New chapter for you. :D

Chapter Five

Even though James found her slightly annoying he listened to Vanessa's ramblings for the entirety of the coach ride. She told him in great detail about how she and her husband had always wanted to see the world and that was why they had started travelling once they were married. Thomas, on his part, was an amateur novelist and had tagged along so he could find inspiration for his writing. James sat quietly listening to her, only ever speaking when Vanessa stopped her speech long enough to ask him a question directly. When she asked where he was going, however, he merely said Oakfield and refused to elaborate further.

It was pitch black by the time they reached the cliffs of Rookridge, overlooking the sea. James wrapped his arms around himself, pulling his overcoat tighter around his body and shivering. During one of the brief lulls in Vanessa's endless one sided conversation, Frederick leaned out of the window to talk to the coach driver.

"Excuse me sir, but I've heard talk of bandits out on these roads... do you think we'll be safe?"

"Oh, aye." James heard the driver reply. "We'll be fine. The bridge isn't much further up the road and there's a coach house and an inn we can rest at for a bit. Just hold tight and we'll be there soon."

"Bandits?" James asked worriedly when Frederick settled back down in his seat. "I haven't heard anything about bandits."

"You haven't?" Vanessa cut in before Frederick could reply. "Well, where have you been? Everyone's been talking about the increased bandit activity out here. It's said to be very dangerous. Apparently the bandits have cut off the direct route through the hills."

James paled at that. "The... the direct route?" He asked quietly. "So we'll be going along the cliff side road?" Vanessa nodded and James sank down further in his seat. "Oh..."

"Why? Whatever's wrong, Jam- Ah!"

The coach jerked and rocked violently as something crashed into the side of it. James gave a startled yell as it started to topple over towards the rocky cliffs beside the road. Thomas accidentally knocked him as he made a grab for something to hold onto. James, in turn, grabbed Thomas's coat and pulled himself over, away from the wall of the carriage and the rocks.

The resounding crash and the cracking of wood when the coach hit the rocks was somehow drowned out by the triumphant whooping from outside. The four occupants inside froze in terror, clinging to each other and shivering in fear.

"A'right, yeh posh tossers!" A rough, falsetto voice called to them. "Come out o' the coach real slow like. If yeh don't..." There was a pause then a gunshot rang out, explosively loud, making James's ears ring. Something thudded against the outside of the coach, beside the driver's seat and someone made a horrible pained choking sound. Vanessa sobbed in fear and covered her hand with her mouth. James shrank back in his seat, trembling.

Frederick and Thomas stood up slowly, bent over so as not to hit their heads on the roof. Frederick ushered Vanessa further back along the seat, away from the bandits as his brother climbed outside. James saw the couple exchange a meaningful glance before Frederick followed his brother out.

"Tha's right..." The strange sounding bandit said. "Now, 'and over all yer money and we'll leave yeh be. If not..." James's mind supplied the mental image of a bandit gesturing at the coach driver's dead body.

"Fine... fine, just don't kill us..." Thomas said in a quiet, nervous voice. James heard the jingle of gold once, then twice as Frederick removed his own money bag. "Can we go now..?"

The gold chinked merrily as the bandit tossed it up and down in his hand. "Nah." He finally said with malicious cheer. "I never said yeh could go."

Frederick sputtered in shock. "But... but you said you'd leave us be! You said-"

"Aye." The bandit laughed. "I did say that. What I didn't say was whefer you'd be alive when we left yeh."

Thomas only managed to utter a small "Oh lord..." before two more gunshots rang out and Vanessa screamed in anguish.

"You bastards!" She sobbed, standing up and moving over to the open door of the carriage. "You killed them! How could you, you horrible, wicked me-"

James jerked away as a third gunshot rang out and Vanessa cut off, swaying backwards a step before falling to the floor of the coach. James cowered in his corner, hoping desperately that they didn't realise he was there. Maybe they had thought there were only three passengers. Maybe they'd just go away with the gold...

"Oi! Cry baby! Get out here."

"No..." James whimpered, shaking his head and curling up tighter. He couldn't go out there. They'd kill him, just like the killed the others. He didn't want to die. He was only a teenager, and his father needed his help and what would his mother think when she found out she'd been right? Oh god, he couldn't die, he didn't want to die, please-

The carriage creaked and shuddered as someone climbed up and grabbed his arm roughly. "I said get out!" The bandit said again, tugging him none too gently from the coach. James yelped and struggled feebly against the grip but the bandit, unsurprisingly, was stronger and dragged him out into the rain. James moaned in fear, squirming in the hope of escaping. He heard someone reload a pistol and then a cold metal ring was pressed against his temple.

The gunpowder exploded and someone cried out in pain. It took James a few moments to realise that that person wasn't him. The gun against his head was gone and the bandit holding him still released him. James staggered backwards and slumped against the coach as the bandits roared in outrage and swarmed towards someone a little way down the road. Even though he watched, James couldn't identify his rescuer. His state of shock was so overwhelming that he could barely do anything but slump to the ground and cry.

Guns exploded and metal struck metal. A dog barked and snarled. He was even sure he heard the roar of flames once but his mind was too disconnected to make sense of all the noise. Instead he tucked his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and hiding his face. Vanessa was dead. She'd died right in front of him. He was sure he had a little of her blood on his sleeve. He'd have to clean that. He'd been told blood didn't come out well. He didn't know for sure. He'd never seen so much of it before.

Gradually the sounds of battle died away but James was barely aware of that either. He heard the crunch of footsteps on gravel approaching him but he just pressed his face harder against his knees. He didn't want to watch. He didn't want to see the utter lack of remorse on his killer's face as he died.

