Chapter Seven: Fortitude

Three days. They had been at sea for three days already. Norns, how did Thor find any of this exciting?

Loki pressed a palm to his forehead, wishing he could physically push away the pressure that was building within. He needed to get out of here. But there was nowhere to go. The sunlight streaming in through the windows of the captain's quarters only seemed to mock him, promising a beautiful world outside that was nothing more than an endless expanse of blue, blue, blue in every direction.

Irritated, Loki grabbed a quill and dipped it in the little pot of ink that he had found in the desk that he had shoved into the corner of the small room to make space for his bed. Sneering at the primitive writing tool, he drew an X over the marker for Tortuga on the map covering the desk.

It was difficult to estimate where they were compared to the map, the hand drawn image being questionable at best. How could the mortals draw a map with any level of accurate detail when they could not even see the area from above? And how was he supposed to track their movements when the constellations were so hard to follow?

Tossing the quill aside, Loki took a deep breath. Calm. It was a constant reminder to himself. He had to be calm about all of this if he wanted his sanity to remain intact. No matter how difficult the task was going to be.

Once he was sure that he was no longer in danger of punching a hole through the side of the ship, Loki looked again at the map. If – and it was a very big if – the map could be believed, then there were several islands that they did not need to bother to visit. The one that he and Thor had used had been small enough that they had crossed the distance of it within a day, but it had been a long day. That eliminated the large islands and the incredibly small ones, but that still left plenty of similarly sized ones to investigate. Not to mention that Heimdall might have been cruel enough to drop them on the exact opposite side of the planet of where they needed to go, but Loki tried not to think about that. One complication at a time.

He traced over the intended route with his finger, trying to think of a more efficient way to go about it. At least once they hit the eastern cluster of islands, they would be a much smaller distance apart, but still. They had already been on Midgard for over a week, and it had been more than long enough for him.

Grabbing the smaller compass that he kept in the room, Loki checked their direction. That morning, he had told Thor to start shifting south, but they were still going mostly east. What was he doing!?

Tenuously holding onto that calm feeling, Loki emerged from the captain's quarters and hurried up onto the quarterdeck. He expected to see Thor at the helm, but instead Barton was at the post, looking pleased with himself. Confused, Loki spotted Thor on the other side of the deck, holding up a telescope.

"What are you doing?"

Thor lowered the spyglass, an excited grin lighting up his face. "We found a mark!"

"What?"

Not explaining further, Thor pulled him over and handed him the spyglass. Loki lifted it up, letting Thor guide it to the proper spot beyond the port side of the bow. And felt that last bit of calm burst into flames.

Loki pulled his head back, tossing the scope back at Thor. "Really, Thor? You know, we're not actually here to be pirates!" he hissed.

Thor looked affronted. "I know that. But we do need a loyal crew, and what better way to inspire loyalty than to start off with a prize?"

Not giving him time to protest that logic, Thor called out loudly, "Gentlemen, we have a mark! Get ready for battle!"

The crew on deck cheered loudly, bustling about as Barton shouted more specific orders. Loki pressed both palms to his head this time, desiring nothing more than to collapse his own skull. Thor seemed oblivious, going down to watch the crew prepare.

"Loki, stop worrying."

Loki glanced up, surprised to see Barton addressing him. The man continued confidently, "It'll be fine. Even if you and your brother are new to this life, I'm not, and I don't go into battles that I can't win."

Was it truly that obvious that he and Thor had no clue how to lead a ship? Cautiously, Loki asked, "What makes you think we're new to this?"

Barton gave him a knowing look. "I'm good at reading people. You're new to sailing but not new to fighting. Army men, I'd wager."

Well, it was not an entirely inaccurate assumption. So, Loki said nothing, preferring to let the man think what he wanted to think. But he would have to keep an eye on this one, this oddly perceptive mortal.

The gundeck was in chaos as Jane struggled to strap her sword onto her waist. She had barely ever used the blasted thing, Uncle Erik only letting her practice the basics with some bored crewmen back when she had run away on his ship over a decade ago. As for a pistol, well, she would rather go her whole life without touching one if she could manage it.

The rest of the crew was already scrambling to hand out muskets and roll the cannons into position. Unsure of where to start, she flinched as the master-at-arms impatiently brushed past her, shouting commands. The man was a quiet, stoic one who only had one arm, but he knew how to order men about.

"Cooper! Help Pietro load the guns."

Oh, bugger. Jane cursed under her breath as she raced to follow the blond boy to the magazine. As much as she hated the idea of being the one to actually shoot the cannons and hurt people on another ship, it was still better than being a powder monkey. Who in their right mind would trust her to carry gunpowder?

Thanking Providence that she managed to make it there and back without tripping over anyone in the madness, she handed off the cartridges to Scott and ran off again to fetch the next load. In the distance, she heard the call of "Fire!" The boom of the cannons echoed painfully in her ears.

Maybe becoming a pirate had not been the wisest choice.

