Soupkitchen asked me to write a story where one of the crewmembers starts to hit on Bree. I chose Ratlin, because he doesn't have much about him. Also, I couldn't bring myself to use Clanker (cuz Fly Like a Blueberry Pie would kill me, and I LURVE Clanker), Hadras (cuz he's too stupid to hit on a girl), and most definitely couldn't use Jimmylegs (self explanatory) or Maccus (c'mon, he's Jones' right hand man AND he's too…high an' mighty) so Ratlin it is! Ratlin is the one with all the ship's ropes attached to him. Ratline Ratlin…duh.

Bree's breath whooshed from her body as Quittance threw a punch to her stomach, knocking her flat. She gagged, blood clogging her throat. She spat out the tangy stuff, clawing at the deck. She could faintly hear Bootstrap, Clanker and Hadras shouting out to her, "C'mon, Bree! Ye can take 'im! Get up an' show 'im what ye've got!"

Bree, urged on by her friends, got up slowly, turning to face Quittance again. The surly pirate readied his knotted fist for another blow. This time, when it came, Bree caught his fist in both hands, twisting his arm back, hyper-extending it to the maximum.

Quittance howled in pain. Bree continued pushing, driving Quittance back a few paces. Then Bree swiveled her body around, kicking at the back of the crewmember's knees, causing him to fall heavily.

Quittance found the girl kneeling on his back, her fingers clutching at his neck as she sought to throttle the life from him, spitting blood at him.

Ssssnap!

Bree gave out a sharp bark as Jimmylegs' bullwhip snaked forward, whipping around her neck and jerking her back. Any mortal's neck would have been snapped, but her undead body's bones stayed firm. Bree fell hard on her back, clawing at her throat.

Jimmylegs hauled Bree up, hissing onto the back of her neck, "Well, pretty one, ye've found yerself a playmate?"

Bree snarled up at Jimmylegs with her remaining breath, "He started it!"

Quittance managed to get up, glaring at Bree, his pride hurt with the fact that a girl had beaten him, "Ye little rat…I'll get ye, see if I don't!"

Jimmylegs cracked his whip close to Quittance's face, snarling, "Shut it, Master Quittance." He looked about at the rest of the crew, "An' back to work, all of ye!"

Bree wrenched her arm free of Jimmylegs' claw, moving away with the rest of the crew. Bootstrap fell into step beside her, "Are ye hurt?"

Bree probed at a loose tooth, "Just a bit bruised…I'll live." She spat out some more blood. Fightin' ain't half as bad as workin'…

Bree sat on a coil of rope, her head slumped onto her chest. She was exhausted. Everyone was busy watching a distant ship battle between a naval frigate and another ship. Bree normally enjoyed watching a good ship battle, but she was too tired.

Bootstrap sat near Bree, keeping an eye on her. If the captain started to look towards the girl, Bootstrap would wake her.

Bootstrap stifled a yawn, looking about. Suddenly, his eye caught the figure of Ratlin, the broad-shouldered crewmember covered in ship's rigging and timber. He was standing towards the edge of the crowd, his eyes on Bree. Bootstrap immediately felt uncomfortable about it. That look on Ratlin's ugly face told him one thing; Ratlin was interested in the girl. Bree was pretty for the type of life she was leading. She had lean, hard muscles and browned skin, but she was still pretty. And she might have no real curves, but when a vulgar pirate such as Ratlin had sailed for almost a century without so much as a glimpse of a female, any girl would seem desirable.

Bootstrap shifted, silently moving closer to Bree. If Ratlin tried anything, he would answer to Bootstrap. Best warn the girl.

Bootstrap tapped Bree awake, "Mate?"

Bree awoke, yawning and stretching out her arms, "Ah…'ello, Bootstrap. What's up?"

Bootstrap gestured towards Ratlin, who had gone back to watching the fight now that Bree was awake, "Wanted ye to know…that fellow's been watchin' ye. Ye might want to keep an eye out for trouble from 'im."

Bree narrowed her eyes, "I will…thanks, mate." She fingered her dagger hilt. Then she looked up, "Ship battle?"

"Aye…don't see a clear winner yet," Bootstrap answered, patting Bree's leg as a signal for her to get up. The two stood, going over to the railing.

Bree stood between Koleniko and Maccus, watching the battle with interest. She suddenly felt a slight tug on the end of her jerkin. Angling her head back, she could see Ratlin, not looking at her, but right behind her…too close for comfort. She dismissed it.

It happened again. Only this time, she could feel claws slowly trace up her side. She wriggled slightly, and the claws withdrew.

Bootstrap was watching Ratlin closely. He tapped Clanker's shoulders. The burly crewmember turned, touching the tip of his wide brimmed hat, "Aye, mate?"

