A/N: Hi, everyone. :) I hope you're all doing well, staying safe, and enjoying your lives!

Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, said hi, tumbled, or flailed over the last chapter. I appreciate you all, and you're the best! :D

This chapter sets a lot of stuff up for the coming chapters... we are almost there. Enjoy~

Not a full hour had passed since Santana had brought the news of Joseph's death to her captain, with the result being that she is once again stuck in an officer meeting that Puck had immediately ordered, wishing she was elsewhere- especially when the topic of conversation is turned towards such grim news. The air in the chart room is thick with tense fear, a feeling that's grown far too common for her liking in recent weeks. Normally she would be carelessly fiddling with her carving knife, but she's too on edge to focus on anything but her equally uncomfortable crew as she watches Puck, who's rubbing his forehead in annoyance beside her.

"So, again- you have no idea how- but you're sure he's dead?"

"As sure as the last time you asked," David mutters under his breath, and Santana's jaw clenches with irritation, both at the repeated questions from Puck- all with similar answers- and at the mysteriousness of the situation under discussion. The fact that none who saw the dead man- David, Kurt, Elliot, Mike- could discern what had caused his sudden, violent passing did not sit well with neither her nor her captain, but she was at least not dumb enough to ask the same questions repeatedly, hoping for a sudden, miraculous explanation.

Mike sighs in frustration. "Yes. I checked his body- well, what was left of it. It was..." He trails off, shaking his head. "No one could've survived that."

Puck leans back in his chair, releasing a slow, steady breath, processing Mike's words- again- but still struggling to believe them. "Well, fuck. How could this've happened? And right under our noses, in our own holding cell?" He glances at Santana, and the specific raise of his eyebrow alerts her to what he's about to ask before the words leave his mouth. "Do y' think-"

"Sabotage? No," Santana answers easily, trying to distract herself by examining her nails. "No one has a real motive."

Matt scoffs, "You mean other than the kid being creepy as all hell..." and earns a nervous chuckle from the other officers. Santana offers him a small smile- just an upturned corner of her mouth- but she can sense the overwhelming fear hanging in the air, and it keeps her in a heightened, anxious state.

"So, none of our own," Puck muses, tapping his chin with his finger in thought, the only one in the room who doesn't seem to be affected by the grim atmosphere- or, more likely, is too clueless to notice. He catches Mike's eyes, then David's. "Do you think it's possible he might have done it himself?"

The pirates fall eerily silent, and Santana senses the tense atmosphere grow even more tense from Puck's suggestion. Mike glances at David, who presses his lips together firmly, avoiding Puck's challenging gaze, and Santana studies their faces as they lose themselves in recent, unpleasant memories. Finally, after long, awkward moments of silence, Arty clears his throat.

"Perhaps," he starts, his tone optimistic in an attempt to lift the mood, "it's time for us to come to terms with the fact that there may be other forces at work, here."

Puck rolls his eyes. "'Other forces?' Speak sense! There's no such thing as-"

"You don't know that," David interrupts, hackles raised. "People don't just..." He shakes his head, frowning. "Somethin' happened to that poor bastard."

"And you think it was something supernatural?" Puck demands, raising a skeptical eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

David shrugs angrily. "I'm not sayin' it was- I'm just sayin' we don't fuckin' know. I don't think he did what- y'know- he did- of his own right mind. I'm just sayin' we can't rule out the possibility."

At Puck's insistent noise of disbelief, Santana releases an exasperated breath. "Listen, Guppy- if you deny it's possible, then none of this-" she ticks the items off on her fingers, "the Dead Gate, the Fig Sack, the damn Immortal Spring- is real, either."

Her reasoning finally shuts his mouth, and he nods, lost once again in the realm of thought- an obviously unfamiliar place to him, she concludes. David and Mike proffer Santana a grateful smile, and she nods subtly at them in acknowledgment. Taking a moment to compose herself, she sifts through her shifting thoughts, knowing that her crew is spooked, and with good reason. As David so aptly put it, something happened to Joseph, something they don't know and may never know- but if Puck has nothing productive to turn their thoughts to, it will once again fall on her to provide purpose and distraction from unanswerable questions.

"Look," she starts gently, "the one thing we can agree on is that we have no idea what we are dealing with. So we've got to be more careful-"

"Or abandon the cursed mission altogether," Matt mutters sullenly, crossing his arms.

Puck barks out a harsh laugh. "Not a chance."

"Regardless, we have a lot to do," Santana continues, glaring pointedly at her captain. "The Three Points are far, and we have yet to start making preparations for such a long journey."

Catching on to her attempt to distract the crew by focusing their thoughts elsewhere, Arty nods, sitting up straighter in his chair, his eyes shining with excitement at the prospect of their future travels. "A capitol idea! I've been considering the length, and I propose we stop in Phiny first to gather supplies."

Mike shakes his head. "A fat lot of good that'll do when we have no clue what awaits us at the Three Points."

"That's also been addressed- Elliot gave word of an ally he knows down near the southern tip of Orias that can offer us the information we seek."

"Orias?" David sputters.

"An equally far journey in the wrong direction," Matt groans, covering his eyes with his hand, shaking his head.

"And how well do we trust Elliot, anyway?" David grumps. "To go on such a venture..."

Arty adjusts his glasses on his nose. "Well, Elliot did help us get Joseph out in the first place-"

"An action I'm still so grateful for," David growls.

"His trustworthiness isn't in question," Puck decides firmly. "But still- we can try and have Kurt talk to him- maybe find out more about this ally of his."

"Fair enough," Santana nods. "I'll have Britt study him, too." She traces her eyes over the world map that's spread across the chart table, missing the knowing smiles David and Mike share over her term of endearment for Brittany. "Assuming we leave from Phiny, Arty- how long do you think it'll take to get there?"

"To Orias?" Arty glances at the map for a moment. "Over a month, at least. Closer to forty days, depending on the winds."

"Over a month at sea," David groans, dropping his head to the table with a loud clunk. "Just hang me up in Joseph's cell beside him."

Mike laughs, trying to shake off the fear surrounding the subject. "That can be arranged with the right ritual- you know any Fig Sack members on the other side?"

David mumbles, "Just Joseph-"

"Okay, back on the chart," Puck snaps. "It's eighteen days to Phiny and another forty to this supposed ally in Orias-"

"Is that journey worth the effort?" Mike wonders. "Even if the contact is there and willing to help us, is it necessary?"

"Could be invaluable information," Matt points out, scratching the patch of hair on his chin. "Because I, at least, have no idea what to expect at the Three Points."

"I've been doing research," Arty admits, "but all of it has led nowhere. There's surprisingly very little information on it. People who have been there don't talk about it."

"Or they don't come back," David shrugs.

Silence falls over them as they process his words, wondering once again what, exactly, they are getting themselves into, especially in light of Joseph's sudden death. Santana finds her mind drifting away to thoughts of her future, and what it could be with and without this impossible mission. Could she and Brittany sail away into the sunset? Or would Lycas- or Sylvester- someday find them? Is she doomed to risk her life for treasure she has no interest in to begin with just to clear her name?

Shaking her head, she brings herself back to the discussion at hand. "Let's make the trip, get the information, and figure out what's next after. We will have plenty of time to plan our next move once we speak with Elliot's contact."

Mike narrows his eyes in suspicion. "You're surprisingly on board with this, Quartermaster. I'd expect you to be arguing against such a costly mission."

Santana swallows. "It's just a supply run to Phiny."

"Exactly," David laughs. "You argue against those, too!"

Santana can't help but smile at the thought of her usual disagreeable attitude, but it fades as she answers, "I have a lot at stake."

When it's clear that her men will not accept the easy answer- as they wait expectantly for her to elaborate- she continues, "When Quinn betrayed us, she gave up my identity- my true identity- to Sylvester." The surrounding pirates gasp in shock at such a horror, and she finishes, "the only way to clear my name fully is to get enough money to buy out Lycas." Or die trying.

"So that's settled, then. We get to the Immortal Spring," David decides, as if it's an easy sail over to Perdic.

"No alternative," Mike nods firmly, and Santana's touched by the loyalty her crew carries for her, but then Arty speaks, voicing new fear:

"Quinn betrayed you, but what does that mean for the rest of us?"

"Right- she's still out there," Matt says quietly. "Still a threat."

"She knows all of our identities," David agrees.

"And she knows where our island is," Arty continues, his voice rising with concern. "She could be leading the rozzers here right now."

"I don't know," Puck mutters sourly. "I don't think she's that bold-" but at Santana's glare, he backpedals, "at least, I hope she's not. But one thing's certain- the faster we get our supplies together and ready to leave, the better chance we have of avoiding another possible sting from Quinn. We'll be far harder to catch on open water."

Arty nods slowly. "Agreed... but then- when should we leave?"

Puck hums in thought. "Nightfall; two days. Make your preparations, because we won't be coming back here for a long, long time."

An extra hand in the kitchen, and not an entire pirate crew to feed- as most of the pirates foraged on the island for at least a few meals- sees Brittany alternating daily shifts with Elliot, while Kurt works for a short time every day to decide upon the meals and oversee their production. It goes far smoother than she imagined, but it means that she is suddenly in possession of an entire day to herself.

With time off that she'd never really experienced before, Brittany is unsure what to do. Her first thought is to visit Santana, but she doesn't want to impose on the woman who is still on her final leg of recovery, so instead she treats herself to a long, languid bath, carrying hot water to her washtub and immersing her tired muscles in it. She takes care to scrub herself thoroughly, wondering when the last time was that she had such a luxury (a non-hurried pace, time to relax) and realizing it had not been for many weeks. While soaking, she attempts to sort through the maze of her emotions, for it's the first time she's slowed enough to do so.

The thought that weighs the heaviest on her mind is of the most recent event- Joseph's death.

Is she to blame?

She wonders if Joseph would still live had she not spoken to the man and persuaded him to aid them in translating the map. Was it not her words that convinced him to turn against his beliefs, his nature, and do what he so despised? Was she not responsible, at least in some part, for his demise?

Considering deaths she is responsible for reminds her of the decisive moment in Sylvester's fortress, when she'd finally drawn her blade and taken a life without hesitation. She knew at some point she would have to- David didn't train her only in defense, after all. She didn't know how she had expected to feel after her first kill, but it didn't equate to how she's currently feeling about it- indifferent.

Truthfully, she'd witnessed many deaths over the course of her time aboard the Tide Ripper- many of them completely undeserved, in her opinion. Though this one differed in that it was directly caused by her own hand, she felt that it was far more deserved than any other she'd witnessed. If she hadn't struck, surely Santana would be far more injured; perhaps they might not have escaped at all. She knows such a man in service of one such as Sylvester couldn't have been an upstanding, good citizen to begin with, and she knows that if she had to do it again, she would once again not hesitate to end his life.

Still-

She swallows thickly. She killed a person. Does she wish she could feel regret? Does she wish she could feel sadness, mourning the passing of a villain attempting to take her own life, but a person, just the same? Or is she upset that she doesn't feel those things, when she thought that she would?

Does it make her less of a civilized, decent person- more savage- if she doesn't?

She closes her eyes, remembering vividly the sound of her knife embedding into his throat, the gurgle of blood, his last, shuddering breath. She breathes deeply through her nose, sinking further into the bathwater, and tries to push the memory from her mind. What's done is done and she has no regrets. And yet...

She stews in her thoughts for the rest of the morning until finally deciding that maybe fresh air will help elevate her mood. She's only just finished dressing when someone knocks on her door, and she finds Santana standing, rather nervously, on the other side.

"Hi," Brittany greets with a weak smile, running her comb through her hair a final time.

"Hey," Santana returns, her eyebrows furrowing. "Elliot brought my breakfast this morning..." She scans her eyes over Brittany, concerned. "Are you all right?"

Brittany shrugs, setting her comb down. "Kurt has given me unexpected time off, and I've been alone with my thoughts."

Santana bites her lip, nodding in understanding- she still wakes most nights in a cold sweat, shaken from nightmares. "Well, if you'd rather stay alone-"

"No," Brittany says quickly. "I think I've spent enough time in shadow."

"Then- would you like to meet me for lunch?"

Brittany smiles teasingly. "Have we not already met today?"

Santana laughs, "Yes, but I need time to prepare our meal."

"I am not to bring it?"

"No," Santana reassures. "I'll take care of everything. Just meet me out front- high noon."

Brittany raises an inquisitive eyebrow. "Sounds dramatic."

Santana smirks. "It is."

She has some time before high noon, so Brittany walks along the shores of the island, hoping the sound of the crashing waves will calm her, and it has the desired effect. The quiet- except for the rolling of the ocean- brings her a feeling of inner peace, and she spends long moments just breathing in the salty air, focusing on the warm sand beneath her bare toes and the sun on her skin. Once she feels grounded, she returns to the large structure she's called home for many months to await Santana, who appears not long after, a canvas haversack slung over her shoulder. The contents inside the haversack clink from her movement, and Brittany studies the bundle at Santana's hip curiously.

"Our lunch?"

Santana smiles, suddenly shy under the inspection. "Yes."

Brittany returns the smile, reaching for her hand. "It's high noon. Are we having canvas for our meal?"

"If you're still hungry after, that can be arranged, I'm sure," Santana teases. She squeezes Brittany's hand. "I want to take you somewhere."

"You always provide the best destinations," Brittany says reverently. "I'm yours to lead, Santana."

