe she can busy herself preparing food for the next day. Six new mouths to feed means much more food prepared, but she's subconsciously grateful for the added work. When she reaches the kitchen, lost in thought, she's surprised to find David rummaging under the floorboards.
He greets her over his shoulder, but doesn't stop his search, and Brittany's curious and surprised as she observes him- she had no idea there was a floor compartment in the galley, nor was she probably meant to know. When David finally straightens, he's holding a bottle of what looks like premium, expensive whiskey. He sets the bottle down on the counter, nudges the trap door closed with his foot, then muscles the large barrel of water back over it, which explains why Brittany never discovered the secret earlier.
"I'll have to find a new stash, now," David says, offering her a forced smile as he retrieves his whiskey bottle from the counter. Brittany thinks he looks as broken as she feels. His eyes are rimmed in red and dark, dull. She's never seen him so distraught, and she's moved by the depth of feeling he must surely hold for Santana.
She shrugs and offers him an equally forced smile in return. "Your secret's safe with me."
He nods, then places his hand on her shoulder. "Come with me."
She follows him up to the main deck, then down the ladder to the gunwales and around to the back of the ship, to the fantail. She's never really been back here before, usually too busy and tired while underway to have much time for exploring, but the view of the ship's wake and the proximity to the choppy waves below let her experience the ocean at a much closer distance than anywhere else.
David plops down onto the narrow deck, letting his legs hang out over the edge. He pats the space beside him and Brittany sits, too, mimicking his position. He bites into the cork stopper of the whiskey and pulls it from the bottle, then spits it over the side. Brittany watches it land in the frothy ocean water below as David puts the bottle to his lips and drinks for a long time, the sound of the sloshing liquid audible even over the waves.
When he finally comes up for air, he offers it to her and she accepts without hesitation, lifting the bottle to take a long swig. It's smoother, burns less than every other whiskey she's ever had. With less burn, she can taste actual flavor, which surprises her. She takes another long drink before handing it back to him.
"Shit's good, ain't it?" David drawls as he takes the bottle, regarding it for a moment before downing another long drink. Brittany nods in agreement with his statement, still savoring the taste in her mouth. "Cost me a whole month's pay."
She doesn't need to wonder why he's drinking it now- not with the recent events still fresh on her mind. She thinks about the impact of the people left behind- Mike, and David, and the rest of the crew, and how worried they must've been, and she feels her heart clench in empathy. She wonders how it might've been for them, but she decides she doesn't want to know. Instead, she says with sincerity, "Thanks for sharing it with me."
"You need it as bad as I do- maybe more."
Brittany takes another drink, afraid to voice her fears out loud, but needing reassurance. "Do you think-"
"She'll recover," he says firmly. "She's got to. She's been through worse than this."
Brittany's eyes widen. She can't imagine worse, but she doesn't disbelieve David. He's known Santana far longer than she, and he's witnessed her recovery before. Her head begins to feel fuzzy as the alcohol does its job- she's surprised it's working so fast, but- she doesn't remember the last time she ate, either.
It doesn't matter, though. She gazes out at the pitch black ocean, and the dark sky, where even the stars shine more dimly than usual, it seems. She feels overwhelmingly sad, scared. She glances at David, feeling his energy echo hers, and witnesses a tear slide down his cheek as he stares into the horizon. The sight seems like a trigger for her own tears, and she places her hand on his, offering comfort, but knowing that she doesn't have much comfort to spare. She smiles bitterly as she realizes that, in this moment, they are perfect company for each other, and that there's comfort in their shared sorrow.
They sit in silence for the rest of the night, finishing the bottle.
The night before they reach their home island, Brittany is once again aiding Mike in cleaning Santana's wounds, obediently preparing a fresh layer of medicine in the mortar. She feels encouraged as Mike checks her back, for the man is pleased with the healing progress Santana's made over the previous two days.
"She looks better," he whispers, beckoning her closer. Brittany doesn't know how he can tell- Santana's back still looks pretty awful to her- but that's why he's in charge, and she smashes the herbs. He's just about done cleaning away the remnants of dried medicine when the woman finally stirs, and Brittany nearly drops the bowl she's holding.
"Fuck," Santana mumbles, and Mike laughs in disbelief.
"Hurts, Quartermaster?" he jokes, taking the bowl from Brittany's hands to begin administering its contents.
"Like hell," she groans as he smears the creamy substance on her lacerations. She reaches her left, uninjured hand out, searching. "Britt-"
"I'm here," Brittany breathes, moving into the woman's view and grabbing her hand tightly in both of hers.
"Are you all right?"
Brittany laughs, feeling relief and happiness wash over her, so strong it brings tears to her eyes. "You've been lying for days on your deathbed, and you ask how I am?"
Santana smiles weakly. "It's a legitimate question- and I'm not on any such bed."
Brittany squeezes her hand, smiling so wide her cheeks hurt. She presses her forehead to Santana's, taking a deep breath, enjoying that she's alive, reassuring herself that the moment she is in is real. "I'm well, thank you."
Santana curses again as Mike smears more medicine on her, and Brittany continues to hold her hand tightly, grounding her as he finishes by laying the cloths on her back.
"That should be the final treatment," Mike tells them. "She's recovering nicely."
"Talk about me like I'm not here," Santana mumbles, and Mike and Brittany both laugh, still trying to grasp that Santana's awake after two days of unconsciousness.
Brittany swallows- truly, she's afraid to know all the horrible things Santana endured at the hands of Sylvester, but she also wants to know in order to fuel the fires of revenge burning within her. Still, with Santana only newly awake, she knows it's too soon to relive the ordeal- she should let someone else be the one to ask, the one to ruin the mood. For now, she will simply enjoy the fact that Santana is alive, and they somehow managed to pull off a truly extraordinary escape.
"Britt," Santana whispers, drowsy. "Don't leave..."
When Santana drifts back to sleep, Brittany stays by her side, holding her hand and tenderly stroking her hair for the rest of the night. Despite Santana being asleep- which is no different from the state she was in the previous night- Brittany feels much more comfortable and relaxed in her presence, because she knows it's a different type of sleep; her condition has changed. The thought reassures her as she sits, humming quietly, until duty calls her away with the rising of the sun, which casts hopeful rays through the porthole, making the room- and Brittany's spirits- much brighter.
With the sun climbing ever higher into the sky, Brittany heads to the galley to perform her kitchen duties- preparing the perishable food and supplies for transport onto the island, since the ship is about to moor. She'd left Santana with a kiss on the cheek, but the woman was still sleeping soundly, which was just fine with her. By the time Kurt appears half an hour later, yawning and surprised to see her so early, she's already gathered and packed everything.
"You look worn," Kurt comments as he takes in her demeanor. "Have you been resting?"
Brittany shakes her head. "Sleep has not come easily."
"Britt," he says, firmly, "you went through a lot. You need to rest and heal, too."
She shrugs, unsure of what to say. Her mind hasn't been able to shut off, so how can she sleep?