Bootstrap whispered out the side of his mouth, "Ye see Ratlin o'er there? 'e's been watching Bree a bit too closely."

Clanker's single eye set on Ratlin. He nodded, "Aye…now that ye mention it, he wanted to trade hammocks wi' me. I thought it was 'cause Hadras would always end up draped over 'im, but I guess it was because he wanted to be in the hammock next to Bree. 'E's been oglin' her…don't worry…" Here he cracked his knuckles, flexing his powerful muscles. He was a big fellow, and could hold his own with the sturdy Ratlin, "If 'e touches 'er, I'll flay 'im." Clanker was one of Bree's friends. He wouldn't want to see anything happen to her.

Hadras, who had just recently joined the two, spoke rather loudly, "Make sure nothin' happens to who?"

Clanker winced, covering Hadras' mouth, "Hush! It's Ratlin. Bootstrap says 'e's oglin' Bree. I noticed it too."

Hadras, after Clanker's clumsy paw was removed from his mouth, said in a loud whisper, "Oh…does oglin' hurt?"

Bootstrap sighed as Clanker shook his head, "No, mate. It means, 'e's gawkin' at 'er a lot. Like 'e fancies 'er."

Hadras spoke a bit too loudly again, "Oh, Ratlin's mean! Bree wouldn't like him! An' I bet he ain't a very good kisser eith-whoaaaaaaugh!! What are ye doin'?"

Clanker had Hadras around the waist, carrying him down into the hold. He dropped him down the stairs, calling down, "Ye goin' to be quiet?"

Hadras straightened his head which had gone askew in the rough way he had been handled, "I be quiet…hrmph…I offer me good honest opinion an' they throw me down 'ere like I said somethin' stupid…see if I ever tell 'em my great idea 'bout hirin' pink bunnies and Saxons fer the crew."

The day passed as normal. Bree got into another fight, was dragged into the captain's cabin and sentenced to ten strokes of the cat. A light sentence.

But Bree really knew she was in trouble when the time came.

Jimmylegs frog marched the girl to the gratings, directing Crash and Ratlin to hold her arms. Ripping the jerkin from her back, Jimmylegs prepared the cat o' nine tails.

Ratlin had hold of Bree's wrist. He was staring at her face, a sick, hungry look in his pale blue eyes. Bree glanced at him, not taking any notice. Then…she felt his claw begin to slip down her arm. Her skin crawled.

It reached her elbow…so cold and slimy…

It reached her shoulder…he was rubbing at her skin, and it made her want to vomit.

It crawled down to her back…walking down to her lower torso…

Bree was about to rip away when she heard Jimmylegs bark out, "Ratlin! Git yer paws offa her back unless ye want a manicure!"

The claw snaked back up to her wrists.

Then the ten strokes commenced.

"Bree, darlin'…ye've got to stop doin' this sort o' thing afore ye have no skin left on yer back," Bootstrap said, laying strips of seawater soaked cloth on Bree's bloody back. Bree chuckled painfully, wincing, "Aye, but would that stop me from bein' flogged? No…Jones just finds ways to cause me misery."

Bootstrap shrugged, "Still…ye need to stop provokin' 'im."

Bree wiped her bloodied nose, sighing, "Aye…I'll stop doin' it…maybe he can get over seein' my face every day. Seems that's enough to make 'im hate me."

Bootstrap smiled at the girl, then heard a noise behind him. He turned, expecting to see Clanker, who had been bringing some more bandages. But it was Ratlin. Bootstrap was instantly on his guard. The crewmember was sidling past him, grinning and saying, "Hello, Turner…doctorin' up Miss Bree, are ye?"

"Aye…" Bootstrap tucked up the corners of Bree's hammock to hide the sides of her torso. Bree had clenched her arms across her chest when she heard Ratlin's voice. She shuddered slightly, then went still, pretending to be asleep as she listened to the two speaking.

"Need any…help?"

"No, I'm about done. Cap'n wouldn't be pleased to find ye helpin' me anyway."

"Ah, let 'im be un'appy. Gimme that rag."

Bree heard a slight struggle. Ratlin was obviously trying to wrestle the rag from Bootstrap. Bree buried her face in her hammock, praying that nothing happened.

Just at the moment that Bootstrap had obviously recovered the rag, Ratlin's claw came down on Bree's back…hard. Bree's eyes popped open as his claws sank into her fresh scars, tearing open the slits. She bit the canvas of her hammock, stifling a cry as her back arched upwards. Obviously, this was Ratlin's desired affect. He slipped his hand under her as she arched upwards. Bree came down too late, and Ratlin's hand was groping at her lower torso.

"Hey, quit that!"

