A/N: Sorry this has been so long in coming. I've been inspired by all the good news about Carson. Check out savecarson dot com and you'll know what I mean!

Carson was utterly exhausted. Not only had Rodney done a clumsy job of removing the wooden splinters from his back as he worked to save the dying crewmen littering the floor of the crew quarters around him, but it was well into the night and working by the light of the oil lanterns was beginning to put a serious strain on his eyes. Most of the crew were slumbering uneasily in their hammocks, and a few more sat idly against the hull, dozing.

Rodney hadn't let him out of his sight yet, though. His arms were folded surreptitiously under his head against the roughness of the deck, which was covered by splinters that had been strewn everywhere in the blasts, and his legs twitched spasmodically as he dreamt. It wasn't that Carson didn't appreciate Rodney, but all he was concerned with at the moment was helping the dying man lying next to him, and the primitive knife and dirty fabric for bandages he'd been given to work with weren't of much help. Most of the crew had been grateful of his ministrations and had even helped by offering up a portion of their alcoholic rations upon being asked, but a few, including Sonnal, were too concerned with their own grief to give consideration to his demands no matter how qualified he insisted he was to help the wounded.

Eventually, Carson finally finished doing what he could and sat back, intent on resting for just long enough to make sure he didn't accidentally kill his next patient. The soft slosh of water against the hull of the ship was surprisingly comforting as his eyes drifted closed.

The uneven tapping of booted footsteps across the deck moving toward him didn't immediately register in Carson's mind. He was far too tired to care who was moving about to relieve himself over the gunwalls of the deck… until a blunt object suddenly came into contact with his skull. Without a word or hardly even a sound, he was then only vaguely aware of being dragged up toward the main deck.

Slowly, as he began to come around, he became aware of the fact that his hands had been bound behind him and that his ankles were wrapped with a heavy chain attached to a large weight that resembled a cannonball. Attempting to blink away some of the pounding in his head, he looked around and then up at the figure standing over him swathed in shadows.

A bottle was being eagerly raised to the shadowy person's lips. The stench of drunkenness wafted from the man as he staggered, but Carson was suddenly aware that the ship had dropped anchor and was no longer moving. Looking out over the water, he saw that the ship had stopped in a shallow harbor near a very small chain of islands. They probably weren't far from port where Captain Te'Lan had said they'd need to make repairs to the ship, but the islands were neither close enough nor large enough to attempt to make an escape anyway.

"Do ya know what's goin' ta happen tonight?" Sonnal sneered drunkenly, then emptied the bottle and tossed it over the side of the ship.

Carson's head hurt too much to bother attempting to answer.

"I'm goin' ta kill ya," he touted softly with a chuckle. "I'm goin' ta kill ya nice an' slow, and yer goin' ta suffer horribly. I'll make sure o' that."

"Why?" It was all that Carson could manage to whisper through the pain.

Sonnal laughed again as if he'd just heard the most idiotic question he'd ever heard in his life. "Why? 'Cause you killed 'im. You let 'im die. It should'a been you, not him. Just one step ta the left, an' it'd be you dead instead."

He really didn't want to deal with this right now. "Sonnal, I cannae change what happened and I cannae bring yer friend back, but I can help yer crew if ye'd just let me."

Something about the way that Sonnal simply smiled down at him began to frighten him beyond all reason. "You're not goin' ta do anything tonight except die."

As Sonnal bent down to pick up the weight tied to his ankles, Carson's breathing quickened. "Please, ye don't know what yer doin'! I could'nae help yer friend, but I can help the crew! There's no need fer this!"

When it became apparent that Sonnal was deriving far too much pleasure to listen, Carson started getting more desperate. "What will Captain Te'Lan do when he realizes that ye've killed me against his wishes? He'll punish ye for it!"

Sonnal paused for a spell, his face momentarily turning pale and blank, but his expression quickly turned once more. "Be sure an' ta give Nerry me regards when ya see 'im in hell after the scurries bleach yer bones!"

Carson yelled in horror as the man's strong hands lifted him up and toward the gunwalls, the chain binding his wrists and ankles clinking faintly in the quiet calm of the night. "Rodney, help! Good Lord, please stop! Rodney! Somebody do somethin'!"

The sickening sensation of falling suddenly overwhelmed him, but not before he caught a glimpse of shadows moving behind Sonnal. The water below swallowed him, and he began to sink quickly as he fell into the depths. Bubbles of breath leaked from his lungs far too quickly for comfort, but that wasn't the worst part.

He felt the sensation of fish swimming past his face and fingers, and he wondered idly if these could be the "scurries" that the captain had told them about. Then Carson felt the brush of their sharp teeth against his flesh, and what little air that remained in his lungs was nearly expelled all at once. It was just a moment later that a few of them began to bite at him, and soon the water around him began to taste bitter, like blood… his blood.