At the sound of her name instead of her title- quartermaster- Santana feels her heartbeat accelerate in her chest. In response, she laces her fingers together with Brittany's, then guides her over to the surrounding jungle and to a path that will take them to one of her favorite spots on the island. It's almost an hour-long hike, even with them moving at a steady pace, and by the time they reach the grassy banks of a small spring fed by a modest waterfall, Brittany is ravenously hungry. When she beholds the aesthetic, however, she knows it was worth the delay in nourishment, and she's awestruck as she takes in the surrounding beauty.

Santana pulls a thin, square blanket from the haversack, which she spreads onto the ground before placing the bag in the center and kneeling to unpack its contents. Brittany watches patiently in surprised admiration as Santana presents the spread of sandwiches, sweets and fruits she had prepared, demonstrating the obvious effort that went into such a gesture, and Brittany feels her cheeks warming as she takes her seat on one corner of the blanket.

As Santana settles herself across from her, Brittany licks her lower lip, tracing her eyes over the various foods.

"How did you acquire all this?" Brittany wonders softly. "Or is 'skilled chef' to be added to the long list of talents you already possess?"

Santana smirks as she pours Brittany a glass of beer from a clay growler, which she immediately sips from, humming in pleasure at the light, citrusy taste. "I know someone in the kitchen," she winks, and Brittany feels her breath catch at the attractive, flirty way Santana smiles at her. It's such a change from the Santana that Brittany knew only a few short weeks ago, but Brittany adores this new Santana and the way she opens herself to her.

They eat their picnic in relative silence, enjoying each other's company and the background noise of the running water of the spring and gentle bubbling of the waterfall. Brittany would be lying if she said she wasn't impressed with the level of thought Santana placed into their lunch, sparing no small detail- but isn't that just like her lover, to always put in such an effort for her?

Brittany pauses in her thoughts- her lover. She has to admit, she'd considered Santana such for a time, but had never really examined all that the use of the term meant. She smiles to herself as she realizes that Santana is nothing short of her lover, and to call her otherwise would be incorrect- but are they more?

Sipping her beer, Brittany watches Santana chew her sandwich out of the corner of her eye. She wants to move to the next step with her... but what is it?

Without meaning to, her thoughts once again fly to their captivity in Sylvester's fortress, and the crippling fear and sadness that seized her at the possibility of Santana dying. She certainly carries deeper feelings for Santana than she had ever anticipated, but the pirate's feelings- beyond simply caring about her- are still a mystery, and Brittany does not know how to broach the subject. Besides- recent events have taken priority, and, once again, she's reminded of Joseph's death and the part she played in its unfolding.

Sensing the shift in Brittany's mood, Santana takes another cautious bite of her sandwich, studying Brittany's face. She seems- off, distracted, and, remembering how she admitted that her thoughts had been bothering her as of late, Santana draws a nervous breath and reaches for her beer.

"Britt- what's troubling you?"

"Hm? What do you mean?"

Santana raises her eyebrows meaningfully. "I can tell you are bothered by something."

Blushing and feeling flattered that Santana can discern when she's upset, Brittany finally admits with a sigh, "I feel as if Joseph's death was my fault. I'm the one who convinced him to go against his nature and translate the map."

"So you're the harlot he spoke of?"

Brittany laughs weakly. "Is that what he named me?" At Santana's nod, she says, "then I suppose I am."

When Brittany's expression does not brighten, Santana cups her chin with her left hand, tilting her head up to gaze into warm, brown eyes. "Hey- Joseph made his own decision. You may have provided him with an option, but it was still his choice in the end, and he chose to risk his life for freedom- something we can all relate to."

Brittany reaches up to place her hand over Santana's, resting on her cheek. "Would we have really kept him locked up forever?"

Santana shrugs, shifting closer. "I don't know. I can't ever see Captain Idiot waiting that long for him to cooperate- but I also can't see him just letting Joseph walk away without translating the map, either- if I'm being honest." She takes Brittany's other hand with her still-bandaged one and brings it to her lips, kissing her fingers softly. "It was a tough situation, Britt- one that you sorted out, just as you always do."

At Santana's smile, Brittany releases a steady breath, feeling a great weight lift from her shoulders. She smiles back, her eyes shining with her usual brightness. She leans forward to press a gentle kiss to Santana's cheek, pausing to whisper, "Thank you."

Their meal finished, they lounge on the blanket, enjoying the cool shade of the trees and the relaxing sound of the water. Brittany leans back against Santana, her head resting on the pillow of her breasts as Santana props them up on her good hand, her legs stretched out before her with Brittany settled between them. Brittany hugs Santana's right arm to her chest, stroking her forearm and pressing errant kisses to her bicep at random. She examines Santana's right hand, still tightly-bandaged, but missing the thick splints that made movement impossible.

"Does it hurt much?"

"It's sore," Santana says softly against Brittany's hair, breathing her in. "I still can't move it well."

Brittany lifts the hand to her mouth and begins to kiss each of her fingers, and Santana sighs in pleasure at the contact.

"Mike says I may never regain full mobility," she admits in a whisper, and Brittany squeezes her arm, swallowing thickly at the hollow note in her voice. Gazing out at the waterfall, a thought occurs to her, which she voices to turn the conversation from the unpleasant topic it had found.

"It's so beautiful here... Why do you ever leave? Why not just stay here?"

"We have to leave to get food and supplies... While bountiful, this island could never support our full number on its own. And let's face it- I don't want to spend the rest of my life sharing this place with Noah." Santana rolls her eyes at the thought.

"I suppose not," Brittany agrees with a laugh. She closes her eyes, sighing as Santana nuzzles against her hair. "But it's so peaceful, I might never leave."

"I would gladly share this place with you," Santana promises, but as she imagines it, she recalls their immediate, impending future and bites her lip. She doesn't want to tell Brittany about it and ruin the moment, but she also doesn't want her to find out at the last minute. Torn for only an instant, she makes up her mind, pressing a kiss to the top of Brittany's head. "But..."

Brittany shifts, hugging her arm tighter. "Hm?"

"We are leaving here soon."

The tone of her voice alerts Brittany that something is wrong. She sits up, turning to look at her, finding brown eyes. "For how long?"

Santana shrugs helplessly. "Indefinitely? At least three months' time-"

Brittany gasps. "Three months? That's-"

"A long time," Santana murmurs softly, turning her gaze towards the spring, getting lost in the movement of the water.

Brittany's mind races with questions, but at the sight of Santana's sad expression, she dismisses them, gently taking up her bandaged hand again instead. She carefully strokes the back of it with her thumb. "Is that why you brought me here?"

"Partly," Santana confesses. She turns her gaze back to Brittany's blue eyes, smiling wistfully. "I wanted to show you this place- I always have..." Brittany returns her smile, but then her face returns to its previous sad expression as she adds, "But I also wanted to spend time with you- before we must be parted for our separate duties."

Brittany's jaw tenses at the thought. "And when will that be taking place?"

"We set sail for Phiny tomorrow evening."

"Why so late?"

"Noah hopes it will provide us cover- in case Quinn has betrayed us once more by revealing the location of our island."

"Would she do that?" Brittany asks.

Santana shrugs again. "I can't pretend to know what she would and would not do- not after she betrayed us to Sylvester."

Brittany swallows, sudden fear building in her stomach- fear for what would happen to Santana if-

Santana once again lifts her hand to her mouth and kisses it reassuringly. "Do not worry- we are fast." She catches Brittany's eyes. "I promise I won't let anything bad happen to you."

Brittany smiles playfully. "I was thinking the same about you."

With the sun beginning its descent in the sky, they reluctantly make the hike back to the fortress, moving at a leisurely pace. Once inside, they pause in the center of the intersection where two hallways cross; Brittany hesitates to part from Santana, holding her hand tightly as she searches her face.

"Will I see you tonight?"

Santana smiles sadly. "I'm afraid not. We have a mandatory officer's meeting to discuss the long journey ahead."

Brittany sighs, squeezing Santana's hand before unwillingly releasing it. She forces a smile, trying to stay hopeful as she gazes into brown eyes. "You know where to find me, if-"

Santana pulls her suddenly into a crushing hug. When she releases her a little, she turns her head to kiss her, and for a small eternity, they're lost in each other, though standing in the middle of the hall. After a long moment, Santana pulls back slowly, promising, "I'll be wishing to be by your side the entire time."

Blushing, Brittany watches Santana go, her heart flipping in her chest as she stands awkwardly in the middle of the intersection. She takes a deep, steadying breath, trying to calm her racing heart, before she realizes- with such a journey to prepare for, Kurt will surely need help. So, despite the fact that she's been released from duty for the day, she makes her way to the kitchen.

When she arrives, she finds Kurt, Sugar and Elliot already present, with Elliot mostly through preparing a small feast to use up the food that they cannot bring aboard the ship, while Sugar and Kurt pack up the remainder of the supplies for transport.

"Why didn't you send for me?" Brittany demands, automatically grabbing an apron and slipping the loop over her head.

"Off is off," Kurt shrugs. "Besides, we have plenty of time. We got much more notice than usual."

After securing her apron, Brittany helps Sugar arrange fruits and vegetables into large netted sacks for transportation, her thoughts drifting sadly to the fact that she will most likely not see Santana again that night. She wonders how Kurt spends so much time apart from David- since David must be present at the meetings- and a question pops into her mind.

"Kurt, why don't you go to the officer meetings?"

Kurt shrugs, smirking as he loads random tin cans and jars into a crate. "I'm not an officer."

Brittany pauses, hoping she did not offend her friend. "Oh. Why ever not? You oversee so much, surely-"

He laughs. "Because I don't wanna go to those meetings, Britt."

Brittany grins wryly at his answer. "Of course. The way Santana makes it sound, no one does."

"I listen to enough insufferable drivel from our captain- I certainly don't need to hear more." Kurt rolls his eyes, placing the chunk of paper-wrapped lard he'd been holding down on the counter. "David always gives me the highlights, anyways- after."

Brittany nods in response, returning her focus on her work- but she wonders what those meetings are like, and why Santana always returns from them frustrated and annoyed. She doesn't want to go to them for the information... but she has to admit, the idea of being near Santana appeals to her. Maybe her presence there could make those meetings just a tiny bit more bearable. The thought makes her smile.

She doesn't get to see Santana as much as she would like. The two week journey to Phiny feels agonizingly slow yet drags on and on, as the continuous time at sea blends the days together. Had it been four days? Five?

It seems that every time she has a moment to herself and searches for Santana, the woman is deep in conversation with Puck or Arty, or busy performing ship checks- whatever those are. Even when she brings her meals, Santana is poring over maps and scrolls in the chart room. Her brown eyes always light with joy once she sees her, but then the light fades quickly as she is drawn back to her preparations. Brittany wishes she knew what required so much attention, but she has also been very busy, herself- preserving their food to keep it from spoilage, and stretching the remainder of their supplies to last them until they reach Phiny.

With Santana unavailable, Brittany spends a good amount of her free time with Madison and Mason, who has made almost a full recovery. They couldn't just leave the twins alone on their island, so they had brought them along to Phiny, still unsure what to do with them. Kitty and Marley had assimilated into their crew seamlessly. Kitty worked closely under Arty, as navigation apprentice, and Marley spent her days with Matt as a rigger, taking special interest in manning the Crow's Nest. But truthfully, they had no idea what to do with them, either.

"So you've been Sylvester's body slave since you were twelve?" Brittany wonders as they share bread over supper- a bowl of stew containing a hodgepodge of whatever miscellaneous ingredients were left and unable to be preserved. It was an interesting combination, but not unpleasant. At least the bread she had baked turned out well.

Madison nods in answer to her question. "In the before, I was to be married to a violent warlord across the sea as a peace offering for my village, my brother to accompany me as witness. But our ship was attacked, and I-" she swallows, and Mason touches her shoulder gently, offering comfort. She reaches up to hold his hand in gratitude. "I eventually found myself at the mercy of the Countess. I don't-" she pauses. "I don't even remember my mother's face."

"I'm so sorry," Brittany breathes, swallowing the bread she'd been chewing, amazed at the similarities in their separate backstories. She stares into her bowl of stew, feeling overwhelmingly responsible for the fate of the siblings before her. Was it Lycas who had caused them so much suffering? Madison had confessed she didn't remember the country of origin of the warlord she was to be wed to, nor the one that attacked her ship, but it seemed like Lycas was a likely culprit- as usual.

"No need to apologize, My Lady. You have given us back our lives! We are free because of you, something I never thought I would live to see."

Brittany forces a smile. "And what do you plan to do, now that you have all this freedom?"

"Why, stand by your side, of course!" Mason declares with an enthusiastic smile.

Madison nods fervently. "We are eternally in your debt. We will serve you, protect you, aid you, for as long as we live."

"How does that differ from slavery?" Brittany wonders, picking at her medley stew. "I have no need of slaves."

"Because we make this choice," Madison reassures. "We are not being forced into this life."

Brittany frowns bitterly at her words- aren't they, though? Madison and Mason have no choice in where they go, what they do, if they follow her. They couldn't have chosen to stay on their island, but dragging Madison and Mason along on every wild adventure is not a pleasant solution, either; it would only ensure their demise, and she can't bear two more innocent deaths on her hands. The thought weighs heavily on her as she tries to discern a favorable outcome- what is she to do with them? She can't bring them along on the mission, but she can't just dump them in Phiny, either. They have nothing- no skills, no contacts... they would end up right back in Sylvester's service.

She bites her lip, feeling overwhelmed, and missing the connection she shares with her quartermaster, and her counsel.

On a ship full of her friends and crew, she's surprised that she can feel so alone.