Once they moor, the ship is unloaded quickly; Elliot, Madison, Kitty and Marley aid in the process, hefting supplies down to the beach. Joseph is blindfolded and escorted to his new cell by Jake, but he doesn't seem upset, and why should he be? His cell is far more comfortable and welcoming than his dirty prison on Sisyp. Mason and Santana are carefully unloaded last, carried on stretchers straight to the infirmary of the fortress, where Mike begins the process of replacing their bandages with fresh ones, now that his supplies are more plentiful. Not long after, Kurt's in the kitchen with Brittany, preparing a celebratory brunch feast, but Brittany cannot find it in her to celebrate. She still feels numb, shut off, and she knows as soon as her duties are finished, she will break away to the infirmary to ensure Santana's comfortable and fed- it's all she can really think about.
"Come on, Mike," Santana groans, sitting up in the infirmary bed painfully. "Tell me you're not gonna keep me locked up here!"
Mike chuckles. "That depends- are you going to stay in your bed and take it easy?" At her hesitation, he laughs again before turning suddenly serious. "You could've died. You still can. You need to give yourself time to recover. Promise me you'll stay in bed-"
"Mike-"
"-until I tell you otherwise, and I'll release you to your quarters."
Santana sighs weakly. "Okay- I promise."
"I mean it, Santana. The danger's not over."
She nods, swallowing thickly. "I know."
She protests when Matt comes in moments later and lifts her under Mike's instruction, carrying her gingerly to her room and setting her down on the bed with the utmost care.
"Thanks," she grumbles, feeling like an overturned crab.
"You really had us for a scare, Master," Matt tells her softly, pausing in the doorway as he leaves. "I'm glad you're okay- we can't do this without you."
Santana doesn't know what to say- she's touched by his concern, so she offers him a weak smile. Then, suddenly alone and very awake, she has no one to distract her from reflecting on her recent trauma, and the even more horrifying knowledge that Sylvester has her identity- her true identity. Quinn betrayed her- and now, she will never be able to live freely.
The pirates use code names to protect their futures- to be able to still live normal lives, in port at least, without fear of pursuit, imprisonment, and execution. Nearly everyone she met knew her as either one persona or the other- never as both. Only those she trusted- which, of those there were very few- knew both of her identities, but now she's been compromised. She will have to be a lot more cautious- she can no longer visit ports where people know either of her personas, not with the price on her head-
She feels tears springing to her eyes; the sting of that particular betrayal hurts worse than her healing wounds, cuts deeper than the lashes of the cat on her skin- because there's a lasting impact, a consequence beyond just torn flesh that heals within a week; Quinn's betrayal will never end. She will always be wanted, hunted- she will never be able to rest, her face known, associated with her identity. She imagines the updated Wanted posters and sobs painfully, imagines the cold looks her normal contacts in port will give her.
The future she had imagined in her mind with Brittany, of them settling down on Argo together, drinking bumbo- she feels it fading. She'd been to Argo, she's known there- and she could never go there with Brittany, she would put her in far too much danger. They would have to go somewhere else, somewhere new- but where could they possibly go that Sylvester's influence hasn't already touched?
The only way to keep her old life, to clear her name, now, would be to kill everyone who wants her dead.
Unless-
She shivers.
The Immortal Spring. Puck's insane mission. They acquired the translator, though, didn't they? They were one step closer to reaching that fabled place, and now she has no choice but to follow through, no matter how crazy. Her happiness, her future is more at stake now than it has ever been.
She desperately wants that future-
(Brittany by her side, lying on the beach under the cool shade of the palm trees)
-and she knows she will do anything to get it.
Noah Puckerman knows he's in the fish net.
His crew's pissed at him, and they have every right to be- his determination nearly got his Quartermaster and two of his own crew killed. He knows they will never understand his reasons for pursuing the Immortal Spring so strongly- they don't know what would cause the feared and esteemed captain of an infamous pirate ship to risk everything for a score.
But deep in his heart, Noah has a reason: he doesn't want to do this anymore.
Though he knows his crew might never understand his actions, he knows he has some amends to make. He has to win back their trust and respect- especially if they are going to continue working together as a crew- so he trudges down the hallway to Santana's room, his stomach tightening with anticipation at the scathing reception he's sure to be greeted with upon his arrival.
He knocks at her door and waits.
The sound rouses Santana from her sleep, and she awakens in surprise; she didn't even realize she'd fallen asleep. "Enter," she calls hoarsely, her heart leaping with hope that her visitor is the person she most wants to see in the world-
-and when the door opens to reveal Puck, her heart sinks at the sight of the last person she wants to see in the world.
"How ya holdin' up?" he asks quietly as he enters, shutting the door behind him.
"Why do you care?" she snaps, her blood beginning to boil, her pulse racing, fueled by anger. She lifts her right hand pointedly, which she can't move due to the fact that her three mangled fingers are splinted. "I'm alive- barely, and no thanks to you."
He sighs, moving closer and pulling up a chair from her small table. He expected her nasty tone, but it still hurts. "Dia-"
"Don't fucking call me that!" she snarls, set off by the reminder of her lost anonymity. "I've told you-"
He holds his hands up in a calming gesture of peace, and Santana feels tears springing to her eyes, the force of her anger so strong it threatens to overtake her. How dare he show up, casually asking how she's doing? Does he not see the state she's in? She knows he gets reports from Mike, so he can't possibly be dull enough to think she's fine. He doesn't even know what she lost, what she's given up for this mission; he doesn't know what she went through, that she can't even take a breath without pain, or-
"Hey..." he says gently, and she looks up at him, her brown eyes wounded, tormented. At the sight of her clearly broken form, her bruised and cut face, his heart clenches painfully, and he feels sadness and regret wash over him. How could he have been so selfish? How could he have put his quartermaster- the woman who's been by his side, his rock, his best friend- in such danger without a second thought?
Is he really such a foolish asshole?
"I'm so sorry," he blurts, bowing his head, feeling his throat tightening with unfamiliar emotion. "I should've never put you in that fucking situation-"
"No shit!"
"-I should've never trusted Quinn, and I should've never let us rush in without more of a plan." He shakes his head, his guilt threatening to overwhelm him as he realizes the sequence of his recent mistakes. Santana listens to his apology, stone-faced, but subconsciously acknowledges the gesture- it's an apology she never expected, after all. "I could've gotten you all killed," he continues sadly. "I just- I really wanted to believe that Lucy's still in there, somewhere- that she's still the girl I fell in love with."
Santana hesitates, feeling pity for her friend despite her rage and resentment. "She hasn't been- not for a long time," she says softly. "Not since she became Quinn."
He coughs, not missing the angry, accusing edge of her voice. "I guess I know that for sure, now."
When she doesn't respond, they sit in tense silence for a moment, before Puck breaks it with, "You ever think about the future?"