Bree felt Ratlin's claw ripped out from under her, scoring deep marks in her skin. Still…that was better than him touching her. She sent out a mental gasp of gratitude towards Bootstrap.

"Bootstrap, there weren't any clean canvases, an' I had to borrow some o' Hadras'…" Bree recognized Clanker's voice. The crewmember had walked in and trailed off as he saw Ratlin.

Stepping forward, Clanker spoke in a harsher voice, "What's all this?" He noticed the blood on Ratlin's claws.

Ratlin turned, eyes narrowed, "Tryin' to help the poor lass…bandages, eh?"

Clanker glared at Ratlin, remembering what Bootstrap had said, "Since when 'ave ye wanted to help Bree?"

"She's a shipmate. Anythin' wrong with wantin' to help 'er?" Ratlin answered, his eyes straying to Bree, who was writhing under his stare. Bootstrap took the canvas covering and draped it over the girl's scarred back. Clanker shouldered Ratlin out of the way, shooting him a glare.

Ratlin was about to protest, when Maccus' voice could be heard, "Ratlin! Get yer useless carcass up 'ere!"

Ratlin growled, obeying reluctantly.

Once he was gone, Clanker bent next to the hammock, his hand on Bree's shoulder, "Bree…ye all right, missy?"

Bree nodded painfully, speaking in a strained voice, "Th…thanks…"

Clanker touched Bree's cheek in a comforting way, "He won't touch ye, miss…I promise."

Bootstrap nodded, "I'll have the hide from 'is back if he tries to lay a hand on ye again."

Bree looked around at her friends, "Thank ye both so much, mates…I dunno what I'd do without ye."

"Probably get bored real fast," came a voice. They all turned to see Koleniko enter the hold. He grinned at Bree, "Don't worry, little missy. Ratlin was a womanizer in 'is day. After a while it should pass, mark me words."

Bree smiled appreciatively at him, "Thanks, mate. I hope ye're right." She flexed her claws, "I think I could take 'im if he tried anythin'."

It was customary for the crew to have a short time in the evening to sing shanties, gamble, drink or tell stories. They were all assembled in the hold, some in their hammocks, lazily listening to stories, some in the corner playing a game of dice, and some downing bottles of some form of fiery alcohol. Bree herself was fiddling with one of her mussed braids. She plucked out sea creatures, still not used to the feelings of little animals crawling all over her.

It wasn't usual for Jones to attend the evening gathering, but this night was different. He liked to keep an eye on the crew. Unexpected arrivals kept them alert and behaved…at least for a cursed crew.

The captain leaned against the stairs in the corner, observing his crew. Twins was playing a game of dice with Crash, Old Haddy and Oglivey. Jimmylegs was plaiting some new leather strips for his whip while carrying on a conversation with Penrod. The other crewmembers were sleeping, except the group in the corner. Clanker and Hadras were sitting up against the wall, sharing a bottle and discussing the existence of Saxons, a subject Hadras seemed to obsess over. Koleniko was talking with Bootstrap about an unimportant matter.

Jones' calculating eyes caught sight of the hunched form of Bree sitting between Koleniko and Clanker, not speaking or seeming to pay attention. She was picking barnacles from her hair. Jones narrowed his eyes. She seemed much quieter than usual…usually the crew requested a song when they weren't busy teasing her.

Then Jones noted another figure standing not too far away from the group. He saw the lean figure of Ratlin hidden in the corner, only his eyes visible. Jones followed the crewmember's gaze. His hackles prickled.

Ratlin was staring straight at Bree. A sick glow was coming from the crewmember's watery eyes. Jones recognized it. Back in the days before his downfall, he had seen his crew look at a port tavern wench that way. Lustful and wicked, full of perverted desire.

Jones felt a type of rage well up in him. It offended him that anyone should look at Bree that way! Bree was no wench. Far from it. She would kill any man that tried to make advances. But then…Jones thought he himself would kill any man who attempted to lay hands on Bree. Why?

Because Bree was a spirit he wanted to break…but he wanted to break her in a way that didn't involve something so horrible. And he wanted to break it himself.

And I would never lay claims to 'er that way…

Things came to a head the next day.

Bree was never sure how she had ended up in the brig. It might have been because of that incident with Jimmylegs' whip…but Jones was always looking for ways to break her.

Bree hated being locked in the brig. There was nothing to do! Bree wasn't normally one who could handle sitting in one spot for too long with nothing to do.

But this day proved different; there would be too much to do.

Bree looked up as someone entered. She couldn't tell who it was in the wet darkness…someone with broad shoulders and long growths on his back.

Someone who had pale, burning eyes.

"Well well…our little tiger caged up agin?"

Bree's eyes widened in alarm.

"Ratlin!"

The crewmember smiled unpleasantly, "Ye sound outta breath, darlin'…do I have that effect on ye?" He winked at her.