Truth be told, Thor had never felt so alive.

The cannons firing off from the side of the ship – or really, guns in general – were not suitable weapons for an Asgardian to wield; they killed too indiscriminately for there to be any honor in it. But with his body being much more susceptible to damage these days, and the weaponry being far less deadly than, say, the guns of the Kree, it did not feel dishonorable. In fact, it felt downright exhilarating.

He had been more than happy to let Barton steer for this part, letting him command as they issued volley after volley and dodged the returning fire. His blood pumped faster and faster with each shot, not even caring that the sword on his hip should have been a hammer. The other ship did not stand a chance.

In seemingly no time at all, Barton called out to stop the cannons; the other ship had been crippled, and they were pulling alongside to board. As they came in closer, Thor had to duck; the other crew was shooting at them. The cowards!

Giving in fully to the bloodlust, Thor roared as he swung across to the other ship. Whether Asgardian or Midgardian, a sword was still a sword, and his was still plenty sharp enough to do its job even without his usual strength.

Loki held the wheel steady, not deigning to participate in this folly any more than he had to. Barton had easily agreed to be relieved of the job, eagerly moving on to climb the rigging and take down targets with a bow and arrow that he had pulled from Heimdall knew where.

But at least Thor seemed to be enjoying his pointless endeavor. Maybe this would at last get that ridiculous need for piracy out of his system. Was this lawlessness really that appealing to him? Where was the challenge in cutting down such weak beings?

Grousing irritably to himself, Loki flinched as a stray shot struck the railing, blowing the wood to bits and his composure to Hel. Damn it all! Did Thor realize how reckless this was? They were not nearly as indestructible as they used to be, and they had no way to fix any damage that such a fight might inflict upon them.

Suddenly very impatient to get out of this petty battle, Loki scanned the other ship for Thor. He was still happily slicing his way through the idiots who really ought to have given up by now if they had had any sense at all. And yet… Loki groaned. Thor was being careless. With the mortals collapsing so easily under his press, he was leaving himself open to attack from behind. His brother was so accustomed to having his precious Warriors Three protect his flank that he likely failed to realize the danger of being on his own.

Loki glared at the wheel beneath his hands. He had no idea what the consequences would be if he left the wheel unattended, and there was no one else around to take it from him.

Quickly locating Thor again as he pushed down yet another foolish mortal, Loki watched in horror as a new one approached from behind, aiming a sword directly for the spot Thor was not guarding. Shit, shit, shit!

His rising panic cut off, though, as a clang rang through the air. Another sword had blocked the enemy from landing the blow. Who…? Shock replaced every drop of dread as he took in his brother's savior. The girl? How?

No, really, how? His gaze stayed fixed on her, taking in her absolutely atrocious form and complete lack of skill. It had to have been pure, dumb luck that kept both of them from getting stabbed right then and there.

Thankfully, Thor seemed to realize that he had an attacker behind him and swiftly dispatched of the man. As the man fell, the rest of the opposing crew dropped their arms; he must have been their captain.

As for their own crew, Loki blocked out their cheers and dropped his head to rest against the wheel. Thank the Norns that was over.

And so help him if Thor ever made them do that again.

Breathing heavily as his heartrate returned to normal, Thor watched as a few of his men rounded up the remainder of the other ship's crew. He was ready to keep battling, but there was no outlet for the rest of his energy; there was no fight left to be had. It was disappointing, really.

But as for what needed to happen now, he was unsure. No one had ever explained what pirates did after capturing their prey. Seeing Barton finally dropping down to rejoin the men on the deck, he called him over.

"As bosun, what do you think we should do with these survivors?" he asked, feigning casualness.

Barton raised a brow at him but replied in his usual, cool tone, "You can offer to let them join our crew; we could always use a few more men. And if they don't want to, then put them in a dinghy and sink the ship."

Thor pretended to think about it before agreeing. Walking over to the group of ten angrily glaring men, Thor made his offer. "Whichsoever of you fine gents wishes to join me and my crew aboard the Black Raven, you will be most welcome. The rest of you can take the longboat and try to find refuge wherever you may."

They were a stubborn lot, Thor surmised, not a one of them saying a word. Waiting a few more seconds for any of them to change their minds, Thor called out, "Mr. Barton! Please escort our guests to their new vessel."

One of the ten looked up at that. Thor ignored him, but Barton stopped in his tracks, a look of disbelief crossing his face. "Nat? Is that you?"

"Clint? What are you doing here?" the man asked incredulously, breaking away from the group. Barton hugged the petite man warmly, the movement knocking the man's hat off to reveal a cascade of flame red hair. Huh.

With a nod to Barton, Thor left them behind, crossing back over to his own ship. If Barton wanted to try to convince the woman to stay, that was no concern of his. As for him, all Thor wanted now was to properly clean his sword and think about how to make the next battle last longer.

"Did you see Captain Thor?"

"I know, he was like some demigod from the old myths."

"I've never seen someone so skilled with a sword before!"