Santana wants to shout at him that she has no future now, thanks to him, but she knows it will accomplish nothing, nor will it make her feel better. Despite her rage, she understands the need to mend their relationship if they are to unite the crew under his leadership once more, and recognizes the true meaning behind Puck's effort. So instead of yelling at him, she sighs, relenting, "all the time."
"And what do you see?" he wonders. Then, without waiting for an answer, he volunteers first. "I always saw Quinn and I raising Beth together, finally a family."
"You had that chance-"
Push shakes his head. "I couldn't settle down with nothing. I've been searching for that big score my whole life so that I could retire, and provide for them everything they deserve. I couldn't quit pirating as a nobody- as a loser..."
Santana stares, surprised that Puck has chosen to open up to her now, after all these years. She'd always thought that Puck just wasn't ready for a family, wasn't ready to quit sailing- she had no idea there'd been a deeper reason, because her friend had kept it to himself, buried deep, for years. The revelation makes her look at him differently, questioning if she had ever truly known him, and why he never told her before.
Puck takes a deep breath, the pain and knowledge that he's still pirating, still, in his (and Quinn's) mind, a loser, hard to accept. "But the time keeps passing, you know? And Beth's growing older. And what do I have left, besides this crew?"
Santana doesn't know- she's wondered that same thing many times over the past few weeks, wondered what she's been doing, what all her pirating is for, questioned her motives and where she's going. Were they all on the verge of some big midlife crisis? She hasn't even reached midlife, yet-
Puck stares at an indistinguishable spot in the distance absently. "I don't wanna do this forever, Santana. And if I'm being honest, I never wanted to do this to begin with." He pauses to look at her, and Santana thinks he seems just as tired as she feels. "Remember when we first met? And you asked me how I ended up on the Hellish Scream?"
She nods, the memory coming to the forefront of her mind. It was a small, good memory during a bad time for all of them, but now it's sour, tinted in bittersweet sadness because of her current resentment. "You told me you were on a military ship- a prior Cabin Boy."
Puck smiles a little at her version of the events. "That was- partly true. I was on a military ship, but not a Cabin Boy. The ship was a Dagnian ship. When they took over Liotro, they stole all the boys to recruit them into their army... They snatched me from my mother and sister. I spent 5 months on that ship before the Hellish Scream destroyed it. And obviously, when we returned to Liotro years later, there was nothing left to return to."
Santana bites her lip, averting her eyes. Liotro had been wiped out, just like Matas had been- they had similar tragic backstories, and she hates it. She hates that he's managed to strike a connection with her, because she wants to continue to be angry with him.
Puck sighs. "I never wanted this life. It's just that there's nothing else for me- it's too late. And despite everything, we are already outlaws."
Santana struggles, once again, to come up with a solution, despite knowing that there isn't one other than the solution she deduced already, but she tries, regardless. There has to be a way out, both for herself and for Puck and the crew, but she doesn't have an easy answer. She tries, "we could go somewhere-"
"There's nowhere we could go that they won't eventually find us," Puck admits. "And Quinn knows our identities- she can make our life hell. And anyways, Lycas grows larger every day, with every new conquest. Soon it will have taken much of the free world. What future will we have, then?"
Santana swallows at the finality of his words, but she's not ready to give up and face the truth, yet. "Maybe-"
"Trust me, Santana. I've thought of everything. I've been struggling for months- years, it seems- to find a way to get out of this. But as long as there's a price on our heads, we can never rest. The only way we can secure our future is if we buy them out, and the only way to do that is to find the Immortal Spring. If you want to retire- to live a normal, easy life- this is the only way."
Deep down, she knows he's right, but it's not a good feeling. Knowing she only has one option makes her feel trapped, and she doesn't like it- trapped with only one choice, one path, to secure a future, and that path is not guaranteed, nor is it safe. She doesn't even know if it's truly possible, but she knows that she will have to support Puck and find out. There's too much at stake for her to become complacent in the life she's used to- a life she can no longer have.
Before he departs, Puck offers her assistance, which she refuses, and so he wishes her well, leaving her with her troubling thoughts on the future. She settles down onto her right side, leaning against her pillow and trying to find a position that's comfortable and not agonizing, which proves far more difficult than she imagined. She struggles for a while, feeling exhausted, but with her mind too active to sleep.
When Lord Tubbington hops up onto the bed, she laughs in disbelief, surprised by his appearance. "When did you sneak in here?" she asks gently, reaching to touch his soft fur. His presence makes her feel less trapped, less lonely, and he mows at her in concern as he moves to lick at her cheek.
"I'm a mess, aren't I?"
"Mow."
She laughs weakly, petting him in gratitude with her uninjured hand, and after he inspects her and is reassured that she's alive, he curls up against her stomach and begins purring loudly. The comforting noise calms her, makes her feel peaceful, and soon she begins to feel drowsy from his warmth and his tiny breaths. She pets him absently, smiling as she finally begins to drift into sleep.
"I missed you, too."
Santana doesn't know how much time passes as she slips in and out of painful sleep, plagued by nightmares wherein she is brutally and publicly executed. The death itself doesn't hurt her as much as the look in Brittany's eyes as she watches, for the girl is always present in the nightmares. She tosses restlessly, searching for a comfortable position- as much as she can without aggravating her wounds further. Lord does his best to readjust to her thrashing body, determined to keep her company and watch over her, which she subconsciously observes and appreciates.
When another knock comes, she answers without thinking, and this time, Brittany enters the room, holding a tray with a bowl of hot soup, bread, and her favorite- an apple, sliced into manageable pieces. Her heart flutters at the sight of her lover- seemingly much better off than her- holding the food, feeling grateful and also flattered.
"Hi," Brittany greets warmly, and Santana sits up, wincing from the sharp stabs of pain she feels in her back and internally. Brittany moves closer and crouches next to the bed, setting the tray of food carefully on Santana's lap. She looks up at her, concerned. "Are you in much pain?"
Santana forces a smile, hoping Brittany can't see the agony in her eyes. "Not at all."
Brittany hesitantly smiles, doubtful, but decides to drop the issue as Santana regards the food on her tray. "Thank you, Britt." She smiles in earnest as she sees that next to the bowl, a pretty purple flower rests, and her stomach flips as she recalls how, not long ago, she had jealously wished for such a gesture when David received it from Kurt. And now...
"It looks wonderful," she continues, picking up her spoon and stirring the soup. "Did you make it?" At Brittany's silent nod, she glances at the woman's face and into her blue eyes, which have obvious, heavy bags beneath them. It alarms her, for she knows Brittany has been through trauma that needs to be healed, as well. She also knows that, like her, Brittany will deny weakness, so instead of pressing further, she takes a sip of her soup and decides to sneak around it. "Must you leave soon?"
Brittany shakes her head. "Kurt has released me from duty for the day."
"So early?"
She shrugs. "He's concerned I am not resting enough."
Santana sets her spoon down at the confession. "As am I," she says firmly, her eyebrows furrowing. "You need to sleep, Britt..."
Brittany drops her gaze to the blanket, biting her lip. "I was worried about you."