Sonnal stood watching over the water and uncorked another bottle of alcohol. He turned, a smugly disturbed smile plastered on his face, and raised the bottle to drink from it when a shadow suddenly ran forward and thrust its fist into his face.

Rodney yelled angrily as he threw his punch, but drew back quickly after his attack to cradle his hand.

He knew he was in trouble when Sonnal's face twisted, practically unfazed by the attack except for perhaps some shock at its apparent source. The would-be murderer reached out for Rodney's neck, intent on strangling him, a new, more sinister grin present where the smugness had been.

A shot rang out, and then suddenly Sonnal was no longer strangling him, but collapsing limply against him. Rodney twisted underneath the dead weight, desperately trying to wriggle free before he was smothered.

"Are ye alright, lad?" a voice Rodney recognized as belonging to the aged sailor he'd helped earlier said softly from somewhere behind him, just as the weight of the leaden body was lifted off of him.

He scrambled to his feet and dashed for the side of the ship, gazing out into the water with desperation etched on his face. " Carson! Where did he… Carson…?"

A few bubbles rose to the surface.

Rodney took a deep breath and dove into the water without hesitation.

If not for the near-full moonlight shining brightly overhead, he might not have caught sight of Carson being thrown overboard. As dark as it was outside, it was pitch black under the water, and Rodney could not see anything within its depths. But panic for his friend's well-being drove him to swim deeper, sweeping his arms and legs out in great motions in an attempt to feel something, anything at all.

Seconds ticked past, each one feeling like minutes, and he returned to the surface gasping for air. Time was running out! He dove again, his search becoming even more desperate. Rodney swept out his arms and kicked as hard as he could, but the bubbles seemed to come from everywhere at once. Then, as he was nearly out of breath again, he returned to the surface, but could have sworn that his foot had touched something.

He dove one more time… and found Carson. The bubbles had stopped rising a few seconds ago, and Rodney began to fear the worst as his hands felt for whatever was holding him down to the bottom of the luckily shallow waters. The chains were still wrapped tightly around his ankles, and were secured with a thin, but strong bit of rope that was tightly knotted and would not budge.

Rising to the surface once more, Rodney's voice cracked as he shouted to the crewmen watching incredulously from behind the safety of the gunwalls. "Quick, somebody give me a knife!"

The first attempt the aged sailor made to toss him a knife was a frustrating failure, but Captain Te'Lan himself had at least had the sense to carefully reach over the gunwalls and hand Rodney his sword. Diving down into the water one last time, Rodney prayed that he'd not lost his bearing toward Carson.

Luckily, he didn't.

But Carson was disturbingly motionless when Rodney finally managed to wrench his ankles free of the rope binding the chain to him. Fish were swimming through his hair, and after a few moments had begun to tickle and tease Rodney's bare flesh as he attempted to haul Carson toward the surface. Rubbing his free hand over his exposed skin to discourage the fish, Rodney did his best to ignore them.

"Get us out of here NOW!" he shouted the second they broke the surface of the water together.

Carson was unconscious and in bad shape. A rope was lowered down to the water, and Rodney grunted with exertion and pain as the fish began to bite at him more and more, as though in a feeding frenzy, but managed to get the rope around both of them. They were lifted out of the water agonizingly slowly.

Laying him back carefully against the deck, Rodney saw the blood running in streaks from Carson's face, chest, and arms. " Carson! Carson, c'mon! Wake up! Say something!"

He did not move.

Rodney fumbled through his memory, running his hands through his hair and desperately trying to remember the first-aid procedures for resuscitating a drowning victim. Feeling for a pulse, Rodney couldn't find it. Panic welled up inside him, and water dripped into his eyes as he immediately started chest compressions.

"Lad," the older sailor said softly. "Let 'im go… He's dead."

"No!" Rodney insisted, and then tilted Carson's head back to apply artificial respiration. "I… I can save him…"

With another set of breaths from Rodney, Carson coughed violently and began to vomit seawater onto the deck next to him… then took in a few shaky breaths. Most of the crew took a hesitant step back with surprise, confusion, or fear. Rodney sighed with relief, nearly collapsing into a heap next to his friend in relief, and his chest heaved for air. "I swear, Carson… If you make it through this, I will never call your work voodoo ever again."

Watching his friend attempt to blink away some of his disorientation, Rodney thought he also saw the corners of Carson's mouth rise with amusement as he struggled to regain his breath. But now that his friend's life was no longer in mortal danger, the paranoia once again burdened him, and Rodney peered around nervously, trying to make sure that Sonnal wasn't once again up and ready to murder them.