"Pumpkin?" A vaguely familiar voice asked. It sounded slightly strained from panting. A dog whined in confusion at hearing its name addressed to someone else.

James didn't respond for what felt like hours. Eventually, the man with the vaguely familiar voice reached out and gripped him under his arms, carefully lifting him to his feet. James slumped like a ragdoll against his saviour's chest and buried his face in the damp material. He was glad it was already wet. That meant his tears wouldn't leave a mark.

As he stood there, slumped against the other man and crying, James gradually became aware that the man who was holding him so awkwardly was Sparrow. After all, who else called him Pumpkin? He choked out a soft, wet growl of displeasure at the situation, but was still too upset about the incident to do anything other than loosen his grip on Sparrow slightly. Sparrow, for once in his life, refrained from being an insensitive prat and said nothing about it.

Eventually James sobs faded into little sniffles and he pushed himself away from Sparrow, backing up a few steps. "You bastard..." He said weakly, without much venom, "Taking... taking advantage of me when I'm upset... It's not civil."

Sparrow crooked an eyebrow at him and smirked faintly. "Takin' advantage of yeh?" He repeated, glancing back at the bandits. "If anythin', I reckon I'm the one who was taken advantage of. Firs' I save yeh life, then I let yeh cry all over me, and this is the thanks I get."

James scowled shakily and turned his back on Sparrow. "Well, I think I'm entitled to be a little short with you." He bit out sharply. "I... I was just... I mean..." He gestured franticly in the direction of the coach, his shoulders hunched up defensively. "I've never seen death like this before."

Behind him Sparrow was silent for a while. The only sound between them was Pumpkin panting happily. Finally Sparrow replied casually, "Yeh ain't like me, I guess." The gravel on the road crunched as Sparrow approached, stepping in front of James when he was close enough. James didn't bother to glare at him this time. "What yeh doin' out here, Pumpkin?"

"Don't call me that." James sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"What should I call yeh then?"

James paused and shot a withering glance at Sparrow. Sparrow raised his eyebrows at James expectantly. "Just call me by my name." James finally said, exasperated and really in no mood to deal with the adventurer. He hesitated then added, "I don't appreciate being named after your dog."

Sparrow's mouth curled up into its customary smirk. "Yeh've met Pumpkin then?" James nodded.

"I have, and he's a damn sight nicer than you are." He muttered, finally starting to regain his composure. He reached up and ran his hand through his hair, scowling when he realised he'd lost his hat. "Where..?" He turned to glance at the coach and sure enough there was his little short top hat, lying on the seat near Vanessa's dead body. A large splash of stark red blood stained the white ribbon. He felt his stomach flip unpleasantly at the sight and turned away again. "Never mind. I... I have to go."

He stepped around and past Sparrow and started off up the road again but before he could take more than two steps Sparrow reached out and snagged his sleeve, pulling him back. "Where d'yeh think yer goin'?" He asked, arching one eyebrow incredulously. "Yeh can't go off on yer own. These won't be all the bandits around here."

"I have to go to Oakfield though." James told Sparrow softly, then remembered himself and slapped Sparrow's wrist. "So, unhand me."

Sparrow didn't let go immediately, instead his raised eyebrow floated up even further, but he eventually released James and spread his hands. "A'right. Yer own funeral, I suppose."

James adjusted his sleeve and nodded curtly. "Yes, I suppose it is." He gulped audibly, his nose wrinkling in visible distaste as he struggled to swallow his pride. "Thank... thank you for saving me."

"No problem, Pumpkin." Sparrow replied, saluting James mockingly. James shot him a vicious glare but didn't bother following it up. Sparrow didn't seem keen to listen to him anyway.

He turned on his heel and stomped off up the road, rubbing at his eyes. They were itchy and sore from crying and his pride was severely wounded but he was alive and that was all that mattered to him. He couldn't go back now anyway. The coach was broken and the horses had ran off, and even if they hadn't he didn't know how to drive one. And between going back to Bowerstone with his tail between his legs and continuing on to Oakfield, James knew which option appealed to him the most.

As he crested the small bank though, he suddenly found himself in company. Pumpkin - the dog, that is - appeared beside him, trotting along without a care in the world. James glanced at him, startled then looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, Sparrow was there, a few yards behind him, walking along at a perfectly casual pace.

"Are you following me?" James demanded, coming to a stop fully and turning to glare at Sparrow. The gypsy just smiled and shrugged.

"I guess." He replied. "We are goin' to the same place, after all."

"Well, stop it." James snapped. He was feeling thoroughly rattled by now and Sparrow's sudden desire to stalk him wasn't helping at all. "You're making me uncomfortable."

Behind him Sparrow started to laugh so James picked up the pace, determined to lose him. He stormed along the road, around a large boulder and a ruined wall. In front of him was a small cliff, but James barely paid it any heed. However, as he started to round a second boulder, Sparrow's hand clamped down on his shoulder and dragged him back. He gave a startled little yelp, almost falling over.

"What-" He started to say, but Sparrow clamped his other hand over his mouth. The older boy wasn't looking at him; he was staring intently at something on the cliffs. James's brow furrowed slightly in confusion. This wasn't the Sparrow he was used to. That Sparrow was a joker who seemed to live only to torment people. This one though... this Sparrow was a killer.

"There." Sparrow murmured, close to James's ear. "On the cliffs. Can yeh see them?"

James turned to look. At first he couldn't see anything. His eyesight had never been especially good, but glasses weren't in fashion this season and he refused to wear them just because they were practical. Yet as he looked he started to make out shapes moving around on top of the cliff.

Bandits. Dozens of them. James whimpered fearfully against Sparrow's palm.

I actually didn't think the coach scene would last so long... Oh well.

R&R if you feel like it.