Concerned, but also feeling warm and- dare she say- cared for, she doesn't know how to answer. Truly, she cannot stop the girl from worrying about her any more than she can stop herself from worrying about Brittany, which she's already determined is impossible. But the fact that someone fears for her the way she does, returns her concern, makes her feel good in a way she's never felt before. Still-
"I hope you see now that I am quite fine," she says casually, picking up her spoon again.
"Oh, is that what I see?" Brittany teases. "That you're fine?"
Santana smiles in spite of herself as she ladles soup into her spoon. "Peak condition."
"Naturally."
As she swallows another mouthful of the soup, she feels warm inside both as a result of the temperature and at the reciprocation of her own feelings. She smiles at Brittany, who watches her with intent, and offers, "this is really delicious, Britt- thank you." At Brittany's slight blush, Santana continues, "the best meal I've had since the last soup you brought me." She smiles, hoping for her words to bring laughter, but as Brittany's face falls, transforming into an expression of devastation, she wonders, "have I misspoke?"
Brittany shakes her head. "No, I just..." She pauses, her throat tightening as tears well up in her eyes. "You almost died, Santana."
"Yet here I sit, very much enjoying the soup you've prepared," Santana reassures, taking another bite. When Brittany doesn't immediately cheer- discreetly wiping at her eyes- Santana once again places her spoon down to reach for Brittany's hand. She pulls it to her chest, placing it over her heart. "Feel proof," she breathes softly. "My heart is still beating." When Brittany shuts her eyes to focus on the feeling, Santana reaches to cup her cheek, leaning forward to kiss her. Brittany returns it, smiling as she feels the pounding beneath her hand speed up at the touch of her lips. Santana pulls back and catches blue eyes in her gaze, then taps Brittany's nose playfully with her index finger. "And you've yet to remind me to return the favor to Quinn."
"And you've yet to explain to me why you hate Quinn, and why she seems to return the sentiment," Brittany counters with another smile.
Santana sighs, patting the bed beside her, then picking up a slice of apple. "I suppose you deserve to know why she sent us to hell." She chews thoughtfully, then begins her story.
"When Lucy was a young girl, she was the daughter of a Duke in Dagni..." Brittany points to herself, and Santana nods. "Yes, like you, she was to be wed to a rich nobleman, though she was not against the marriage."
"She probably wasn't marrying an idiot," Brittany sighs.
Santana laughs. "Maybe. But then Dagni was overtaken by Lycas, and she was given to the enemies' commander as a prize."
"What? It was Lycas who destroyed Dagni?"
"It always is," Santana admits, dipping part of her bread into the soup cautiously.
Brittany shakes her head. "I barely remember it... I was so sheltered."
"That was the old you," Santana jokes. "You've changed- no more shelter."
Brittany grins. "So when did she become the Lionness?"
Santana rolls her eyes. "Not for a while. Now let me tell the story."
Brittany chuckles and settles down against Santana's pillow in response, and Santana takes another bite of her soup before she continues.
"Quinn didn't want to marry the Lycan commander- I mean, who would- so she sold her estate and fled. She ran into Puck when we were ported- we had just formed our crew and we were still saving money to purchase the Tide Ripper at the time. Obviously, a pirate's life sounded appealing to someone who had little control over her own life, and she joined our ship."
"No way- Quinn was part of the Tide Ripper's crew?" Santana nods, and Brittany muses, "so that's why she knows everyone's name."
Santana smiles sourly, unhappy with the reminder of her status, but she knows that Brittany is still unaware of the details and mentioned it unintentionally, so she takes a deep breath and pushes the ill feeling away. "Only for a time. She got pregnant with Beth, and begged Puck to settle down, but he- well, he dumped her at the first port we pulled into." At Brittany's horrified expression, Santana adds, "well what would she have done on a ship while she was pregnant? Or with a newborn? It's a dangerous atmosphere, Britt- he didn't want that for her."
"That's fair, I guess... But then how does she know Sylvester?"
"Now that I don't know," Santana admits. "But after she had Beth, she stopped going by Lucy and became the Lioness, with the ship, and most of the crew, that she has now."
"So she's... a pirate?"
"Not really- not in the same way we are. She's more... careful, I'd say. She skirts the line of legality, she follows the rules, so she's never been officially classified as a pirate- but don't let that be the determining factor; she does the same shit we do, just on a more controlled scale. She plans her targets, has some sort of strategy that she follows. It's why the rozzers love her, and why Sylvester doesn't hunt her down. She's made herself into the fierce, bitchy legend she is now."
Brittany bites her lip, hesitating. "And what about you and Quinn? What happened with you?" She holds her breath, afraid of the answer.
"A mistake," Santana whispers, and Brittany releases the breath she'd been holding, "long after she became the Lioness. We were drunk- lonely. I was- well, I was different. Quinn wants only to control, to own- and I will never be either of those things. I didn't want to belong to anyone but myself."
Feeling hurt in a way she can't describe, Brittany begins to clear Santana's tray away, but Santana grabs her hand, startling her. "Don't misunderstand," she breathes. "That was a long time ago- and before I met you."
Brittany blushes, her heart pounding. "Have your feelings on that subject changed, then?"
"Perhaps." Santana smiles before she remembers that she will never have the future she wants, unless-
When Brittany stifles a yawn into her shoulder, Santana laughs. "Was my story boring?"
"Forgive me, I just-"
"You're exhausted, Britt." Santana frowns, her eyebrows returning to their furrowed state. "You need rest."
"As I've said, I've been fraught with worry-"
"Lie with me, then."
Brittany freezes, unsure if she heard right, but a look into Santana's confident, serious face confirms that she did. She swallows, unsure how to answer, but Santana speaks again, slightly less confident.
"To ease your worry, only- nothing more."
Brittany's heartbeat races in hope. The thought of lying with Santana, in her bed- of falling asleep beside her- has been a constant craving of hers. Now, with the offer before her, she cannot refuse, nor does she wish to. She's too tired to argue, and there is truth to Santana's logic; perhaps being in close proximity to the wounded pirate- on hand to check on her condition should her fear spike- will allow her peace of mind enough to relax into sleep. She nods in acceptance of the offer, and Santana visibly relaxes beside her, revealing that she'd been equally as nervous about Brittany's response.
Silently, Brittany climbs off of Santana's bed, then slips off her pants and her boots, letting the garments carelessly pile onto the floor. She removes Santana's tray of empty dishes from her lap, relocating them to the table as Santana turns onto her side, scooting back to make room for Brittany beside her. As she slides under the thick, soft blanket to face Santana, feeling the warmth of her body heat, Brittany's worry already begins to ease just from knowing that Santana at least ate a hearty meal.
Santana leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to Brittany's forehead, and she uses her uninjured fingers to stroke through her silky blonde hair, the movement calming, soothing her. Brittany feels the fatigue instantly roll through her as she sinks deeper down into the soft, inviting mattress of Santana's bed. When Santana shifts closer, her good arm looping protectively around her waist, Brittany sighs, nuzzling her face against Santana's neck, breathing her in.