The morning they finally pull into Phiny, Brittany rises from her hammock to help get the ship moored, as is her usual duty. She's helping Matt steady the gangplank alongside Marley when Kurt appears by her side, handing her the hooded cloak she wears into town to obscure her features. Brittany accepts the garment curiously, quickly throwing it around her shoulders as she follows Kurt off the ship, much as she did upon her first visit to Phiny a small eon ago.

"Where are we going?" she wonders as she follows him down a familiar street, keeping her face as hidden as possible.

Kurt answers over his shoulder, not pausing in his stride as he leads her through town. "To my father's. I thought you might like to see him, and I know he'd be delighted to see you, too."

"I would..." she starts slowly, but upon recalling Burt's initial reaction to her- that Kurt had finally brought a woman home- she hesitates. "But would not David like to come along, as well?"

"Oh, gods no," Kurt gasps. "My father doesn't know about him."

Brittany's eyes furrow in confusion. "How can he not know? I thought he was a pirate, previously. Surely he understands what happens on ships..."

Kurt laughs nervously as they reach the familiar alley and the chipped, faded Upkeeps sign. He pauses to turn to Brittany, offering her a bittersweet smile. "I know I'm asking a lot, but- I'm not sure I'm ready to have that conversation with him yet, Britt. I truly appreciate your discretion."

Brittany takes his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze in support. She feels as if she owes him more than she can ever repay, anyway, but even if she didn't, his request is as nothing. "Of course. It's not the first time we've been together." She winks, and he releases a relieved sigh, giving her a look of gratitude before he reaches to knock on the worn, wooden door.

It only takes a few moments before the same grizzled, bald-headed man answers the door exuberantly, a wide smile appearing the second he lays eyes on Kurt.

"My son!" He immediately crushes Kurt into a hug. "My son is home!"

"H'lo, Pop," Kurt winces at the squeeze. After a long moment, Burt pulls back to examine him. The exchange is so familiar that Brittany experiences deja vu. Do they really greet each other this way every time?

"Welcome home, son." Burt traces his eyes over Kurt, but once he spies Brittany in the background, he shoots his son a knowing smile, which causes Kurt to blush deeply. "Welcome home, Brittany!"

Brittany blushes, as well, at the misplaced sentiment, but is overall touched by the warm gesture. "Thank you."

"What brings you, son? More ship damage?" He sends Brittany a sly wink, which causes her to blush harder, and Kurt sighs, exasperated- it's much too early for this.

"No damage; we're to make preparations for a long voyage."

"A voyage?" Burt asks, excited. He wraps one arm around Kurt and the other around Brittany, guiding them inside. "Tell me all about it!"

They move into the familiar room, settling down onto the worn- but comfy- loveseat, while Burt disappears momentarily with the promise of coffee and Brittany anxiously sits before the fire, fearing the taste; she doesn't know if everyone makes it special the way Kurt does, but she accepts a cup politely upon Burt's return. When she sips it, she's surprised- it's not bitter, despite being served black, and she can easily taste the clear depth of flavor.

"This is wonderful," she sighs, wrapping her fingers around the warm ceramic mug.

Kurt smiles beside her. "No one makes coffee the way Pop does."

"It's all in them fancy beans," Burt admits proudly. "And the brew."

"I have a lot to learn."

Burt laughs heartily. "Well those shit-ass beans you use probably don't help- sorry for the language, Brittany."

Brittany grins- she spends her days with filthy-mouthed pirates, a fact Burt knows, yet still he apologizes. "No need," she reassures.

"Take a sack of the good stuff when you leave, son. For Brittany." Burt winks again, and Kurt stares down awkwardly into his cup of coffee, hoping that it will somehow rescue him from such an uncomfortable situation. Finally easing into his armchair, Burt strikes a match and lights a briar pipe that he had clearly been in the middle of smoking when they'd knocked. A thin curl of smoke rises up as the tobacco burns, and he offers the pipe to Brittany. When she politely refuses, he leans back into the chair, taking a few long puffs. After a moment, he collects his coffee cup and looks expectantly at Kurt. "Now- tell me about this voyage."

Kurt hesitates for only a moment before he decides to just blurt, "We are sailing down to the southern tip of Orias."

"Orias!" Burt nearly spits the coffee he'd been sipping at his son's words. "What in the Great Ocean are you lookin' for there? Don't tell me you're gonna try and tango with Lycas- they're all over there, like a fuckin' plague-"

Brittany cringes surreptitiously and quietly drinks her coffee, hiding her face at Burt's colorful words that demonstrate his distaste for Lycas. Even though she is no longer part of her former country, guilt still washes over her, and she feels irrationally responsible for such sour opinions of Lycas.

"No, Pop, we are searching for information," Kurt reassures with a roll of his eyes. Then, an idea occurs to him. "Have you ever been to the Three Points?"

"The Dragon's Bight, in the west? Those Three Points?"

"Yes."

Burt narrows his eyes suspiciously, scratching his bearded chin. "Can't say that I have- got better sense than to go messin' out there. Don't tell me that daffy captain of yours..." But at Kurt's pointed silence, Burt slams his coffee cup down on the small table beside his chair, his jaw tensing.

"Kurt. No. Tell me you're not serious," he pleads. "That place is cursed. Those ships disappear- everyone knows that!"

"But they're all after something," Kurt reasons half-heartedly, obviously not convinced himself. "Otherwise, why would they go there?"

"Bah! What good is treasure if you don't survive to see it used?"

Brittany nods in agreement, unable to fault his logic.

"I share your unease," Kurt admits. "But what am I to do? My crew is going; therefore, so am I."

Burt sighs, leaning forward in his chair, a serious expression crossing his face. "Son," he grabs Kurt's hand in his firmly, "perhaps it's time we talked about you settlin' down." Without warning, he gently takes Brittany's hand in his other one, much to her shock, and brings their hands together before him.

Kurt's face turns scarlet. "Pop-"

"Don't look shocked, son. I can tell you two have a connection- shared souls. You're gettin' older, so maybe it's time to start thinkin' about settlin' down, startin' a family. You two can stay in your old bedroom- you can help run the business." He offers him a hopeful smile.

Kurt returns it sadly. The future his father has planned for him sounds wonderful- tempting, even- but he knows that he can never live that life, because he is not the person his father sees. He is meant for the ocean- meant for David- and though he knows his father would understand his desires, he can't bring himself to destroy his hopes yet. So with a heavy sigh, he squeezes Burt's hand and says, "I appreciate your offer, Father. But you know I took an oath. I stand by my crew. And we are, unfortunately, going to the Three Points."

Burt presses his lips together grimly, his eyes hardening to stave off emotion. He rises, brushing off his pants, and reaches for his coat, placing his pipe between his teeth as he slides his arms into the sleeves. "Then I will ensure you're as ready as possible for the dangers you'll face... and prepare myself to lose my son."

An admittedly accurate, detailed drawing of herself stares back at her from the Wanted poster hanging on the message board at the docks. The face isn't a perfect match of her own, but resembles her closely enough that anyone who knows her would be able to recognize the person it portrays.

Glaring from beneath her dark, hooded cloak, Santana rips the poster from the board and tears it, an angry lump rising in her throat. Her hope that maybe they would forget her- a hope that she'd been foolishly clinging to for the past few weeks- dies painfully as she tosses the shreds into a nearby trash receptacle.

Phiny is the largest island port in the Melosan Sea- a hub between all of the major countries struggling for power, with Lycas most obviously at the forefront of the brawl. It should be no surprise that, so close to Brittany's homeland, they would still be searching for the lost princess, and her supposed "kidnappers." Still, it stings all the same.

Santana sighs bitterly. Though she had hoped to be able to take Brittany out, to show her around and spend time as they had in Perdic, she's now forced to stay in hiding. She pauses to spit the sour taste from her mouth, then continues her journey to the inn they normally board at, avoiding detection or recognition. Thankfully, the inn is off the main path, and the keeper, Shelby, is known for her discretion, so she can at least still sleep there. She will have Sugar secure her a room, and be very careful about where she goes, because she surely can't bear to stay on the ship if she values her sanity, especially when the promise of over a full month at sea looms before her.

As she moves to make the preparations, she realizes she mourns the loss of time spent with Brittany more than the loss of her own freedom. Their demanding duties on the ship left them with little time to spend together over the past two weeks at sea, and she longs to be with Brittany again, more than fleeting smiles shared when Brittany delivers her meals. They have precious few days in port before their departure, and she knows that she must make time now or risk having none, so once Sugar returns with the key to her room, she begins to plan.

Brittany closes the door to her room in the inn, collapsing down onto her bed and resting her tired legs after a long day of preparations. After the time spent with Burt early that morning, Kurt had gone to market with Jake and Henry, ordering supplies and food enough for their month-long journey, while she returned to the ship with Elliot to receive and store them, since she could not risk showing her face in public, anyway. She knew they would be curing a lot of the meats and perishables in their first week to prolong their lifespan, but she had still worried the rations would not be enough, especially with five extra mouths to feed.

Burt had arrived at their berth later that morning with an entire crew that immediately set to work beside Matt and Mike, checking and ensuring the integrity of the ship's hull and re-sealing a lot of the wooden beams to maintain their water-tight properties. It was a long, busy day, full of bustle, and she felt drained from the amount of tasks she was given and completed. She's ready to scrub herself clean and then pass out, but a knock at the door makes her pause in removing the work-ribbon from her hair.

Sighing, she stands to answer, hoping to see Santana, but knowing that, if her day was busy, her quartermaster's was more so, and her hopes deflate. It's probably for the best- she knows she looks completely unkempt. When she opens the door to reveal Sugar, precariously holding an armful of colored bottles, Brittany raises a questioning eyebrow, feeling deja vu come over her once more.

"Brittany," Sugar sighs through her mischievous smile. "I need a favor." She sets the clinking bottles down on the dresser in Brittany's room without preamble, then rubs her palms together, as if to expel dust.

"I have an idea of what favor you could possibly need," Brittany states suspiciously. "But do elaborate."

Sugar leans against the dresser casually. "I need you to bring these bottles to Master Santana. You know where, but in case you've forgotten, it's one floor above, fifth door on the right."

Brittany smiles gently as Sugar leans in to kiss her cheek in gratitude. "As a reminder, you no longer have to serve Santana, Sugar."

Still offering that mischievous smile, Sugar backs out of the room slowly. She shoots Brittany a wink before she calls, "I'm not!" and departs.

Shaking her head at the endless ways Santana continues to amaze her, Brittany gathers up the different-sized, colored bottles, swearing that they must've doubled in number since the last time she had to carry them, and makes her way up the creaking stairs that are still, to no surprise, in badly need of repair.

When she reaches the fifth door on the right, it occurs to her that she's about to see Santana- and that she's still, in her mind, looking disheveled. As she elbows open the door, it occurs to her that she repeated her mistake of last time- that she did not knock- but she gives herself a break as she reasons that knocking would be impossible, anyway, perilously burdened with so many delicate bottles.

As she enters the room, it occurs to her that Santana is, once again, naked and standing in the center of the bathing pool, but this time, instead of slamming her eyes shut as quickly as possible, she calmly finds Santana's brown, amused eyes, keeping her expression neutral.

Santana offers a playful smirk. "I see I am no longer cursed, as Medusa."

Brittany returns the grin. "You need more snakes."

Santana laughs, her dimple appearing, and Brittany takes it as an invitation to move closer, though she respectfully doesn't allow her eyes to stray from Santana's face. (Out of her peripherals she can just barely see the waterline on Santana's lower stomach-)

When Santana reaches her hand out expectantly, Brittany passes her the bottles, and Santana sets them on the shelf, as before. Then, knowing how this encounter plays out, Brittany swallows her nervousness and hands Santana the last, purple-hued bottle. She's not surprised when Santana grabs her hand, not surprised when her heart starts pounding, not surprised when their eyes meet and Santana licks her lips and her own pulse throbs between her legs, but she is surprised when Santana smiles and says, Join me? though she's not sure why. Santana had requested the same of her so many eternities ago, and Brittany had refused her then, scared of her own attraction and what it meant; but now, having fully embraced the desire she holds for Santana, she simply nods in answer before straightening up to begin removing her clothes.

Santana watches her, and their eyes meet, almost in challenge. Brittany slowly undresses, and Santana does not avert her relentless, intense gaze, but does not allow it to stray from Brittany's eyes, either. She has nothing to be ashamed of, but the moment becomes charged with tension as her last garment falls to the ground and she reveals herself completely, wondering if Santana's respectful gaze is at all tempted to waver. Fully naked, she steps into the warm, inviting pool, holding Santana's ravenous eyes with her own. The water reaches just above her sex, lapping teasingly at the v of her hips, and she sinks down to sit and submerge herself entirely in the luxurious, warm water, finally breaking the eye contact.

When she surfaces, Santana is turned away from her, pouring a mixture of different bottles into the water, and soon, a flowery, calming scent fills her nose, relaxing her. She regards the woman with caution, her eyes tracing the curves of her form, starved and longing to behold more, but maddeningly subdued to just the woman's rear side. Brittany's gaze slides over her bare back, which is scarred with straight, angry lines that crisscross patterns into her skin. Without thinking, she moves closer, reaching out her hand to glide reverent, gentle fingers along the lines, and Santana shivers at the touch, arching slightly and biting her lip. It's the first time Brittany has touched her in such a way, and the first time anyone's touched her back in such a way since her torture.

Brittany bends to press a soft kiss to the swallow tattoo upon Santana's left shoulder blade, which had unknowingly been placed in just the right location to escape damage from the torture she'd endured. Santana turns, and their mouths meet, slow and languid, and then Santana pulls back, looking out of breath, but smiling.