Bree shivered, backing up to the very corner of the brig, "Go away…"

Ratlin shook his head, "Tsk tsk, Bree, m'girl. I just came here to cheer ye up."

Bree kept her eyes on him. What was he doing? He was jiggling at the lock…he was using his claw…or was he…

Bree had always thought the most terrifying sound she could ever hear was the roar of the Kraken…but she was wrong. The most terrifying sound was the sound of the lock snapping open as Ratlin picked at it.

The door swung open with an ominous creak. Ratlin stood, one arm on the bars. He grinned wickedly at Bree, "Ah…that's better, darlin'."

Bree tried to scrunch herself in as far as possible into the corner, but failed. Ratlin walked right in, putting his hands against the wall either side of Bree's shoulders, trapping her.

Bree opened her mouth, hissing, "I warn ye…don't ye touch me, or I'll-"

"Hush, girl…I won't tell a soul. Cap'n'll never know." He wrapped his cold, hard claws around her neck, caressing her throat in a sickening way.

Realization finally struck Bree. He was really going to do this to her! Cold horror filled her, and she could feel Ratlin's claws working at the collar of her shirt. She began struggling, only to have Ratlin seize her wrists in his cold hands.

Bree opened her mouth to scream, but was muffled as Ratlin kissed her. With a sob of horror, Bree wrenched herself away, eyes huge. She fumbled for her dagger, drawing it and crying out, "Don't come any closer! Get away, scum!"

Ratlin, fired by his lust, managed to grab her wrist and hooked his claws around the front of Bree's shirt, pulling her closer to him, kissing her savagely again. He sought to rip the jerkin from her, trying to undo her belt. Bree punched and clawed at him for all she was worth, screaming shrilly. She began calling out to anyone, "Bootstrap! Clanker! Hadras!"

Ratlin had ripped the jerkin from her, and now sought to strip her of her shirt, spitting out blood as he hissed at the girl, "Hold still an' quit yer screamin'!"

"Jones!"

Ratlin shoved Bree down on the ground, kneeling on her, his knee on her left thigh as he groped at her, his hands hard and rough. Bree bit down on his hand, fear making her strong. Ratlin, too fired by his passion, slammed her down, still working to strip her.

Bree had been fighting hard, but Ratlin had been giving her repeated blows to the head, and she felt her vision leaving her and her strength ebbing.

No! Oh please, no! I've lost everything…my freedom, my old ship, my life…please don't let me lose this too!

It was at the exact moment that Ratlin had succeeded in wrestling the belt from Bree's waist that he was thrust forward savagely, his chest smacking into Bree's cheek, though she didn't feel it. Ratlin was hauled back sharply and whirled around. The crewmember's face turned from passionate outrage to cold horror as he stared into the dangerously cloudy blue eyes of Davy Jones himself.

Ratlin didn't speak. Jones didn't give him a chance to. Gripping the crewmember by the neck with his claw, he brought his face close to Ratlin's, speaking in a voice like a low rumble of thunder, "What…were ye doin' to her?"

Of course he already knew the answer, but he was nonetheless outraged.

Ratlin began babbling out excuses, tears of pain coursing down his cheeks, "Please, sir! I was only havin' a bit o' fun! I wasn't really gonna hurt the whelp-"

Jones slammed Ratlin into the bars of the brig, roaring in his face and striking him repeatedly about the head, "Ye bleedin' well caused 'er pain she'll never be able to ferget!"

Ratlin shut his eyes tightly, feeling the claw tightening as the blows rained down on him. He choked out with his remaining breath, "Mercy…I'm sorry…I'll never…never do it again…on me oath…" He fainted dead away.

Jones thrust the limp body from him, watching it crumple on the floor. He stood there, his chest heaving with wrath. How could Ratlin have done that to Bree? The poor girl…

Jones felt something press against his leg. He looked down. Bree had her arms wrapped around Jones' good leg, clinging to it, her cheek pressed against his thigh. She was sobbing, tears and blood dampening her face.

Jones, feeling somewhat strange, reached down and touched Bree's forehead with his claw. The girl looked up at him, her face beginning to bruise from the violent attempt. She had a look of gratitude in her eyes. She spoke in a failing voice, thick with tears, "Th…thank you!"

The captain slowly disentangled the girl from his leg, stepping away. Her eyes never left him. She stayed kneeling, that same look in her eyes. Jones wasn't sure what to make of it. But he stepped forward, raising Bree to her feet. He patted her cheek stiffly, "Next time ye let any man touch ye…I'll have ye flogged." He turned without another word, slung Ratlin's limp form over his shoulder and left the brig.

Bree stayed, tears still flowing from her eyes. A mixture of relief and confusion.

Why did he save me?