The deep, even- though slightly ragged- breathing of Santana surrounding her begins to lull her to sleep; the warmth, the softness, the way Santana holds her securely- all of it sends her into a blissful state of relaxation.
She mumbles, "I never thought..."
And Santana silences her by pressing a kiss beneath her ear, whispering, "Shh, Britt... I've got you."
Brittany falls asleep moments later, a small smile stuck on her lips.
Santana's bored.
She knew she would be, but there's only so much she can do in her bed, only so many books she can read before she goes insane. David had been by to visit her, bringing her a flask of rum that she'd regretfully declined, remembering her promise to Mike and to Brittany to take her recovery seriously. Sugar had visited, and Kurt, and Brittany had brought her meals, but she'd been bedridden for an innumerable amount of days since they'd been back on the island and she missed the blonde. It had never occurred to her before to wonder how busy Brittany's schedule is, but as hours pass and she sees the new pirate only at meal times, she wishes that the woman didn't have so many duties. So, frustrated and yearning for more time, she decides to leave the stifling prison of her room and finally venture out- hopefully Mike won't be too upset at her. Besides, her back has scabbed over already and she's feeling a lot better. Surely several days of rest is enough to keep her promise- to at least elevate her from the danger of dying- isn't it?
She stands, her legs feeling weak from misuse, and pulls on trousers for the first time in days. She painfully slides on a black shirt, her muscles stiff, and buttons the front as she carefully steps into boots. Her movements are slow, cautious, conscious of her tender back and its fragile proclivity to reopen her wounds. She doesn't want to spend more time in bed, nor at the infirmary- the thought fills her with dread and guides her actions with attentiveness.
She brushes tangles out of her dark, impossibly messy hair, sure that she probably doesn't smell the greatest, either. On second thought- she should probably bathe.
She makes her way to her bath and methodically cleans herself, scrubbing her skin until it's red- with the exception of her wounded areas, which she gently cleans with care. Its a slow process, considering she still does not have use of her right hand, but she's proud of her progress. The hot water rejuvenates her, and in combination with all the rest she's received, she feels her strength nearly returned- but even if she didn't, she decides she can't spend another day bedridden.
Once satisfied with her hygiene, she returns to her room and redresses, then, without thinking about where she's going, makes her way to the galley, searching for her favorite person in the whole world. Her smile widens as she spots Brittany exactly where she expected: in the kitchen stirring a giant bowl of batter.
Brittany's eyes light with joy when she sees her, but just as quickly, she frowns. "Should you be up?"
Santana shrugs, regretting the movement instantly when her back screams at her in a small shot of pain. "I was going crazy in my room," she admits.
Brittany pauses in her stirring to smile over at her, and it's then that Santana notices the smudge of flour across her right cheek, and it makes her smile in return. "So eager to return to your ship duties?"
Shaking her head slightly, Santana moves closer. "Eager to return to you." The admission takes Brittany by surprise, and a blush spreads across her cheeks. "I missed you," she breathes, and Brittany smiles wider.
"I missed you, too."
When Santana closes the distance and kisses her, Brittany feels her breath catch in her chest, a surge of emotions rising, reminding her of how long it's been since she'd felt Santana's lips on hers. A low moan rises from her throat, and she reaches forward, conscious of Santana's wounds, and grips at the belt at her waist, tugging her flush against her.
Santana presses closer, and Brittany's back hits the counter. She slides her hands up to cup Santana's face, holding her sweetly as Santana's tongue slips out to taste her lips, and then Brittany's right hand moves to tangle in the hair at the back of her head, her left sliding down to grab a fistful of her shirt. It's harder than she anticipated, not wrapping her arms around Santana's body, but as her heart pounds and arousal begins to flood her system, she's grateful that she even has Santana at all.
Santana's kiss grows hungrier, fiercer, and Brittany matches her intensity, her hips pressing forward instinctively, searching for friction. Santana's arms wrap around her and crush her against her, even in her weakened, healing state, and Brittany longs to be even closer, desperate to reassure herself that Santana is alive and well, kissing the life out of her, and-
The sound of Kurt clearing his throat makes Santana pull back slightly, and she struggles to catch her breath, breathing heavily as she rests her forehead against Brittany's. Brittany gently strokes fingers through her hair before turning to Kurt with a sheepish grin, wondering what he must be thinking. When Kurt raises an inquisitive eyebrow, trying not to smile, Brittany bites her lip in embarrassment.
Once Santana slows her pounding heart and catches her breath, she licks her lips, finally lifting her gaze to Brittany's. "I should go," she whispers.
Brittany frowns, knowing Santana's words are true, but hating that they are. She nods slightly, and Santana offers her a smile before pressing another slow, searing kiss to her lips.
"Supper?" she asks, hopeful.
Brittany nods again, and Santana pulls away, her unapologetic gaze meeting Kurt's calmly, which surprises Kurt. She acknowledges him with a nod, and he grins.
"Glad to see you up moving around, Quartermaster."
Santana cringes. "Don't tell Mike," she mumbles as she moves past him to the door. She gives Brittany one last smile before making her way out of the galley and back to her room.
With Santana gone, Kurt turns to Brittany, who's resumed stirring her batter.
"So, I see it's going well," he comments with a sly grin, crossing slowly to the oven to begin firing it up.
Brittany blushes again, shrugging noncommittally as she checks the batter for consistency- it's done. She brings the bowl over to Kurt at the oven, and he pauses; her lack of an answer does not go unnoticed by him, which indicates that maybe it's not going well, after all.
"Or is it?" he asks gently.
"It- is," Brittany admits hesitantly, but Kurt can tell there's more she intends to say, so he waits, giving her his attention. She sighs. "It's obvious I can't stay away from her."
"You never have," he chuckles, recalling the many times he'd told her to stay away from Santana, and the many times that she blatantly ignored his advice.
Brittany smiles, recalling those times, too, though they feel like a lifetime ago- and maybe they are, considering she is a pirate now, and so much has changed between them-
"But?" Kurt prompts, and Brittany considers her batter, willing it to answer for her. When it doesn't speak, she sighs.
"There's still something missing," she admits softly. "But I am trying to be patient."
Kurt nods in encouragement- there's no denying Santana has made a lot of progress. Even he can observe the shift in their dynamic, in their interactions. He knows it will still take more time, but it seems they have at least communicated- and that's a start.
With Mike's blessing, Santana's deemed well enough to move around their fortress days later, and it seems like Puck wastes no time gathering his officers and Joseph- who's also made a decent recovery- into the chart room for the culmination of their recent mission. He had struggled to remain patient over the past week, resisting the urge to bring the map down to Joseph's prison cell and thrash the man until he cooperated, but he knew that he needed to earn back the trust of his officers, so as much as he hated it, he waited until his whole team could be present before he continued with the next phase. Besides- he wanted to include them. He may have never wanted to be a pirate, but the camaraderie of his ship is what made it bearable, year after year.