"I've missed you, Britt."

Brittany returns the smile, reaching to cup Santana's face tenderly. "You, as well."

Santana presses one last, gentle kiss to her lips before she scoops some thick goop from a green jar into her hand, and commands her to turn.

Obediently, Brittany obeys, sinking down into the water to allow Santana to wash her hair. She closes her eyes, enjoying the feeling of her nails on her scalp and her fingers combing gently through her blonde hair, followed by an actual comb. She hadn't had her hair washed by another since Sugar did it just before they fled her father's estate, but the charged atmosphere, and the knowledge that it's Santana performing such a service, gives her a much different feeling. It's relaxing, and intimate, and she sighs in content as Santana massages her head.

"I wanted to thank you," Santana says softly, finally breaking the silence as she combs through Brittany's hair with ease, thanks to the soap mixture she'd applied earlier.

"For what?"

"For cleaning me up when I was unconscious."

Brittany blushes faintly. "You noticed that?"

"Of course I did," Santana breathes. "And I- I wanted to return the favor." She gently guides Brittany to lean back so she can rinse, and Brittany closes her eyes and focuses on the feeling of Santana's fingers stroking through her hair.

Though at the peak of relaxation, her thoughts wander to a much less calming topic- how Santana can possibly be here. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't noticed the new Wanted posters in town- they're everywhere, and posted right alongside her own. At the risk of sounding hypocritical, she reaches up to grab Santana's hand from where it pets her bangs, bringing it to her mouth to kiss gratefully.

"I've noticed something, too," she admits. "The new postings in town. You take such a great risk in being here."

Santana shrugs, releasing Brittany's head. "It's worth it."

Brittany turns to look at her, staring hard into her eyes. "It's worth being captured again? Tortured?"

"Yes," Santana says, equally as firm. "I would suffer it all again."

"Why? Do you not care about your life?"

"I'm not afraid of pain, Brittany. I'm afraid of-" she hesitates, pressing her lips together.

"Of what?"

"Of losing you," Santana whispers, averting her eyes. Brittany studies her face, the tears threatening to well up in her eyes, the way she tries to swallow the lump in her throat, and suddenly, everything becomes clear to her for the first time.

"Is that why you've kept me at arm's length for so long? Because you're afraid?"

"Yeah" she whispers, her voice wobbling.

Brittany bites her lip, then, hesitating for only a moment, stands to wrap Santana in a hug. It's a very intimate hug, since they are both naked- the feeling of their bodies pressing together fully for the first time transforms the moment into something beyond intimate, and Santana is suddenly afraid to breathe as Brittany holds her tightly, burying her face into her neck. She wraps arms around her in return, keeping her close, flush, and when Brittany shifts, their hips press together and the moment changes again at the contact. Brittany rests her forehead against hers, their noses brushing, their warm breaths blending, and Santana is suddenly hyper aware of the feeling of Brittany's slick breasts against hers, her stomach hot where it touches her own. Santana's never experienced such a raw feeling; a hug charged with such underlying emotion. She's never been cradled so close, so lovingly, and it shatters the wall inside her, experiencing such warmth.

She sucks in a deep breath and pulls away slightly. She knows they aren't ready for whatever comes next- she can still feel that Brittany is holding back, though she's unsure what, or why. Has she done something wrong? She's still not sure what she's doing, or what anything means, and she doesn't want anything to change until she figures it out. Is she finished courting? What does come next?

When Brittany kisses her, the questions fluttering in her mind float away, and she melts into the embrace, feeling as if she's become one with the bath water. Brittany kisses her neck next, and she nearly breaks her resolve- especially when her mouth moves lower to lick across her collarbone, then to press a filthy kiss to the jagged scar there.

"What happened?" Brittany breathes over her wet, heated skin, and Santana shivers.

"Spear," she mumbles, tilting her head back to give Brittany more room to explore. When the woman pauses, waiting, she struggles to think, to give her more. "Uh- last year. We were pirating a merchant ship- severely outnumbered."

Brittany continues her expedition, her lips moving down between Santana's breasts to her stomach, and Santana tenses, aches with want, her pulse pounding everywhere, driving her crazy. Brittany's mouth finds another scar, on the right side of her hip just above the V, and when prompted, Santana says breathlessly, "Arrow. I don't remember when. They all sort of blend together, especially when you're-"

She gasps when Brittany bites gently at her hip, surprised by how forward she's being, but as soon as she lets her hand tangle in blonde hair, her heart racing with desperate hope, Brittany is rising to kiss her jaw, her cheek, her lips again, and Santana regains control of her senses, refocusing on trying to complete their bath. Dazed, she reaches for more soap, wondering if perhaps Brittany is waiting for something, too.

She doesn't miss Brittany's smug look as she begins to wash herself, and Brittany accepts the soap soon after and does the same. They absently talk about the supplies, but Santana can see the fierce thirst in Brittany's eyes and it makes her stomach clench with want. She struggles to hold her desires in check, proud of herself for her self-control and the fact that she can resist the instinctive urge inside her, begging her to make Brittany forget her own name. After all, she's not here for that. She's here to repay a favor, and to build intimacy, and-

Brittany smiles sexily at her, and she almost comes undone. She doesn't remember the rest of the bath.

Reluctant to part from Santana once their bath is finished, Brittany leans in close, resting her forehead against hers. She knows that she's being forward, but she made a deal with herself that she wouldn't deny her desires any longer, and everything in her body aches for Santana, demands to be close to her. She wants to move beyond the physical aspect of their relationship, and after experiencing so much intimacy, she's unwilling to give that up.

"Sleep with me?"

Smiling, Santana takes her hand and laces their fingers together. They walk quickly back to Brittany's room, then, stripped of their outer clothes, they curl up in bed together. Santana can't deny that she wants Brittany badly- but for once, it's overshadowed by the feeling she has tucked against her in bed, warm and safe.

Brittany leans in to kiss her good night and not long after, they're both sound asleep.

Morning finds them lazily tangled up together in bed, and after sleeping in, they hide away in a dark corner of the inn and share breakfast- toast piled high with a fried egg, butter, and jam, and fresh citrus juice to wash it all down. As they sit in comfortable silence finishing their meal, Brittany thinks of how she wishes every morning could be as slow and carefree as this one- and how she loves these moments with the woman before her.

Santana, too, finds amazement in their breakfast together, marveling at how relaxed she feels after sleeping soundly with Brittany's heart beating by her side, lulling her to sleep... but with the ship scheduled to set sail that afternoon, she knows she's got work to do, and she regretfully rises to leave once their plates are cleared, confessing that she's pushed off her duty far longer than she was supposed to. Brittany smiles and kisses her hand before she goes, promising to visit her later before duty steals them completely from each other's arms.

Once alone, Brittany spots Mason and Madison huddled in another corner of the inn, a stack of empty plates piled high before them on the table, and the sight makes her smile. After so long in slavery eating gods-know-what, she can empathize how it must feel to eat real, good food. She had ensured that their accommodations would be taken care of, even offering to pay for it herself- but Arty had assured her that the ship would cover it, and that it was owed them for saving the life of their crew.

As she watches them, she considers what she must do. They are to set sail for a long, perilous journey soon- a journey that Mason and Madison never asked for, nor are they prepared to embark on. She can't simply leave them in Phiny with nothing-

And then, an idea hits her, and she rises from her table to approach them.

"My Lady!" Madison smiles when she notices her.

Brittany smiles in return. "May I sit?"

"Of course!" Madison sputters as Mason scrambles to his feet to pull out a chair for her, despite her protest.

Once seated across from the pair, Brittany raises a teasing eyebrow at the pile of empty dishes. "How was your breakfast?"

"It was wonderful," Madison sighs, blushing slightly.

"I'd forgotten what real food tastes like," Mason agrees, closing his eyes, savoring the memory, despite it having occurred very recently.

"Thank you, My Lady. Your generosity clearly knows no bounds- how shall we ever repay you?"

Brittany licks her bottom lip, her eyes darting between two sets of eager eyes. "By doing me a favor."

"Our lives are yours!" Madison bows her head in submission, making Brittany frown. "Just speak your will and see it done."

Brittany takes her hand gently, then gazes deeply into Madison's eyes. "I need you to leave me."

Madison's mouth drops open in shock for a moment before she recovers. "My Lady! I-"

"You wish for us to part from your side?" Mason asks, distraught.

"Have we done something to upset you?"

"No," Brittany reassures. "But we are to set sail from here for a very long time- into certain danger- and I would not drag you into such a situation-"

"We are not afraid," Mason insists.

"I know you're not. But I have some affairs that need looking after." They wait in respectful silence as she takes a deep breath and reaches into the travel bag by her side. She draws her coin purse out from within, pausing only to remove a few gold pieces- to be used to cover her remaining time on Phiny- before decisively sliding it across the table to Madison. "I need you to use this money and take yourselves to Argo."

Madison's eyebrows furrow with confusion. "Argo?"

"Where is that?"

"It's very far," Brittany admits. "But you will be safe there."

"And what are we to do once we are there?" Mason wonders, visibly upset, but attempting to follow Brittany's instructions.

"Enjoy your lives. I have a small dowry of money waiting there; I want you to use it to secure yourself, and-"

Madison leans forward, her voice low and desperate. "My Lady, we cannot possibly accept such a gift!"

"You swore your lives are mine," Brittany repeats, unwavering. "And I would have you live them. Go to Argo- wait for me there, though I may not be there for many years." At their shocked silence, Brittany takes a deep breath. "Please, do this favor for me. Do I have your word?"

"I..." Madison shakes her head slowly. Mason takes her hand.

"Yes," he says, and Madison reaches up to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. "You have our word. We will go to Argo, secure your assets, and wait for your arrival."

"Grand," Brittany says, offering them a relieved smile. She gazes at them meaningfully. "It's because of your aid that Santana and I still draw breath. For what you've done for me, you deserve to enjoy the rest of your lives, many times over. We will meet again, someday- I feel it. But for now, listen closely, for there are some things to do once you arrive in Argo..."

After departing from the twins, Brittany feels a small pressure lift from her shoulders. She hadn't spent a whole lot of time worrying about what to do with them, but at least it was one loose line that was tied up.

With the handful of money she had saved, and her time left in port dwindling before she has to be back aboard the Tide Ripper for them to cast off, she wants to purchase something nice for Santana. Carefully keeping her face hidden by her hooded cloak, she surreptitiously peruses the rows of merchant stalls that line the alleys, searching for a gift, though she's not sure what. Santana had gotten her so many wonderful things (she subconsciously touches the bandanna tied to her belt) and she wants to give her a token of her affection, in return.

She browses slowly, eyeing stalls filled with mountains of fruit, baskets of nuts, tables of fish, pouches, scarves- and then she's inexplicably drawn to a stall with many delicate necklaces. Chains, leather thongs, trinkets, and all of them made of different precious metals. She imagines what each of them would look like around Santana's neck, and determines that just a chain itself won't do- there has to be something-

She spots it further down the table: a tiny glass charm, shaped like a star. Not a traditional star shape, with the 5 points- but a stylized version, a manifestation of Polaris. When the light catches it, it bounces through the glass, mimicking its likeness, and Brittany knows upon seeing it that its perfect.

Happy with her purchase and nearly out of time, she ambles her way to the ship, making one final stop at a flower stand near the pier where she buys a bouquet of lilies. She hopes that Santana will enjoy the reminder of land- and of her- in her cabin. Pleased, and imagining Santana's smile when she receives the gifts, Brittany boards the ship, which is already bursting with activity as the rigging crew perform their line checks.

She moves swiftly to the galley, finding that she's the first one to reach it. She scrounges through the pots and pans until she finds something suitable to use as a makeshift vase, then sets the lilies in some water. Admiring the beautiful arrangement for a moment, she once again imagines Santana's dimple, only to be snapped from her daydream by the sound of the ship's bell clanging, providing final notice of their impending intention to set sail.

Quickly, she moves the makeshift vase to a more secure spot before trotting up to the main deck to help the ship get underway. She's taking up her usual spot near the forward mast when Kurt calls for her, and she abandons her post to move to his side.

"They have Kitty and Marley now," Kurt complains. "I need you in the galley."

She shrugs, obediently following him down the stairs as Santana takes her place on the quarterdeck and begins to shout the commands that will get the ship underway. She wants nothing more than to bring the lilies to her immediately, but she knows it's not the time for that, so as she slips her apron over her head and begins to help Kurt and Elliot prepare lunch, her thoughts drift away to the moment when presenting them will be possible.

Santana offers her a flirty smile when she delivers her midday meal, and that's when Brittany decides that she will surprise her at dinner with the flowers, once her duties for the day are complete and she can linger. She can barely contain her excitement as she heads back down to the galley, but Kurt's waiting to surprise her, instead.

"What's wrong?" she asks, concerned at his solemn face.

"Britt, you're off meal duty."

Her stomach freezes. "What?"

"I need you in the galley watching the fire," he sighs. Then, his eyes flash with anger as he elaborates, "Elliot burned half of a pig leg while you were gone! We can't afford that kind of waste, not on a journey this long." He frowns at her crestfallen expression. "You were planning to see Santana tonight, weren't you?" At her nod, he chews his lip in thought. "Take tonight off, then- you and Elliot can switch in the morning." He places a comforting hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "It's only until we get all the meats cured- then you can work whatever you want, I promise."

Brittany tries not to let her disappointment take over her as she anticipates bringing Santana her last meal for a while, focusing instead on knowing that someday soon, she will be back to her usual routine. Balancing a tray of food and the makeshift vase of lilies, she knocks on the door of Santana's stateroom, surprised when it opens almost instantly.