"Sonnal is dead," Captain Te'Lan assured him, and his voice was tinged with a hint of amusement. "He disobeyed orders, an' we all know the consequences of that now, don't we?"

The crewmen that had been watching took a collective step back and hushed to a dead silence, apparently desiring to not draw the captain's attention. Rodney inwardly breathed a sigh of relief, gazing back at Carson's still and near-unconscious form.

"Ya'll know I'm a fair Cap'n, lads," Te'Lan explained slowly, as if annoyed at having to say it. "But if ya disobey, the consequences are severe. I'm not required to give warnings, an' if I do give ya one, take a lesson from Sonnal and make sure ya listen."

Calling the aged man over, Te'Lan addressed him by name. "Jess – you're my new first mate."

The older man, Jess, smiled proudly. "Aye, Cap'n! I'm honored ta serve. What'll be yer first order ta carry out, sir?"

Te'Lan clapped him on the back with a smile, but his face then turned stony, all business once more. "Let's have anchors aweigh. I want ta get in ta port before mornin', an' since the cargo hold compartment in the bilge is damaged, we're goin' ta need a new place to stow our friends here."

Jess responded just as formally, intent on doing his new position proud, but did show some concern for the two men he'd come to respect over the course of the day before. "The only secure compartment left undamaged is the smugglin' hold, sir, but that space is awfully small fer two full-grown men."

Te'Lan glanced back down at his prisoners. There was some compassion in his eyes, but his words did not reflect it. "I respect all the assistance they rendered, but I can't trust that they'd not try ta escape. They're our hostages, not guests, an' I will have those weapons. We will take Port Legacy, an' I'll not let fools like Sonnal delay the fleet's schedule. Take 'em down ta the hold an' make sure ta bind 'em securely."

The new first mate did not argue. "Aye, Cap'n. I'll see to it."

Without another word, Jess and two other crewmen prodded Rodney and dragged Carson back down below decks towards the crew quarters, but stopped at the small, low overhanging entrance to the cabin. A concealed panel with removable latches was opened, and a very small, cramped, and dark compartment that was barely large enough to contain a single person hunched over, much less two, became visible.

"You can't be serious!" Rodney exclaimed as the crewmen bound his and Carson's wrists. "You can't keep us in there! It's too small. I'll go nuts!"

Jess frowned, conceding a small amount of agreement, but drew his sword reluctantly. "I'm sorry, lads. I like ya both, but ya heard the Cap'n. We can't risk not keepin' ya both secured. I hope ya understand, an' I give ya my word o' honor that I'll come for ya the moment I'm given permission."

"You ungrateful bastards," Rodney shouted, infuriated. "We go out of our way to help you out and this is how we're still treated?"

"Your actions didn't save just our lives, but your own as well," Jess sighed resignedly. "We still have ta keep ya here, I'm afraid. Ya'll just have ta deal with it."

The crewmen shoved them inside and locked the panel in place over the compartment's entrance, ignoring any further attempts Rodney made at pleading for compassion, understanding, or even a chance to relieve himself. He quieted after a few minutes, wracked with panic from the events of that night, as well as the onset of claustrophobia.

"Ye… Ye saved my life," Carson managed to whisper weakly between labored gasps as he struggled to breathe. "Where… did ye learn… ta do that?"

Rodney chuckled smugly. "I may not be a medical doctor, but artificial respiration and CPR aren't that complicated for geniuses to learn."

Carson's smile widened tiredly. "Rodney?"

"What?"

"Thanks."

"Oh," Rodney said, then paused for an uncomfortable moment. "Well, you're welcome."

"Ah, Rodney…?"

"Yes, Carson?"

Carson stammered for a moment, too, almost afraid to ask. "Where's… uh… What happened ta Sonnal? I thought for sure that he'd have never let ye rescue me."

"He's dead. The captain killed him for disobeying orders."

Carson sat back against the wall with exhaustion and with his wrists bound behind him was unable to wipe away the streaks of blood that were still left on his face and dripping into his eyes. Rodney made sure he stayed propped up against the wall, though. There was no way he was going to sleep anyway, not with being stuffed into a room the size of a tiny closet and the painful bite-marks on his chest and arms. They weren't bad and weren't too numerous, though he didn't have nearly as many as Carson did. He fell into a nervous silence, trying not to hinder Carson's recovery with his claustrophobia as the walls began to press in on him.

Carson himself reflected that it was amazing he was alive at all, and without a word of complaint or protest, he fell into a restless sleep plagued with nightmares of dark pools of water, drowning, and unseen terrors that consumed his flesh one tiny bite at a time.