Matt brings Joseph into the chart room and sits him down in a chair across the table from Puck. Santana sits stiffly in the chair to the right of her captain, mostly recovered- her right hand is still bound together, her rib still aches, and the muscles in her back are sore as they slowly repair themselves, but she's mostly back to normal, otherwise.
On the way to his seat next to her, David pauses by her chair to lean in and whisper, "Ain't you glad you survived for this?"
Santana sighs.
"Now, Joseph," Puck starts casually once his team is present, "you may already know why you're here with us, or you may not. But there's a reason we got you out of Sylvester's dungeon."
Joseph nods, his expression giving nothing away. Santana studies him for the first time, surprised at how young the boy is, and she wonders how he got mixed up in something like the Dead Gate, and Dlobrohin. "You want me to translate something," the man guesses, and Puck grins, gesturing to Jake, who rolls the parchment map- the phony- out onto the chart table. Joseph gasps when he sees it. Santana stares hard at the map, once again pleased that Puck is only presenting the fake- as the real map is made of canvas- but that means he must be expecting aggression, so why are they wasting time?
"Impossible!" Joseph hisses in a whisper, obviously unable to distinguish between a fake map and the real one. Just what is Puck trying to prove?
"Not just something," Puck corrects smugly. "The map of the Fig Sack."
"It's F'ui'hg Saa'hk," the man growls, offended.
Arty leans in to mutter, "he does speak it."
Encouraged, Puck smiles, spreading his hands wide in apology. "As you said."
"How did you get this?" Joseph demands, his eyes narrowed in accusatory anger, his teeth clenched.
"Through a lot of effort," Arty answers. He taps his ink pen on the sheet of blank parchment that lies in front of him, prepared to take extensive notes. "But the important thing is that we have it-"
"-and that you're going to translate it for us," Puck commands, his voice no longer casual or carefree. "And in return, we will set you free."
"Free?" Joseph asks, incredulous. "Just for reading this?"
Puck nods. "It's very important to us. We have sacrificed a lot to get it- and you."
"Understood," Joseph answers cautiously. He hesitates only a moment before he answers, "I'll do it."
Sounds of relief ripple through the pirate officers, and Puck smiles charmingly, feeling emboldened by the positive energy of his crew. "Great- we can start right now."
Santana watches Joseph carefully as he pulls the map closer, inspecting it. She doesn't know how or why, but something seems off about him- though she doesn't know how to describe what that something is-
Then before anyone can breathe or move, Joseph takes the map and tears it, shredding it as fast as he can.
Matt's grabbing him a moment later, twisting his arm behind his back and pressing his face against the table while the man laughs as if possessed.
"You'll never reach the Dead Gate!" Joseph screams, thrashing beneath Matt's hold. "Imposters! The sacred treasure is not meant for savages!"
David throws his weight onto him soon after, cursing, and Puck nods. "As I thought," he mutters to Santana as David and Matt struggle to control Joseph's convulsing body. "Damn. I knew it wouldn't be that easy- anyone part of the Fig Sack can't be trusted."
"F'ui'hg Saa'hk!" Joseph froths, and David hits him with the blunt part of his axe, sending him into unconsciousness.
"There's a reason they were hunted into the darkness," Arty agrees, adjusting his glasses. "Their rituals..." He shakes his head. "Nasty stuff."
Having watched the whole exchange quietly, Santana stands suddenly, regretting the action when pain flashes over her- she needs to stop doing that. "This is what I risked my life for?" she hisses, whirling on Puck. She storms out, with a scathing, figure it out, Guppy, thrown over her shoulder, and as she walks, she's overtaken by anger so strong she feels like crying. Impulsively, she wants to see Brittany, but she's not certain she won't devolve into a pile of tears, and she's not ready to lose herself before Brittany in that way yet. She goes, instead, to her room, slamming the door in annoyance. Lord immediately jumps up from the bed where he'd been dozing, and at the sight of Santana pacing, saunters over to her to offer himself as comfort.
Frustrated, her angry thoughts amplified, she scoops up Lord without a thought and holds him to her chest. He begins purring immediately, and she storms over to the bed and sits, still cradling the cat.
"Why is he so stupid?" she demands. Lord mows in answer, and she confirms that he doesn't know, either. She rubs her temple with her good hand, feeling a headache beginning, the result of her stress and anger. She might have to go to the kitchen to beg Brittany for some special tea, though the thought of drinking the disgusting drink repulses her enough to power through the headache instead.
Her thoughts race, tangle, crash. Did she really risk her life for an uncooperative member of an unholy cult, just for him to spit in her face? If Puck knew Joseph wouldn't cooperate, what's his next plan going to entail? Will she have to go perform some other impossible feat, like removing all the salt from the ocean, or stealing a sunken ship from Davey Jones?
A sudden knock at her door reveals Brittany, obliviously bringing her lunch, and she forces a smile- genuinely glad to see the woman but knowing she's not the best company at the moment. "Thank you, Britt," she mumbles as she accepts her cloth-wrapped sandwich, setting it down on the table.
"Are you okay?" Brittany asks, revealing that perhaps she was not oblivious, after all. "David just came to the kitchen awfully upset- did something happen?"
Santana nods. "Joseph is being unhelpful- but we knew he would be, he's part of the Fig Sack, for fuck's sake."
"It's called the Fig Sack?" Brittany wonders, laughing in disbelief despite the tense mood of her partner.
Santana can't help the small smile that comes to her lips. "It's not. But I don't speak Dlobrohin."
"I certainly hope not- or we wasted a lot of time."
They laugh together for a moment; Santana feels the majority of her rage disperse, a result of the effect Brittany has on her. But then, the origins of the conversation return to her, and she sighs irritably, sitting back down on the edge of her bed to try and calm herself. "I just don't know why Puck doesn't have a plan to deal with him already, if he knew this would happen. He drives me absolutely insane with fury."
"That's frustrating," Brittany agrees, moving closer, then sinking to her knees on the floor before Santana, placing her hands soothingly onto Santana's thighs. Immediately, Santana's heartbeat picks up speed at the action- she may be angry but she's not immune to Brittany's touch, and she gazes into endless blue eyes.
"Let me help you unwind," Brittany breathes before leaning in and teasingly biting Santana's lower lip. Santana's breath hitches, and as Brittany tilts to kiss her neck, her hands reach for Santana's belt, and Santana swallows nervously. Brittany can't mean-
"I've been wanting this for a while, but you haven't been well..."
"Britt," Santana says breathlessly, her heart pounding in her chest from hope and arousal and nervousness as Brittany deftly slips her belt and trousers open and begins to tug them down; she suddenly feels self-conscious, an unfamiliar feeling in a moment like this. Brittany guides her trousers down to her ankles, exposing her bare legs, and Santana trembles in anticipation when she leans forward and just barely kisses the wound Sebastian's knife had made- a signature that was never finished, a mark that's mostly healed. Santana gasps at the feeling, the sensation of Brittany's soft lips against her skin unlike anything she'd ever imagined or, she admits, gotten herself off to in the past.