"Britt," Santana greets, genuinely surprised, but happy to see her nonetheless. "What brings you?"

"It's dinner time," Brittany points out, subtly gesturing to the tray in her arms.

Santana smiles tightly. "So it is." She glances at the wood and metal clock on her wall- composed entirely of scrap pieces of weapons- and debates internally for barely a moment, then motions to Brittany. "Come in; will you stay with me a moment?"

"If you'd like," Brittany nods, entering Santana's cabin, carefully avoiding bumping into the door frame. She sets the tray of food down on Santana's small table, feeling like a stranger in the room, despite spending nearly an entire night there, though it seems like a lifetime ago. She tries to shake off the awkward feeling, turning to offer Santana a smile, but finding her biting her lip, her brown eyes studying the container of lilies.

"What's this?" she asks, moving closer to stroke a petal of a lily between her thumb and forefinger gently. She considers the flowers absently for a moment, but when it dawns on her, she turns her gaze quickly to Brittany's warm blue eyes. "For me?"

"Yes," Brittany answers in response to Santana's disbelieving whisper. "I wanted you to be reminded of me."

"How could I ever forget?" Santana purrs, low and in her throat, her eyes darkening as she shifts even closer. She leans in, her slightly-parted lips finding Brittany's, and after intense moments that cause her heart to race madly, Brittany pulls back, breathless.

"I have to tell you something," she mumbles, her voice scratchy. She clears her throat, and Santana smirks, then moves her mouth to beneath Brittany's ear, pausing to kiss there.

"So tell me."

Brittany shivers, her hands sliding up toned, tan arms as she forces her mind to remain focused on words that are suddenly very difficult to form. "I won't be bringing your meals for a while."

That halts Santana's advance. She pulls away to search Brittany's face. "Why?"

"Kurt needs me to stay in the galley."

Santana bites her lip, her brown eyes flashing with anger for a moment, but just as quickly, it burns out. "I understand- you're invaluable. I can see why he would need you."

"You flatter me," Brittany teases, relieved that Santana has taken the news in a positive way.

"I speak honestly." Santana frowns, her eyes glancing back towards the lilies, which she contemplates. "These are beautiful," she admits. She turns her gaze back to Brittany, shoving down her disappointment. "Though not a suitable replacement for you, I will accept them in your stead."

Brittany laughs. "Thank you, kind and generous Quartermaster."

Grinning, Santana returns her attention to the rest of the tray Brittany had brought, and her mouth waters as she spies the slab of smoked fish on her plate, next to some kind of vegetable medley. "Wow, Britt- this looks incredible. You never fail to impress me."

Brittany blushes lightly at the compliment as Santana sits and begins to devour her food, politely declining Santana's offer to share and citing that she'd already eaten as the reason for her refusal. With Santana preoccupied, Brittany takes the opportunity to familiarize herself once again with Santana's room, and is surprised to find that a decently-sized bed now occupies the spot where her hammock once hung. The bed has two fluffy down pillows and a soft, thick fur blanket adorning it, but most importantly, in the center, Lord Tubbington reclines like the ruler he is, sprawled without a care in the world.

Brittany approaches the bed slowly, trying to come up with reasons other than the obvious for why Santana made the change. "What happened to your hammock?"

"I upgraded it to something more suitable to my desires," Santana purrs playfully before lifting another forkful of charred veggies to her mouth.

Brittany swallows thickly, her pulse speeding steadily as heat rises in her chest and her stomach performs flips worthy of a circus. She allows hope to fall over her, but with it, fear grows, as well- fear that Santana still does not want her in the way she wishes. She reaches out, her fingers caressing the soft blanket, drowning in her conflicting thoughts. "And what desires does it fulfill?"

Santana smirks. "The desire to sleep, Britt."

Brittany only smiles to herself. "Of course... Lord certainly seems to approve." She scratches under his chin and he leans into her touch, his purrs so loud they fill the room. Santana, having finished her meal, rests her chin on her interlaced fingers and watches them interact fondly, but another glance at her clock reveals she is already beyond late, and she rises apologetically.

"I'm afraid I must go- I have a-"

"Meeting," Brittany finishes, smiling a little as Santana takes her hand gently. "I understand."

"I'm sorry," Santana whispers, resting her forehead on Brittany's, her eyes sliding closed.

"It's all right- I know you can't go far. If ever the desire to see you becomes too great, I know I'll find you."

Santana forces a smile, but feels as if she might cry. The strange, new feeling inside her causes her confusion- what is this painful pressure in her chest? Why does her throat feel tight? She misses Brittany so much, but she'd hoped, despite David's warning, that this pain would lessen, that their relationship would get better. Instead, she just feels sad, empty without Brittany's presence.

She pushes the confusion away, then kisses Brittany sweetly on the cheek, nuzzling her nose there for a moment before breathing, "I'll see you soon. Thank you for the flowers. I..." she hesitates. "No one has ever given me flowers before."

"Think of me," Brittany says softly, squeezing her hand.

"I've not stopped yet," Santana admits.

Brittany watches her leave, absently petting Lord for a few moments, much to his delight; then, with a reluctant sigh, she says good-bye to him and makes her way back to the galley to prepare for what she's sure is going to be a grueling few weeks at sea.

The next several days exceed her expectations as Brittany spends almost all of her time preserving their supply of meat to last for their long journey. She rotates with Kurt during the night to man the fire used for smoking the majority of the larger pieces and the fish, and spends long days brining and curing the smaller pieces. Elliot helps prepare, portion out, and distribute their day-to-day meals, but even with the extra hands, there's still an overwhelming amount of work to be done.

Brittany barely has time for sleep most days, and sees Santana only at random meal times for fleeting moments, a routine that immediately frustrates her, for she misses sharing time together. She wishes she could at least share her bed on the nights where she's allowed sleep, but she knows that would be a jarring change that they aren't prepared for, so she crawls into her hammock instead, alone and with only the memory of how it felt to lie in Santana's protective embrace.

Santana is also unbearably busy that first week, conspiring with Arty and Puck to chart a safe course down to the island Elliot had mentioned and consolidating reports from all her officers on the status of their various supplies. She takes charge of the ship in turns with Puck, Arty and Matt, staying on hand to make decisions should a situation arise. Having drawn the worst position, she is awake for most of the night, relieved in the very early morning hours by Matt before collapsing in her bed. Sometimes, duty keeps her awake through breakfast, and she hopes to sight Brittany- but the long, toiling days take their toll on her early, and she succumbs to a routine numbness as the week stretches on.

On the sixth night of their long voyage, Santana finds herself settled on the main deck and struggling to stay awake- well past midnight- when Lord jumps into her lap, startling her. His little feet poke into her thighs as he turns in her lap, rubbing his shoulder against her stomach.

"What're you doing here?" she yawns, her hand automatically moving to stroke his back, near the base of his tail. His presence is unusual; she doesn't normally see the cat at night- she knows that he sleeps with Brittany, a privilege she's continually jealous of. When he mows at her, demanding her attention, she groans.

"Don't tell me you're hungry..."

At his answering mow, she rolls her eyes. "Of course you are- you're always hungry." She sighs tiredly, rising to her feet as he leaps from her lap with energy she doesn't understand how he possesses at such a late hour. Stiffly, she stretches, avoiding Lord's eager circling between her feet, then beckons him to follow her to the galley. He races ahead, his little paws thumping hurriedly on the wooden steps, and she shakes her head in exhausted amusement as she follows in his impatient wake.

When she reaches the galley, she's surprised to find Brittany tending to a small fire, looking about as awake as she feels, and she smiles as Lord Tubbington runs over to her lap to make his excited presence known.

Brittany startles, reaching automatically to pet him- nearly an exact copy of Santana's earlier reaction- and coos, "Hi, Lord! Did you come to keep me company?"

"Only if you have food," Santana replies on his behalf, and Brittany jumps again, her hand flying to her heart.

Santana chuckles. "I apologize for startling you."

Brittany smiles sleepily, but even as weary as she is, she cannot hide the joy in her eyes. "Why are you awake?"

"Because Lord is hungry again... and I should ask you the same."

Brittany pokes the embers beneath the smoke pit with the rod she's holding in response. "I'm tending to this ham. And that's not an answer."

"I'm on night watch," Santana explains as she moves to search the small canvas sack beside the counter for food scraps to feed Lord.

Brittany nods, accepting Santana's answer, then rises from her position on the small stool near the smoke pit. "I saved some scraps from dinner for his breakfast..."

Lord meows, and Santana meets Brittany's eyes. "He said he'll take it now."

Brittany laughs as she pulls a small jar from a cabinet. "Oh, is that what he said? I didn't realize you spoke cat."

Santana shrugs. "When you've been pestered as long as I have..."

"And how long is that?" Brittany wonders, tossing a few chunks of meat onto the floor, which Lord quickly pounces on and begins to devour as if he's never eaten. "When did you get him?"

Santana raises a playful eyebrow. "You mean when did he get us?"

Brittany smiles slyly. "Still denying that he's your cat? That's okay- he isn't denying ownership of you."

"I seriously doubt he would ever deny ownership of anything."

Brittany considers her words as she watches Lord, who's finished with his small meal and is licking his paw to rub over the side of his face repeatedly. "I suppose you're right."

With Lord fed, Santana's attention falls on Brittany, and she shifts closer- hesitant, but longing for contact, for intimacy, for their connection, which has grown so weak lately. When Brittany meets her in a kiss, she crushes her body to her, holding her tightly, her heart pounding from the sudden feeling of physical contact after days without. She feels as if I miss you doesn't convey the powerful emotion, the yearning, the emptiness, that she's felt the last few days, weeks, without Brittany's nearness; so she tries to convey it through her mouth, kissing Brittany hungrily, and Brittany kisses back, wrapping arms around her neck and holding her close.

Before Brittany, she'd been used to going weeks, months, without intimacy. She'd never had it aboard the ship, never thought she needed it. But now, her environment has been forever changed by Brittany's presence, as she feared it would. Now, she notices her absence, feels the loss in her routine and craves to remedy it, though she knows she cannot; she can only enjoy the moment, which is what drives her to press Brittany back against the counter as she sucks her bottom lip.

Then, as if reminding them of its existence, the fire crackles loudly. In the following silence, Santana's stomach growls, and Brittany laughs against her mouth before finally placing some space between them.

"I guess Lord wasn't the only hungry one," she murmurs, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

Santana licks her lips, shaking her head- Brittany doesn't know how hungry she really is-

Brittany smiles, as if reading Santana's mind, and cups her cheek affectionately. "I could fix something, if you'd like."

"Only if you share it with me."

Offering her a flirty smile that takes Santana's breath away, Brittany slips from her embrace. "That can be arranged, Quartermaster," she teases as she ties her apron on and gathers ingredients- eggs, salted pork, bread- then begins her preparations.

"You've gotten very proficient in this galley," Santana comments as she watches Brittany work, and Brittany blushes.

"I had a great teacher and plenty of time to learn," she admits. Deftly, she cracks two eggs in an iron pan and Santana can only watch in awe, her stomach growling louder as Brittany cuts the slab of salted pork into small cubes. "Do you not cook?"

Santana shakes her head slowly, smiling. "Never needed to- we've always had Kurt." Brittany offers her a chunk of the pork before dumping the rest in the pan, and Santana eats it from her fingers, her smile widening. "And now I have you."

"You do," Brittany confirms just before their lips meet again. Santana takes a moment to explore her mouth with her tongue; Brittany can taste the saltiness of the pork, and when she pulls back to breathe, she scolds, "But you make it very difficult to work."

Santana pulls her closer, locking her arms around her. "Do I?"

The sound of grease popping in the pan snaps Brittany out of her spell, and she turns back to the eggs and pork, stirring them carefully. She finishes by toasting the bread in the pan and piling the mixture on top, then hands Santana her portion.

"We are supposed to be rationing," Brittany admits guiltily as she examines her toast. "But I guess if it's for you-"

"I won't tell," Santana promises, lifting the toast to her mouth with a wink.

They eat their very early breakfast together in comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company with their arms brushing together, consciously keeping the physical contact they both long for, and, despite their exhaustion, feeling content.

But as they know, they both still have duties to attend, and Santana sighs regretfully once her toast is gone. She holds Brittany's hand, her thumb stroking the back of it as she says, "I've gotta get back topside."

Brittany smiles sadly. "And I've the fire to tend- and breakfast to start for the rest of the crew. But this is the last of the preparations..."

Santana swiftly moves forward and kisses her again, and Brittany can't help the moan that rises from her throat, or the way her heart pounds madly, or how she desperately grabs a fistful of Santana's shirt, but then Santana's pulling away, her brown eyes dull with regret.

"I'll see you..."

Brittany sighs, returning to her place by the small fire. Lord rubs against her thigh, and she pets him absently. She has one more round of brining to do, two more slabs of meat to smoke, and then she will be finished with her extra duties- and have a lot more free time.

She can't wait to see Santana again.

As promised, Kurt gives her back her time once all of their perishable items have been either cured, pickled, or smoked. That first week at sea had passed by in a hectic blur, but with the bulk of the work finished, their kitchen duties split three ways, and she has her choice of which meal shift to work. She opts to take dinner so that Elliot can work lunch and Kurt can have breakfast, for she knows that Kurt prefers the mornings, and she doesn't mind the evenings.