Jane sat with her back resting against the wall outside the infirmary, holding a rag to her forearm and listening to Scott and Quill's gossip from down the hall. It was amusing to listen to the pair of them; even after a battle, they were still their energetic selves. And as she had a limited perspective from which to evaluate the captain's fighting abilities, it was also informative.

A different voice chimed in. "I wonder what our share of the gains will be." That was Rumlow, she was pretty sure. A piece of work if ever she had met one, always glaring and complaining about money.

"It's got to be good. That hold was filled to the brim with sugar."

Before Jane could listen for the response, the door next to her swung open. The master-at-arms – Mr. Barnes, she remembered at last – emerged, looking as ill-tempered as ever. He ignored her as he went on his way, barking for Pietro to come and clean up a trail of gunpowder on the floor.

"Cooper, was it?" The question came from Banner, the only crew member who had any medical knowledge and who had reluctantly agreed to treat all of the wounds from the battle.

Jane nodded and got up, slipping into the room. It was not much, just a cabinet filled with supplies, a small table, and two chairs. Taking a seat, she laid her arm out on the table.

Banner pulled away the rag, dabbing at the excess blood. "Hmm, doesn't look too bad." He reached into the cabinet to grab a bottle and some bandages.

Jane gasped as Banner poured a liberal amount of rum over the cut on her forearm. The man shot her an apologetic look but was no less firm in holding her arm in place as he wrapped it in a bandage.

"Thank you," she managed, wincing internally at the breathiness of her voice. Out of any of the crew, this man was the most likely to recognize that she was not being honest, and she was not entirely certain that he had not already.

"You're welcome," the man replied wearily, cleaning up his supplies. She had been the last one to be treated, though thankfully the wounds on everyone had been minor. "Not like I had much of a choice."

She rolled down the sleeve of her shirt, covering up the bandage. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that when I signed on, I told Loki that I didn't want to be a surgeon for the ship," the man said, letting out a self-deprecating chuckle. "And yet here I am, unable to stop myself."

"Isn't that a good thing? You're helping people."

He snorted. "No, not really. I'm not fit to be a doctor anymore."

"Well, I think you did a fine job of it." She waved her arm a bit. "See, no more blood pouring out."

He rolled his eyes, though not without some amusement. "Go rest, Cooper. And make sure you tell me if it's still bleeding tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

Leaving the peculiar man behind in the infirmary, Jane made her way to the top deck. The sun was starting to set in the distance, painting the sky with purple and red. Her stomach growled, begging her to find whatever scraps were left in the galley, but she did not want to be trapped below deck for the night so soon.

Leaning against the railing, she breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with beautiful, clean air. Yes, this was what she needed, something to wipe away the memory of the day.

"Cooper."

Wanting to groan at the interruption, Jane looked around to find the quartermaster beckoning her to the helm. Loki. Such an odd name.

Mounting the stairs with trepidation, she wondered what he could possibly want. She had yet to see him speak directly to anyone other than the captain, Mr. Barton, and Peter. Frankly, she was rather amazed that he even remembered her false name.

"Sir?"

"Cooper, I wanted to thank you for your bravery," he started offhandedly, not even looking at her. "You saved your captain from a deadly blow today."

Definitely not anywhere in the realm of what she would have ever expected him to say. Shocked, Jane barely managed to get out, "Thank you, sir." Though, honestly, it had been less bravery and more impulsiveness. She barely remembered making a conscious decision from the moment she had stepped foot on the other ship; every bit of it had been pure survival instinct.

He seemed not to notice her discomfort, though, continuing, "However, I'm amazed that you were of any help since you have no skill whatsoever."

Jane's jaw dropped. It was somewhat true, but still, he did not have to outright insult her to her face. "I wouldn't say I have no skill," she tried to defend. "And at least I was trying my best."

He shot her an amused look, his grey-green eyes sparkling with mirth. "If that was your best, I'd hate to see your worst."

The nerve of him! "Well, if I'm so terrible, how about next time you do the fighting, and I will stay behind to keep the ship even."

"Yes, I do believe that would be preferable." He smirked at her outrage. "But if you're going to be using a weapon at all, you should still learn to use it properly."

Jane opened her mouth to let loose an angry retort on what exactly she thought a proper use for a sword would be in that moment, but an approaching Mr. Barton cut her off. "Is everything all right here?"

Flustered and flushing, Jane snapped her jaw shut and nodded sharply, realizing in horror that she had forgotten to keep her head ducked. "Yes. Excuse me." Not waiting for permission, she turned on her heel and hurried back down the stairs. She could hear Loki make a comment to Mr. Barton, and though she could not make out the words themselves, she just knew it was something snide.

Telling herself to let it go, a renewed flush warmed her cheeks. A real sailor would never talk back to a superior like that. She would have to be more careful with her temper lest she shatter her ruse completely.

A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting this - I'm never happy with how my action/fight scenes come out. Hope you enjoyed anyway!