"How did this happen?" Brittany asks in a whisper against her thigh, and Santana shivers, her hips rocking up involuntarily in response.
"Ah-" she hesitates, her foggy brain struggling to recall an experience she had pushed from memory. "In Sisyp, my torturer-" she sucks in a sharp breath as Brittany's tongue darts out to taste her skin, sliding just below the wound. "It was the beginning of his mark-" Brittany kisses it again, and the mixture of pain and pleasure makes Santana squirm, stalling in her words. "Britt-" she whimpers as Brittany's mouth moves higher, closer to her sex. She swallows, struggling to breathe, as Brittany's fingers hook into the waistband of her thin black undershorts and tug them down her legs, revealing her soaked, aching sex.
Brittany releases the breath she'd been holding- she's never really seen a woman's sex up close before, but she can't deny that Santana is beautiful, and the sight of her, completely exposed, appeals to her, invites her to lean forward-
Santana's hips buck up the second Brittany's tongue touches her slick flesh, and they both moan- Brittany at the taste, Santana at the fact that Brittany is performing such an action on her, and both of them at the way it makes them feel intimate.
Brittany takes her time exploring, enjoying the taste and smell, and marveling at how wonderful it feels to experience being the one giving- in the back of her mind, she's upset that she's gone so long without it. She experiments with different strokes of her tongue, finding the ones that drive Santana crazy above her, and enjoying being immersed between Santana's legs.
Santana struggles not to grab Brittany's hair, struggles not to take control, and forces herself to just lean back on her hand and enjoy the pleasure Brittany's mouth gives her, to let her set the pace. She's not in any hurry, but her sex is aching, and she's desperate for release. The fact that this is even happening has ramped her arousal up beyond anything she's felt before, and as Brittany's lips wrap around her clit and she begins to suck, in an attempt to mimic the feelings Santana's induced in her in the past, Santana feels her orgasm approaching at a rapid speed. Unable to resist touching Brittany any longer, she tangles her fingers in the hair at the back of Brittany's head, clenching her hair tightly but not painfully as her thighs begin to tremble with tension, her hips lifting off the bed slightly as she rushes closer.
The gentle pressure of Santana's hand on her head encourages Brittany, and even though her tongue is tired from motions it's never before performed, she's determined to give Santana the release she deserves. She licks strongly, sensing that Santana is close by the way her muscles have tightened, and she looks up through her lashes, her gaze locking with Santana's, sharing the moment with her.
It hits her suddenly and powerfully, and Santana's crying out her release, trying to exercise restraint as her hips rut upwards. Brittany moans, ravenously swallowing the abundance of wetness in her mouth, and finally understanding why Santana has been so hooked on her taste- she already wants more.
After a moment, Santana pets Brittany fondly, caressing the top of her head, then her cheek, then rubs her thumb over her bottom lip as she catches her breath and her body stops clenching, trembling.
"Britt-" she starts, but she doesn't know what to say to describe it. Her pulse is still racing.
Brittany smiles, resting her cheek on Santana's thigh, opposite of her healed wound. "Feel better?"
Santana laughs, breathless. "Worlds." She swallows, her heart hammering, and takes deep breaths. "That was fantastic," she finally manages.
Brittany gently traces her fingers along the path of her wound, just below it, and Santana shivers, catching Brittany's blue, concerned eyes. "What is it?"
"Does it bother you? The scar?"
Santana shrugs carelessly. "I have many scars."
"I suppose," Brittany says, wistful. "I know of only this one."
Santana smiles fondly. "Someday you will know them all."
Someday.
Brittany sighs, longing to know Santana in such an intimate manner- sooner than someday. She wishes for her lips to become familiar with every inch of Santana's skin- to know her as no one else- but she reminds herself to continue being patient. She plants a soft, loving kiss to the top of Santana's bare thigh, then rises to her feet.
"I've shirked my duties long enough- I should return to the kitchen before Kurt comes searching for me."
Santana laughs a little, regretful that Brittany must leave her. All she wants is to return the favor, to suck Brittany to completion, and then fall into bed with her, naked and tangled in ecstasy.
But as Brittany departs with a soft kiss on her cheek, Santana's also grateful for the space, for she knows she's still not ready to make her wishes a reality yet.
"Everybody's mad at you," Brittany tells Joseph casually as she hands him his dinner through the bars of his cell- a roll and a flask of water, which he refuses. She sets the food down in his cell anyway- just in case he gets hungry later.
"Why do I care?" he snaps. "Do whatever you want to me, but I'll never translate the map. You will never get your hands on the Immortal Spring- it will forever be out of your reach!"
Brittany shrugs. "Fine with me. Just thought you'd like to leave here at some point."
Joseph laughs. "As if savage pirates would keep their word- they'd sooner kill me than set me free."
"I thought so, too, when I was a prisoner here."
"You?" he demands. Then he looks at her, disgusted, as if seeing her differently. "And how many times did they ravage you before you agreed to be their harlot?"
Brittany smiles patiently. "They never touched me. They fed me, and trained me, and sure, I worked my ass off for my freedom, but when the time came and I'd earned it, they gave it to me, no questions asked. I chose to stay because I- love them. And they have given me a life beyond what I ever thought possible in Lycas-"
"You were a royal of Lycas?" Joseph asks, surprised. At Brittany's nod, he continues, "and you chose this over a life in the palace?"
"There's more to life than wealth."
"Is that why you search for the Dead Gate?" Joseph sneers. "Because there's more to life than wealth?"
Brittany shrugs again. "I am part of this crew, but I do not desire immortality, nor the clout that comes with its discovery."
Joseph tilts his head, trying to decide whether to believe her, and finally deciding that she seems genuine. "You're not like the other pirates."
"We don't all fit the billet," Brittany says as she turns to leave. "Enjoy your bread."
"Wait-"
She pauses, and Joseph moves closer, grabbing the bars of his cell and peering at her intently in the low light. "You say that if I translate the map they will be true to their word? Will you swear it on your father's life?"
Brittany laughs. "My father means nothing to me, but even if he did, I would swear on his life. They are true to their word. So long as you are true to yours- you do speak Dlobrohin, don't you?"
"Yes- although," Joseph sighs. "I wasn't a true member of the F'ui'hg Saa'hk. They were all wiped out before I was fully initiated."
Brittany raises her eyebrows in surprise- so that old lady in the tavern on Perdic was telling the truth. But how could she have possibly known? How did she fit into the Dead Gate? "And there's- no one else?"
"I'm the last one that I know of," he whispers.
"Then why cling to it?"
"They are all I have," Joseph admits. "I was born with them, and they were the only family I've ever known. I can't let them down by helping pirates-"
"They're all dead, anyway," Brittany points out bluntly. "I doubt they care all that much."