After her shift, which consists of preparing dinner, cleaning the galley and then setting it up for breakfast, she plans to catch some fresh air and then go to sleep, giving herself an early start the next morning. After all, she has nothing else to do, so she might as well help Kurt. She trudges tiredly up the steps, inhaling her first breath of fresh air in days and enjoying the salty ocean breeze as it whips her air. Scanning the dark horizon reveals no land in any direction- just endless waves highlighted by the dazzling moonlight. She glances up at the pitch black sky, dotted with nearly blinding stars, and feels a sense of peace settle over her.

Lord greets her suddenly by rubbing against her leg, and she bends to gift him with pets, her hand stroking between his shoulders, and he purrs happily in response. She wonders where he's been and what he's been up to, since her recent schedule has been so unpredictable. He'd visited her sporadically in the galley, but the majority of his days are a mystery.

"And what have you been up to, hm?" she ponders. He only meows in answer before padding away, and her eyes follow him into the shadows for a moment before she spots Santana, bored and reclining on a pile of coiled rope, her carving knife in hand. Lord rubs against Santana's arm before he disappears behind her, and Brittany smiles. "I see."

"Finally free of the galley?" Santana asks absently, idly slicing her knife into the block in her hand to remove material. Her right hand, still wrapped in bandages, holds the block awkwardly, and she winces every so often from the pressure as she works.

"For now," Brittany responds, moving closer. She lowers herself onto the rope pile beside Santana, feeling overjoyed at her presence, but also still so unsure about their relationship and where to go from where they are. They sit in silence for a moment, the noise of Santana's knife scraping wood drowned out by Lord's relentless purring.

"You never answered me- about Lord."

The barest smile crosses Santana's lips, but she continues to watch her knife's movements. "And what answer is that?"

"How long has he claimed you as his?"

"He's been part of this ship for five years. I found him in port- in Phiny, actually- living on the docks there. He was only a kitten. Abandoned. He came right up to me, looking so thin and pitiful that I offered him some leftover fish bones from my dinner. Look at him, now." She reaches to pet Lord, who butts his head into her palm, rubbing his face against her fingers incessantly. She smiles at the memory. "He followed me onto the ship right after, and hasn't given me a moment's peace since."

"Mow," Lord agrees, and Brittany laughs a little, feeling warm as she watches them. No matter how many times she's privy to it, she still feels special when she witnesses the private interaction, so different than the front Santana projects regarding the cat.

"He adores you," Brittany comments with a smile.

Santana shrugs. "I guess the feeling is mutual," she admits quietly.

Lord only purrs as they spend the rest of the night in each other's company, getting lost in conversation and only realizing the late hour when the sun finally peeks over the horizon. They part ways, crawling into their separate beds; Brittany's sure she hasn't slept as soundly since they left Phiny.

The next night is exactly the same, and the next, until they fall into a routine, meeting each other at no appointed time, and indulging in various activities. Some nights, Brittany sneaks them snacks- and coffee- from the galley; some nights, they stargaze, leaning against each other as the ship moves silently through the water. On a night late into their second week, Santana shows off her right hand, finally free of any bandage.

"Your hand has finished mending," Brittany observes, toying with her fingers.

Santana nods. "Mike says it's healed completely..." She tries to clench her hand into a fist, but her fingers don't close completely, her grip noticeably weaker. She flexes it clumsily, stiffly, and Brittany frowns at the jerky way her fingers curl.

"But...?"

"But I don't think it'll ever be back to normal." At Brittany's sympathetic expression, Santana forces a smile. "It's all right, Britt. It's my weak hand."

"You just need more time," Brittany reassures in a whisper.

Santana raises her gaze from where it's focused on her ruined hand, finding Brittany's eyes. "Is that it?"

Brittany nods. "Yes. I believe you'll see your strength returned, given enough practice."

Santana searches blue eyes for any sign that her words are false, that she's lying to her, but finding none, she flexes her fingers again. "I'll work at it, then."

More days pass. Every so often, they raid the galley together, and Brittany cooks them an early breakfast- since they usually sleep through it, anyway- and Santana teases her about the dull state of their kitchen knives.

"How do you cut anything with these?" she complains, twirling the knife in her left hand. She passes it to her right to repeat the gesture but fails twice, dropping the blade onto the deck and then snatching it up hastily.

"I manage," Brittany sighs, placing a calming hand on Santana's forearm to preemptively ease her frustration. Instantly, Santana feels her spiking anger dissipate, and she lays the knife on the counter. "Actually," Brittany starts, as if telling a secret, "Kurt gets David to sharpen them once they become unbearably useless."

Santana shakes her head. "Brittany- that's awful, having to rely on David, of all people." At Brittany's amused smile, she continues, "I expect you to know how to sharpen your own knives."

"And where shall I gain this coveted knowledge?" Brittany teases.

"I'll teach you."

The task occupies them for another few nights; Santana shows Brittany how to use a whetstone, how to hone an edge, how to sharpen, and it doesn't take long until Brittany's mastered the skill. On her next dinner shift, she sharpens all the knives in the galley, and she does it so well, even Kurt stops by the next evening to comment on it.

When Santana runs out of knife tricks to teach her, they move on to sparring. It's not very long into their first session when Brittany becomes aware of just how far-reaching the damage done to Santana's hand is; Santana raises her right practice sword to block her attack and she easily knocks the weapon from her grip. Shocked, she pauses in her assault, searching for something to say as Santana stands, sullenly rubbing her palm.

"I can no longer carry two swords," she admits, her voice holding notes of frustration and sadness.

"I'm sorry-"

"Do not apologize," she snaps, and Brittany would be hurt by the tone if she didn't recognize that it comes from a place of devastation. Once she realizes that her anger is sent in the wrong direction, Santana inhales deeply, closing her eyes to regain control of her rage. After a moment, she calms considerably.

"I will regain my strength," she states fiercely. "But until then, I guess I'll accept the use of only one sword."

Brittany smiles in encouragement, and Santana can't help but return it.

"Don't think you can take me lightly," she cautions, readying her stance and raising the practice sword in her left hand. "I'm still just as deadly."

They continue to practice over the coming days. Santana proves to Brittany repeatedly that she is highly skilled even with a single sword. In return, Brittany eagerly soaks up the knowledge, and she goes to sleep dreaming about mastering her new techniques and wondering what surprise will await her the following session.

There's something magical about those nights. Maybe it's the knowledge that they are stealing away together while most of the ship is sleeping that makes them feel as if they are truly alone. Lounging on deck together watching the stars, sharing bites of dried fruit over knife-sharpening lessons in the galley, and talking about anything and everything freely, without anyone to judge them, makes Brittany truly believe that she could spend the rest of her life out at sea with Santana. She knows it can't last- that someday soon they will reach their destination and that danger will once again find them- but the safe bubble they are currently living in makes her feel that nothing could ever be better than this- not even Argo- and reaffirms that she made the right choice. She's never had a best friend other than Sugar, but even then, she's never felt the depth of the connection she feels with Santana. Every day they grow closer, until Brittany doesn't feel like she usually does- for the first time, she feels whole.

Less than a week out from their planned destination, Brittany finishes her work in the galley, starts a kettle of hot water, then brews some coffee using the beans Burt had given her. Their regular coffee source had long-since depleted, and food had started to become less bountiful. They will need to either port soon or hope that Elliot's ally- and the island they reside on- exists, or risk starvation. Wistfully, Brittany remembers the giddy breakfasts she had shared with Santana mere weeks ago, but now, they sustain themselves on porridge and hardtack, granting themselves only one meal consisting of meat in order to stretch the supplies.

She shakes herself out of the memories, portioning the brown, rich liquid into two clay mugs and inhaling the delicious aroma that floats to her nose as she pours. Armed with a mug in each hand, she trudges up to the main deck and finds Santana in her usual spot, secreted among shadow near the bow of the ship. She settles down beside her, offering a mug of coffee, and Santana accepts it gratefully with a surprised, thanks, Britt.

Brittany's taking a sip of her own coffee when she hears a soft moan beside her, and finds Santana indulging in the liquid, her eyes closed in bliss. She smiles fondly over the rim of her own cup, pleased that coffee can elicit such a euphoric response from her quartermaster.

"This is amazing... I didn't think we had any coffee left."

Brittany grins. "Kurt's father gave me a special bag. I've been saving it for when we ran out of the other stuff."

"I wish we would've run out sooner," Santana jokes. She takes another long, slow sip, savoring the flavor.

They sit in comfortable silence, drinking their coffee and gazing out at the horizon, which is dark and still, except for the movement of the ocean and the light of the moon reflecting off the waves. Brittany's lost in her mind, thinking about nothing in particular, when she feels Santana's hand slide onto her thigh. Instantly, she tenses at the contact, but a glance at Santana's face reveals that she had placed it there as a show of intimacy, not to initiate something else, something carnal. Santana offers her a shy smile, and Brittany can only return it, letting her own hand move to cover Santana's on her thigh.

Santana slowly releases the breath she'd been holding, feeling her heart perform a celebratory dance in her chest over the fact that Brittany accepted her touch. She returns her absent-minded gaze to the horizon, her thoughts carrying her somewhere far away, until her eyes notice movement in the distance. She narrows her eyes to focus, her stomach dropping as the movement becomes more definitive, and she sucks in a sharp breath as she realizes what she's looking at.

Moments later, Brett's calling down her worst fear.

"OBSTRUCTION! LYCAN FLEET!" He pauses to consider. "Looks like a blockade, Quartermaster!"

"Halt the ship," Santana commands loudly, instantly on her feet. She turns to one of the riggers. "Thad, wake the Captain." The pirate scrambles away as she continues the commands: douse the lights, ready the cannons, prepare the ship for battle-

Brittany does her best to help the night crew get the ship primed. Matt is by her side minutes later, helping lead the pirates in prepping the sails for an encounter. The main deck is a blur of movement as pirates scramble to follow commands, the atmosphere charged with intense fear.

"Have they spotted us?" Puck grumbles as he appears on deck soon after Matt, his boots still unlaced and his long coat tucked under his arm. He rubs sleep out of his eyes with his free hand.

"Doesn't seem that way," Santana responds without tearing her eyes from the dots of lights lining the horizon. "Or if they have, they aren't concerned."

Puck lifts his spyglass to his eye and begins to examine the ships, studying their position, their speed, their direction. He and his officers had discussed the possibility of running into the Lycan Fleet in their many planning meetings- after all, Lycas was campaigning for new territory in the region, so it was likely they'd encounter someone. However, they did not prepare for a blockade, and a stumped Puck struggles to strategize, to come up with their next move, as they float in precious limbo.

Arty appears next, yawning, but fully dressed. He takes his position at the Ship's Wheel, sending Henry away to help elsewhere. "What's the order, Captain?"

After long moments spent in anxious silence, Puck lowers his spyglass, lost in thought. "We make no move until morning," he says finally.

"Is that wise? In the light of day, they're sure to spot us-"

"And we will determine our course of action based on their response," Puck insists. "It's only a few hours from now. We will wait."

Matt and Arty look at Santana, visibly wondering if she will veto his decision, but she remains uncharacteristically silent, lost in her own thoughts. They could sail away; they've not been noticed yet, or, if they have, they've been deemed unimportant enough to leave alone. They could simply turn the ship around and escape... allowing the last month of time spent onboard to be for naught.

Santana knows there's no other choice. They must cross the blockade- but how?

Brittany sidles up beside her as she leans on the deck railing, staring into the distance as the sun slowly rises. Their shoulders touch, and Santana's grateful for the contact, despite how tense she feels.

"No way forward," Brittany says quietly. "We're so close."

"Fucking Lycas ruining everything, as usual," David spits from her other side, roused from sleep at the same time as the rest of the crew and arguably twice as cranky.

Santana's eyebrows furrow. "There has to be a way-"

"SHIP, HO! Starboard side!" Marley calls down from the Crow's Nest, and everyone on deck freezes, waiting, turning to the right side to search for the new ship- the new threat.

"LYCAN FLEET!" she adds helpfully once she spots their ensign.

"Of course," Brittany mutters, covering her face with her hand in embarrassment.

"Shit just never gets easier, does it?" David complains sourly. With a heavy sigh, he leaves to resume his position on the gundeck with the cannons, assuming the worst.

Santana falls to Puck's side. He stands next to Mike near the starboard deck railing, scanning the new ship for information through his spyglass, and Santana waits obediently for him to finish.

"How's it look?"

"Fucking terrible," he complains, throwing his hand up dramatically and tucking his spyglass away in his pocket.

"This is probably one of the worst scenarios that could've happened," Mike agrees casually, and Puck glares at him in response.

"Should we attack first?" Arty wonders from the Ship's Wheel, and Puck lets loose a loud growl of frustration.

"We don't have much of a choice- they've probably already spotted us and are reporting our position to the blockade! The longer we hesitate, the better chance they have to mount a full-blown assault."

"Do we hoist our colors, Cap'n?" Jake calls from his assigned spot near the flag staff, and Puck shakes his head as the ship grows closer and their flags become more recognizable.

"No- it will alert every ship in the blockade that we're pirates," Puck answers, then he looks at Santana, who's remained unusually quiet during a time when she normally takes charge of the ship. "What're you thinkin'?"

Santana shakes her head slowly. "I don't think we should attack."

"I agree," Matt interjects, but Puck eyes Santana suspiciously.

"Well, that sounds touched- did you hurt your head recently?"

"She's definitely sound," Mike offers helpfully, and Santana ignores Puck's disbelief.

"That ship doesn't seem like it's concerned with us- see how it's heading straight for the blockade?"

"Could be a trap-"

"I know that flag," Brittany blurts as she moves to stand beside them, staring hard at the steadily-moving ship. The distance between the two ships grows as the seconds pass.

Mike laughs gently, but not meanly. "You don't need to pretend anymore, Green Bean."

Brittany frowns at the good-natured joke, disliking the reminder of her distant- but still sore- failure. "No, really- the rank flag- that's the crest of my father. That means..." She gasps as the realization hits her. "That's my brother's ship," she whispers.

"So we should stay even farther away," Arty concludes, having moved down from the quarterdeck to await his next order. "Especially if he's the Arkhos of the Lycan forces in this area. He has more power and a larger arsenal than we want to get involved with, I'm sure."

"Exactly," Brittany realizes. "Maybe he can help us! I know him- if I could just talk to him, maybe-"

"You really think he'll let us through the blockade?" Santana demands, her eyebrows raised in surprise as she guesses where Brittany's thoughts are heading.

Brittany shrugs. "I don't know, but it's worth a shot."

They hesitate for a moment in indecision; Puck looks at Santana, who shrugs.

"We don't really have a lot of other options, here," she reasons. "It could be our only chance."

Puck turns his gaze next to Arty and then to Matt. They both nod, with Mike adding, "I say we give it a try. We can always attack them after- if it goes sour."

Puck laughs. "Good point. Now how do we get his attention without firing a cannon at him?"

"I have an idea," Brittany admits. "But we need to get closer."

Matt smiles. "We can help with that."

Santana nods, then falls into her usual routine, snapping out sailing commands quickly while Arty hobbles back to the quarterdeck to steer them into an intercept course with the Lycan Flagship.

"What's your plan?" Mike asks as the Tide Ripper begins to pick up speed.

"Remember when we snuck into Lao?" Brittany asks.

"Of course! You nearly died-"

"Do we still have the flags we used to fool them?"

Mike thinks a moment. "Yes- they should be down in Hold Two somewhere."

"Take me to them."

Several ladders later, Mike leads her into darkness, a small lamp lighting their way as they climb into the deepest, darkest holding room of the ship. As they search, Brittany finds crates of linens, random flags, discarded uniforms, and-

"This- this will do," she says, fingering the material gently. She offers it to Mike, who studies it carefully in the semi-darkness- it's a black and gold-colored flag, with the silhouette of a black boar in the center.

Mike accepts the flag gingerly, tucking it under his arm. "Lao is one thing, but can we fool Lycas?"

Brittany meets his eyes. "We aren't fooling them- we are signaling to them."

They catch up fast, moving into a safe, but aggressive range. When the Lycan Flagship spots their raised signal flag, its course halts immediately, and the Tide Ripper slows, carefully following the instructions conveyed via signal flags for it to approach.

Brittany waits nervously on the main deck, ready to board the Lycan ship, Titan, its looming form growing ever larger as they draw closer. Her thoughts drift as she imagines the conversation about to take place and what she will say, anticipating her brother's responses. She hadn't seen him in– had it been that long already? She stands, building herself up, until Santana grabs her hand and pulls her aside, away from the actively working pirates scrambling on the main deck around her. Before she can register what's happening, Santana's placing a very familiar sheathed sword into her hand- one she knows is part of a pair.

"Brittany," she breathes. "I want you to take this."

Brittany's eyebrows shoot up in surprise as she accepts the sword, holding it carefully, as though if she breathes too hard, it will crumble into dust. She swallows thickly, her eyes searching Santana's brown ones for an explanation. "This is-"

"It's yours now," Santana mutters, averting her eyes.

"I can't take this," Brittany protests in a whisper, moving in close, turning their conversation to a much more intimate affair.

"You can, and you will," Santana orders firmly, her voice low, rough. Brittany hesitates, expecting more, which Santana gives her after a moment. "You are without a weapon, and I- I can't hold two blades, anyway..." She swallows, her own throat tightening with emotion. Brittany reaches for her hand, squeezing it quickly, as Matt shouts the commands to moor across the deck. "I want you to have it. At least until I regain my full strength."

"Of course," Brittany says softly. "I... thank you."

Santana shrugs, "You're welcome. Are you ready?"

Brittany smiles, blinking away the tears that were building in her eyes and pushing her feelings aside- for the moment. Touched and honored by Santana's gesture- but also feeling sad on her behalf- Brittany attaches the sheath of the sword to her belt at her left hip, checks the bandanna at her neck, and nods. She will revisit this moment later, but for now, she has a job to do. "Let's go."

The ship slows to a halt, and Matt, along with several other riggers, secure the boarding planks in place, connecting the Tide Ripper to the monstrously large Titan. Brittany approaches the bridge with Santana and David on either side of her, and Puck perches on the planks, ready to make contact.

The Lycan ship's captain- a brown-haired man with the surname Meeks embroidered on the front left breast of his military coat- sizes them up through thick spectacles. "I am Roderick Meeks, Captain of the Lycan Flagship Titan. State your affiliation," he commands, and Puck smiles tersely at him.

"Captain TigerShark, Tide Ripper. We wish to speak with the Arkhos."

Roderick narrows his eyes. "He is not receiving guests- especially ones who have no business flying the distinguishing flag."

"Thought so," Puck sighs, but his careless grin doesn't falter as he turns away to wave a lazy hand at Brittany. "You're up, kid."

Brittany takes a deep, steady breath as she moves forward to the edge of the bridge, flanked by Santana and David. "Captain Meeks," she calls, her confidence belying the fact that her insides feel like jelly, "I am Brittany Pierce, of Lycas. And I would like to speak to my brother."

It doesn't take long before Brittany is allowed access to the Lycan ship. Mike and Matt both surreptitiously squeeze her shoulder before she crosses, offering their support as she boards the massive Titan. Roderick escorts the trio around the main deck to the stern of the ship, and Brittany marvels at how gigantic it seems in comparison to the Tide Ripper. When they reach a wide set of steps leading down to an exterior door of what is surely a stateroom, Roderick knocks sharply, and a voice familiar to Brittany calls, Enter! from within.

"They," Roderick lifts his chin to indicate Santana and David, "will wait here." Brittany can only nod in response, her pulse picking up speed in anticipation and nervous fear. Surreptitiously, Santana reaches out to squeeze her pinky, encouraging her, and Brittany feels emboldened as she moves forward to the door, alone. Roderick opens it for her, and once the door shuts firmly behind her, Brittany releases the breath she'd been unknowingly holding as she quickly observes her surroundings.

Her brother, Spencer, sits behind a large desk, which is littered with scrolls and war-maps. Behind him, the wall is adorned with bookshelves overflowing with worn, well-read books, and a tall, thin man she recognizes as her brother's attendant stands beside the desk, setting up a silver tray with intricately-decorated, luxurious tea service, his long hair tied back in a neat ponytail.

Once the tray is settled, Spencer waves the man away with a gentle smile. "That will do, Alistair. Leave us, please." The tall servant bows respectfully with a humble, my lord, before slipping away through a door on the right, into an adjoining room. Ignoring the tense atmosphere that settles on them once they are officially alone, Spencer stands, pouring tea slowly into the two cups. "So the rumors are true," he starts in a soft, experimental tone. "My sister- an outlaw." He checks her response out of the corner of his eye, and when she remains silent, he lifts one of the tea cups carefully, bringing it around the obnoxiously large desk in offering as he regards her with careful, guarded eyes. "Father's displeased."

Brittany stands taller but rolls her eyes as she accepts the teacup. "There are a great many things I care about far more than Father's delicate feelings."

"Hah!" Spencer barks, finally cracking a genuine smile. "You care not that he's been utterly consumed by the details and rumors surrounding your kidnapping? Brittany- how savage of you." He reaches up to flick at her earring affectionately. "A true pirate."

Brittany smiles at the action, politely taking a seat when Spencer gestures for her to make herself comfortable. Once settled across the desk from her brother, she waits for him to sit, as well, before she lifts the teacup to her lips, slightly pleased that her brother mimics her action almost automatically. The familiarity makes Brittany feel warm in a distant way- but the tea is much too bitter. She reaches for cream and sugar.

"Well, then- let's get right to it. Why have you come to see me?" He stirs more honey into his tea. "Surely it's not solely to flaunt your new status as a criminal?"

"We are simply sailing through," Brittany informs. "But I humbly request you allow us passage to Orias."

Spencer stares at her, stunned. "Quite the bold request... and what business draws you there? As you know, Father has assets that must be protected. Am I to assume you have mind to pirate them?"

"I am well aware of Father's assets, but we have no desire to go anywhere near them. We have business elsewhere- we are searching for someone."

"And you expect me to trust you?" Spencer laughs in disbelief. He stares hard into her eyes, studying her. "I look at you and barely recognize the sister I knew."

Brittany smiles, feeling nostalgic. "I once felt the same, gazing upon my transformed reflection."

Spencer laces his fingers and rests his chin on his thumbs. "You're so... different. But I cannot say it's not for the best- you have seen the world."

"I may have changed," Brittany agrees, "but I am still your sister, and wish no harm upon you. Will you grant us passage through the blockade?"

Spencer pauses, debating. "I should seize your ship and return you home," he considers. Then, he laughs bitterly. "But I grow tired of these endless campaigns. I have suffered yet another crippling defeat in Callyst; I wish to return home, and care for naught else. So- I will allow you to pass... but if you betray me-"

"You have my word," Brittany promises. "We will do only as I have said, and then leave. We wish no quarrel with Lycas."

Spencer releases a loud, heavy sigh, rubbing his face with his palm. "I never could tell you no." Brittany finishes her tea as he opens a drawer in the desk, rummaging for a moment. When he removes a folded black pennant and hands it to her, he instructs, "Fly this below the distinguished flag. It will grant you the passage you seek."

Brittany accepts the pennant with care, tucking it under her arm as she stands to leave. "Thank you, Spencer."

Her brother nods, standing respectfully, as well. "Go now, in peace. And Brittany?"

"Yes."

He smiles. "I missed you. It brings my heart joy to see you are well."

Brittany returns the smile, then, without thinking, moves to wrap him in a tight hug. "You, too." When he crushes her in his embrace in return, she feels emotion rising, tears building, but she cannot show weakness- a true pirate would never.

And now, for certain- by decree of her brother, who stands for all of Lycas- she is a true pirate.

They're tensely sailing past the Lycan blockade hours later, half-expecting cannons to begin firing the moment they move into range- but nothing disturbs them, and they continue their journey without any more delay. It's still three days of sailing to reach the very tip of Orias, and another half-day to locate the small island off its coast.

Treated as a hero upon her return, Brittany is congratulated, thanked, hugged, slapped on the back- and Santana watches fondly, proud beyond measure that once again, Brittany has saved all of their asses. She ponders at the common occurrence, trying to discern if the woman is good luck- like a swallow- or if she is just simply more clever than they all give her credit for. Whatever the reason, Santana gave up underestimating her the first time they boarded the Orchid Heart and made the discovery of the platinum that has fully funded their entire current journey.

"We should celebrate," she informs Puck, who stands beside her on the quarterdeck, also watching Brittany be regarded as the ship's champion by the surrounding crew.

Puck stares at her out of the corner of his eye. "Why? We haven't done anything, yet."

Santana leans on the railing before her, her gaze never straying from the small, cheery group below. "We made it past the blockade, which is no small feat."

Puck scoffs. "You sure you're all right? The old you would never..." He laughs in disbelief. "You've grown soft-"

"I have grown weary," she snaps in defense. "And so has the rest of the crew. A night to drink and be merry might restore their spirits." She pauses to evaluate Puck's response, and once she determines that he is considering her words and exhibits the receptiveness she seeks, she continues. "They're all growing restless. You didn't let us pirate-"

"It's too risky," Puck agrees firmly. "What if the ship got damaged? And now, even so close to our destination, we can't- surrounded by Lycan waters? We would get wrecked-"

"Not now, idiot. But any damage from before we could've gotten fixed in Orias," Santana reasons. "We have a truce with Lycas, so they are of no concern. But there are other ships-"

"We can't afford more delays," Puck sighs. "We're too close."

"Then let them have this night," Santana pleads, her eyes fierce with passion. "When we reach Orias, we have no idea what trials next await us. This could be our last chance before we sail to uncertain doom."

"You mean the last chance for you to fuck Brittany," Puck mutters, and Santana punches him hard in the arm.

"Idiot," she hisses, angry and unsure if she's offended or not. "This is not about me; you need to win back their respect-"

Puck sighs, reluctantly giving in. "Fine; you're right. Give word to anchor at dusk. Kurt can oversee a feast with whatever we have left, and we will break out the last of the rum from below." He stares grimly out at the horizon, scanning again for any threats. Finding none, he steps down from the quarterdeck, calling over his shoulder, "Let's hope that wherever we're going has supply enough to restock us for our next venture."

"We are to prepare a feast?" Brittany wonders, laying a large slab of ham out onto the table for slicing.

"As ordered by our confusing Captain," Kurt confirms grumpily, unhappy with the fact that he must work late into the night. He'd gotten used to spending his evenings with David down in the armory. "I'm not sure it's a smart idea to use up the last of our supplies when we have no idea where to acquire more, but-"

"No need to worry about that," Elliot reassures from his spot beside their clean water barrel. He fills a giant pot with water from the tap. "Once we reach the island, we will be well supplied."

"If you say so," Kurt shrugs, not believing him for a second. "I suppose we can always pirate a ship if need be."

"Not a Lycan one," Brittany murmurs, picking up a large knife to begin her portioning. "I promised my brother."

Kurt smiles. "Of course. I'll fetch Sugar to help."