Joseph snorts. "You're a fool. Their spirits surround us! They watch my every move-"
"Seems like kind of a boring thing to do after death," Brittany comments thoughtfully. "Have you ever spoken with them?"
"I speak with them every day, during my ritual-"
"And do they answer?"
Joseph shuts his mouth. His eyes dart around before he confesses in a whisper, "never."
Brittany moves closer, offering Joseph an encouraging smile. "I think you should start a new life," she suggests. "I think you should leave this place, and leave the Fig Sack behind with it."
Joseph glares at her mispronunciation, but doesn't correct her. He shakes his head slowly. "How?"
"Translate the map, and then let the language die here- let it go."
Joseph angrily pulls away from the bars and begins pacing. "You're just trying to trick me into translating the map!"
Brittany holds up her hands, showing her palms peacefully. "No tricks here. But if you change your mind, and you want to start that new life we talked about, just let me know. I'll see you in the morning for your water ration."
"So you've changed your mind?" Puck growls, days later. Kurt had informed him that Joseph was ready to cooperate, and though he doubted the sincerity, he was in no position to refuse. They hadn't been able to come up with another option for translating the map, and so once again they all sit, much better prepared, in the chart room.
Joseph nods. "Yes. Your harlot convinced me."
"Who?" David wonders in a loud whisper. Santana shrugs.
"She said you would keep your word to release me."
"She's right," Arty encourages.
David shoots the the man a glare, but Puck holds up his hand to prevent an argument. "Even after that shit you pulled the other day, we are willing to let it slide- if you cooperate from now on."
"My life is in your hands," Joseph agrees with a helpless shrug.
Puck turns to Arty, motioning for him to take over, and Arty smiles in response. "Okay then, Joseph- why don't you tell me what this says?" He slides a piece of parchment across the table to him, watching him expectantly.
Joseph studies it for a moment before he looks up. "Nothing."
"Tolju this is a waste of time," David growls, raising his voice and slamming his palm on the table threateningly to punctuate.
"Now, Joseph-" Puck warns, but Joseph cuts in, genuinely,
"No, really- Dlobrohin is a language of marks. If I could just see the map-"
"You already destroyed it once!" David says hotly, and Arty lifts his hand.
"Let's let him see it. We are far better prepared now, and Joseph knows that there will be consequences this time if he doesn't cooperate," he says, sliding the canvas map across the chart table towards Joseph.
Mike and Matt both tense on either side of Joseph as he moves his hand to the map, tracing his fingers over the writing, pointing out dots and lines that look like stray errors, but are in fact part of the language. He picks up the pen and begins to correct Arty's original writing by adding the marks, hyper aware that the eyes of every pirate in the room are boring into him while he works. Once he's finished, he scribbles the translation of the words just below it, then slides it back to Arty, who reads it aloud:
"between three points of dragon's bight
during time of blackest night
on day devoid of the moon's light
find the gate"
He pushes his spectacles back up his nose as he looks up from the writing. "Nice of it to rhyme."
"The Dragon's Bight?" Matt groans. "That journey's impossible-"
"Ships disappear there and don't return," David agrees.
"Probably because they go through the Dead Gate, idiot," Santana says affectionately, reaching to punch him gently in the shoulder. "Though- it is far. Farther than we've ever traveled." She looks at Puck. "We will need a lot of supplies."
"There's more," Joseph explains. He takes the scrap parchment back from Arty and begins jotting down the random snatches of writing along the edges of the map, translating as he goes.
"beware The Cleanse
or life everlasting
falls from grasp. Huh," Joseph shrugs. "I'm not sure what The Cleanse is."
"You mean you never learned about it in Fig Sack school?" Santana snipes, and David laughs, shooting her an amused look.
"What're these?" Arty asks, pointing to more pieces of phrases along the corners.
"Directions on how to get to the Three Points," Joseph muses. "Though- they don't make much sense." He scratches his head, then writes them down anyway.
Arty scans his eyes down the parchment, silently mouthing the words to himself and shaking his head. "They seem like astrological cues."
"Can you make sense of them?" Puck demands.
Arty huffs. "I need to consult my star chart, but I'm positive I can, given some time."
"Excellent. Is that all?"
"That's all," Joseph confirms. "Although..." He points to the raised emblem in the corner of the map, the seal that marks it as official- the snake with wings. "I would look under this seal, when you're ready for your journey. The F'ui'hg Saa'hk reveals the way," he recites. Santana stares at him. Does he mean to say-
She takes a deep breath as Puck stands to pat him on the back, and the other pirates ponder over the new information. She knows this journey is about to get a lot more complicated.
"I thought the Dead Gate is the way," Brittany wonders, portioning out dough into rolls and listening as Santana relates the most recent information from the officer meeting. "There's another way?"
"No- I think it means that the actual way isn't that easy," Santana sighs, exasperated. Every time they discover something new, everything else gets complicated. Why can't it ever just be simple?
"Sounds like a real drag," Elliot comments from his spot at the stove, stirring a pot of stew. Santana blinks at him in response, and Brittany laughs at the obvious question written all over her face.
"Kurt told him he could work in the kitchen if he wanted better rations," she explains, deftly rolling her dough portions into strips that she can fancy into knots. She pauses to look at Santana, wiping her hands on her apron. "So, now what? We go on another trip?"
"A long trip," Santana groans. "Longer than we've ever done. The Dragon's Bight is very far, and very dangerous- not many people have ever been there. No one on this crew has... I'm not even sure what to expect."
"You need help," Elliot points out, and Santana once again stares at him.
"Don't you have some soup to stir?" Santana snaps.
"It's stew," Elliot corrects, "and yes. But I couldn't help overhearing-"
"And commenting," Santana mutters.
"-and I think I can help you. I know someone who's been to the Three Points- and she can definitely show you the way. She's a mystic- one of the last true mystics of Cyre, and-"
"And where, exactly, does this mystic reside?" Santana asks with a roll of her eyes, not even sure she buys Elliot's information.
Elliot lifts a ladle of stew to his mouth to taste, slurping it off the spoon and then smacking his lips, and Santana clenches her jaw in annoyance. Then, he says, "On an island, just off the southern tip of Orias."
"Orias?" Brittany swallows thickly. "That's where the Lycan colony is- and my brother."
Before Santana can respond, a distressed Kurt bursts into the kitchen, and he quickly snatches up a knife.
"Elliot," he snaps, "come with me, now!"
"Are you all right?" Brittany asks, sensing that Kurt is clearly upset by something.
"Kurt," Santana starts, observing the same, "what's happened?"
Kurt takes a deep breath, visibly shaken.
"It's Joseph," he says, distraught. "He's dead."
ZAYUM.
Okay well there's obviously still a lot of action and adventure (and fluff) coming up so, there's that! XD I'm trying to stay on a 3-month updating schedule, so we shall see; here's hoping that 2021 is a great year for all of you~
Review if you'd like, but if not, I'll just see you next time! :D!