It takes the four of them the rest of the day to pull off the feast that Puck demanded, the details communicated to them via Arty at lunchtime. With the help of Jake and David, they use barrels and lashed-together planks to create a makeshift long table supported against the main mast, meant to hold the spread of foods they had prepared. Piles of roasted fish, slabs of salted pork, the last of their dried fruit, fresh bread with jam and butter, boiled eggs, pickles, and a giant pot of Elliot's hodgepodge stew greet the surprised pirates as they assemble on deck at their Quartermaster's command. They mill about in confusion as the sun sets behind them and Jake lights the lanterns on deck.

When the majority of the crew has gathered, Puck climbs onto a crate to gain their attention, the last rays of the sun's light casting orange shadows across his features. "It's been over a year since we set out on this mad journey," he starts carefully, and Brittany wonders how much of that journey she had missed- how long before stealing her had they set upon this path? She counts the months in her head, startled at the realization that she's spent the better part of the mentioned year with the pirates. It feels like only yesterday she was sailing into uncertain waters in search of Argo, but now...

Brittany returns her focus to Puck's speech in time for him to say, "I know we have accomplished some crazy things." Several of the pirates shout supportive noises at his words. "We broke into Lao-"

"Yeah!"

"Here, here!"

"-we defeated a sea dragon-"

"Barely!

"We did it!"

"-incredible!"

"-and we've had some close calls." He gazes meaningfully at Santana. "But we are all here, closer than ever. I don't know what the future holds," he admits, spreading his hands in a gesture of honesty. Santana rolls her eyes discreetly behind him, causing Brittany to giggle behind her hand. "We may very well end up on another mad journey a week from now..."

"Lead us, Cap'n!"

"We'll follow you!"

With a wicked grin, Puck slams his fist into his other palm. "But tonight is not the future- it's tonight, so let's enjoy it!"

The pirates cheer, and Puck moves to open the tap on the barrel of rum, filling the mug that's suddenly in his fist. He lifts it in a toast, then chugs it to the supportive, wild screams of his crew. The deck breaks out in joyful festivities, and Brittany's grateful for the instantly elevated mood.

Immediately, she's distracted by her friends greeting her, surrounding her- friends that, up until she'd returned from the Titan, she hadn't seen very often due to their separate duties and schedules. She's overtaken with the sudden social interaction, with the unfamiliar contact- her only company lately had been Santana and Lord. She searches for her lover, but David's wrapping her in a bear hug, and Sugar's shaking a piece of sweet bread at her- bread that she'd made- and her attention is forced on her present company. She hasn't even had time to fill a mug with rum when she's tapped on the shoulder, and she turns to find Santana offering her a cup with a smirk. She accepts it with a playful smile, bringing it to her lips.

At the familiar taste, her eyebrows rise, and Santana shrugs. "It's bumbo."

"How did you make this?"

"I can't give away all my secrets," she teases slyly, and Brittany only continues to smile as she takes a long drink from her cup.

The rest of the night passes in a blur- Brittany hadn't consumed spirits during their entire voyage, and she becomes intoxicated quickly. Despite rum being a staple for the rest of her crew's daily diet, she hadn't thought to have any, following Kurt's example; she was never lacking in nourishment, anyway, privileged as she was working in the galley. Santana stays by her side the whole evening, discreetly touching her elbow, her forearm, her hand brushing her waist, reminding her of her comforting presence. It makes Brittany feel warm- or is that the rum?

Much later in the night, they find themselves in the company of Kitty and Marley, who partake in the festivities as much as any other pirate, but who stand apart awkwardly, avoided by a majority of the crew for their prior affiliation with the Blood Siren.

"How are you enjoying your first party?" Brittany asks warmly, offering them a friendly smile.

"It's... different," Kitty admits cautiously, her eyes never straying from the drunken movements and dancing of the other pirates before her. "Something like this would never sail with the Lioness."

Brittany hums sympathetically. "That's unfortunate."

Kitty smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Only because we never knew otherwise- a naivety that can no longer be preserved."

Unsure how to respond, Brittany takes a hesitant sip of her bumbo, her mood starting to drag the longer she stays in Kitty's company.

"You must be really special," Kitty comments, and Brittany raises a questioning eyebrow, then follows her gaze to find Santana, engaged in conversation with Marley. They both laugh, and Brittany feels her stomach clench with fear but also with how beautiful Santana looks under the warm glow of the ship's lanterns.

"Why do you say so?"

"To win the love of Ira Del Diablo?" Kitty asks incredulously. "Her name is legendary- both in fighting skill and in reputation."

"Is that so?" Brittany swallows, her throat feeling suddenly dry, despite the amount of alcohol she'd consumed. Her mind spins from the insinuation, and she quickly takes another large gulp of her drink.

Kitty nods, smirking. "Oh, I've heard countless tales of the hearts she's broken. It was said she would never settle down." She leans in. "But congrats, Princess- you've tamed the devil."

Brittany stares absently into the distance as Kitty turns away to talk to Sugar, doubts forcing their way into her mind. Has she tamed the devil? Did Santana truly belong to her, now? In all their conversations, had they ever talked about the boundaries of their relationship- if there even is one? She wracks her brain, struggling to recall a time when they'd defined anything, but finds none, and the thought saddens her. If they've never talked about it, then has she truly won Ira Del Diablo's love?

Santana returns to her side absent Marley, offering her a genuine smile, and Brittany pushes her fear and paranoia down as she returns it and enjoys the rest of the feast. When the night winds down, she reluctantly parts from Santana to help Kurt clear away the main deck and clean, but he stills her movement. When she questions him, he just smiles at her knowingly.

"You're the hero tonight, Britt," he teases. "You get the night off."

"But-"

"Don't worry- Elliot and I will take care of it."

She glances at Elliot for confirmation.

"I guess," he huffs, annoyed and waving his hand at her in a shooing motion.

Feeling awkward for continuously being rewarded for something she felt is undeserved- all she did was speak to her own brother, after all- Brittany thanks them both before making her way to Santana's cabin and knocking hesitantly on the door.

When Santana answers, her black shirt unbuttoned and sliding off her left shoulder, Brittany struggles not to let her jaw drop.

"Hey," Santana greets, her eyes widening in surprise as she scrambles to pull her shirt on properly even though it's painfully obvious that she had just taken it off.

Without any preamble, Brittany lunges forward and kisses her fiercely. "Kurt gave me the night off," she breathes in explanation when she pulls back, and Santana smiles, pulling her inside before shutting the door.

It doesn't take them long before they're tangled up on Santana's bed, their mouths locked together in a heated dance. With Brittany's warm skin pressed against her, Santana feels her pulse quickening, especially when Brittany shifts and her thigh slips between her legs, pressing up against her hot, already damp center, eliciting a low moan. Santana contemplates the feel of that thigh, her mind racing with possibilities in a way she's never had before, her sex aching for more contact. Anytime she's been with a girl- though admittedly, with a lot less intimacy involved- there was never a question or concern about whether sex was attainable. But with Brittany, she analyzes every movement, every subtle shift of her hips, every sharp intake of breath, to discern where they stand. After all, she can't just ask, can she?

She breaks the kiss they're currently locked in and pulls back a little, struggling to regain her senses. Gazing down into dark, deep blue, her stomach tightens with want so strong it makes her feel weak in an unfamiliar way, reminding her that Brittany still holds so much power over her.

"Britt..."

The woman in question leans up to kiss her neck, and Santana sucks in a sharp breath in response. Brittany's mouth moves to nip at her jaw, then her nose brushes her cheek, and then Brittany giggles, burying her face in her neck. Santana feels her smile against her shoulder. "My head is spinning."

Santana freezes at the evidence that Brittany is in no state to do this with her- a frequent barrier of her desires. However, she knows that Brittany deserves to unwind, and as she has been for weeks, she's content with intimacy over sex. She tightens her arm around her, pulling her closer, and Brittany settles against her, exhausted. "It's all right, I've got you."

"You're so warm," Brittany mumbles drowsily, nuzzling into her.

Santana closes her eyes and listens to her heartbeat, feeling her breaths against her chest, and then, just as she's starting to drift off herself, Lord peeks his head over the bed, his eyes conveying confusion.

"Looks like you'll have to share me tonight, Lord," Santana tells him softly, beckoning him up with a few pats on the blanket. Once on the bed, Lord doesn't seem to mind Brittany's presence; purring, he investigates their bodies for a moment before finding a spot between them to tuck himself into. Santana feels Brittany smile again against her shoulder, and as Lord continues to purr, his furry little body snug between them, Santana feels unfamiliar warmth filling her chest. As she slips off into blissful sleep, her arms cradling Brittany close for the first time in her new bed, she feels complete in a way she's never felt before... but somehow, she knows, innately, that it's something she cannot live without now that she's found it.

"There's no dock," Matt reports from the bow of the ship. "We will have to anchor out and row a small crew in."

Santana nods cautiously. "I'll take my usual crew, then: David, Mike, Brittany, Sugar, and then add Kitty and Marley-"

"I'm seeing a trend here," Puck teases. "I'll leave Arty and Matt with the rest of the ship while we go and meet this- mystic."

Minutes later, the chosen landing party gathers at the aft boat deck, waiting as Mike and David lower the rowboat into the water, then roll the rope ladder over the side. As David rows them to shore, Santana takes in the island of Klu, which has got to be, in her opinion, one of the most unwelcoming islands she's ever laid eyes on.

First off, the island is surrounded by large rocks, hindering any ships from getting close. Upon running the rowboat aground on the seemingly deserted beach, they are met with impassable, dark woods that prevent and restrict any passage through.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Santana mutters as she studies the treeline, searching for a path or an opening.

"She doesn't have a lot of visitors here," Elliot confirms, then snarls, "and even less now that there's a barrier of scum. But she will help us."

"How do you know each other?" Mike asks casually as they begin to chop and hack their way through tangles of vines, brambles, and low-hanging tree branches. Within moments, they're sweating from the exertion and humidity, their clothes drenched.

"She used to be a wanderer," Elliot explains, "She spent time in my village, long ago- befriended my father."

Puck glances at his face. "'Long ago'... Exactly how long ago?"

Elliot shrugs. "Maybe two eights of years-"

"And you haven't seen her since then?"

"Seen her? No. She is not seen. She sees."

"What," David starts in a conspiratorial whisper, "the everlovin' fuck is he talkin' about?"

"Then, how-?" Kitty agrees under her breath, shaking her head.

Brittany nods, having heard the story before- Elliot had told it to her only about seven times in the galley, during the unfortunate short times when their shifts overlapped. Though still without an inkling of an idea of what Elliot is talking about, she's at least relieved to know that his story is consistent.

Santana, however, raises a doubtful eyebrow. "And you're sure she's here?"

Elliot smiles. "Oh, I'm more than sure." He closes his eyes. "We have spoken many times." He gently touches the tattoo on his forearm, stroking it reverently with his fingertips, then opens his eyes suddenly. "This way. She's waiting."

Puck and Santana share a quizzical look before shrugging and following after. They haven't much of a choice, really.

Mike laughs hesitantly, taking a swing at a branch blocking his path. "This whole thing is nuts."

They creep deeper into the forest, which somehow becomes even darker, making navigation impossible. Elliot leads them onward, as though guided, and if the pirates thought themselves absent choice before, the surrounding forest- revealing no discernible path- proves that they are utterly at Elliot's mercy.

After what seems like hours in the pitch blackness, the trees suddenly end, and they reach a small clearing, which is just as dark as the surrounding woods.

"This is it? There's nothing here," Puck huffs, struggling to catch his breath in the thick, humid air.

"You do not see," Elliot mumbles gruffly, rolling his eyes. He strolls into the clearing, and, with a helpless shrug and a shared look, Brittany and Santana follow.

They take a total of three steps into the clearing before their scenery changes completely; suddenly, the clearing becomes illuminated with nearly tangible moonbeams that crisscross and shine on a small, humble cottage. Surrounding the cottage is a myriad of systems geared towards supporting life- a raised garden bed with vegetable plants, tanned pelts spread out to dry, water-collecting devices, beautiful flowers... Brittany thinks it looks magical- like where a fairy or other spritely creature from one of her favorite childhood stories might live. Adding to the strangeness of the sight, stakes rise up from the ground, displaying broken jars and colored glass.

David gulps. "The fuck am I lookin' at?"

"How is this possible?" Mike wonders out loud, but no one answers as they all slowly approach the house.

Elliot does not knock, but simply opens the door. Inside, the house is quite a bit larger than it would seem, and he leads them without distraction straight to a large room in the back. Once they all are through the doorway, it shuts, making David jump. They're alone for only a moment, trying to process the weird energy pulsing through the house and the strange, unfamiliar décor.

Then, as if appearing from thin air, a broad, dark-skinned woman appears, sitting cross legged on a pillow on the floor before them. Her rich, ebony skin is covered with intricate, detailed tattoos highlighted in gold. In her hand she holds a long, thin pipe, and she regards them without opening her eyes, her face turning to each of them. They stand in uncomfortable, shocked silence for long moments, and then the woman speaks.

"Hello, pirates. Starchild has told me of your coming, and what it is you seek."

When she opens her dark eyes, Brittany gasps. Behind her intense black irises, an eerie, ethereal silver light glows. Santana touches Brittany's hand in response, reassuring her, and the woman smiles, her full lips curling at the corners.

"No need to be afraid; I am Unique- the last true mystic of Cyre- and I have been to the Immortal Spring."

OKAY SO. The next few chapters are about to get WILD, ya'll. Hope you'll still be reading when they do! I'm really trying to stick to my 3-month updates, so see you this summer sometime with the next chapter!

As always, I'd love to hear from you! But if you want to lurk, then lurk away, dear readers~

See you next time, pals! :D