At first, everything was quiet.

The Sleigh drifted through the air high above the Atlantic, surrounded by the fog of steam and clouds. When in flight, it's fins unfurled from the sides like webbed oars, swimming forward in the sky. It added a peaceful rocking to the ship, like the sea far below them.

Waves of wind rushed past the three tall masts, upon which propellers were mounted. They whirred quietly in the night air, the wooden blades creaking lowly as they kept the craft hovering in the sky. The glow from the moon reflected off of the sails, pouring light down onto the deck. Each beam created sparks of blue kaleidoscope jewels across the wood; it was the atmosphere of serenity – peace.

The echoing of North's boots thumping along the deck carried throughout the ship. The man went about his rounds, accompanied by the larger, brutish members of his crew. Last Jack saw, he was watching the bow with Phil, keeping an eye out for any threats in the night.

Through the sturdy structure of the ship, steam poured within the pipes and clouded the crevices behind the walls. Down below lie the sleeping children. They dangled in their hammocks, some simply on the floor to save themselves the risk of falling. Tooth walked among them, smiling softly at their peaceful faces, and the small glimmer of freshly brushed teeth. Jack could hear her cooing gently, even over the sounds of the snoring and the small whimpers of dreams.

Behind the closed doors of Aster and his quarters, he sat at the workbench, tinkering away with the staff laid across the wooden surface. The metal glinted slightly in the moonlight blinking through the porthole. A cloud of steam emitting from the pipes periodically blotted out the beam, but Jack barely took any notice, too immersed in his work to care.

The candlelight flickered tentatively on the table next to him, one of two lanterns lighting up the room. The other belonged to Aster, who sat with knees curled up this stomach on his bed, sketchbook propped open on his thighs. The scratching of his charcoal on the parchment mixed with the small clinks of metal and the creaking of the ship.

Everything felt at peace.

Sighing, Jack leaned back from his work, pushing his goggles up to his forehead. He stretched, a satisfied groan leaving his lips.

Aster glanced up at him, and then barked, "Oi! Don't move yet."

Jack looked back at the Australian. "Why?" he asked.

The man gave an irritated humph, his green eyes flicking away quickly. He wore only his pale cotton trousers, frayed ropes tied around his calves to keep them from slipping. His bare chest, brushed with greying brown hair, contrasted his tan skin, which glinted bronze in the dim light of the lantern. At Jack's piercing gaze, he drew his legs up closer to his body.

"Never mind," he grumbled, fiddling with the pencil in his hand.

Curiosity entered Jack's mind, and he stood, pulling off his goggles with the motion.

"What are you drawing, Aster?" he asked, walking towards the bed.

"Nothing!" the Australian answered, all too quickly.

"Aw, come on, Cottontail, that's no fun," Jack teased. He made to get on the bed.

"Mate!" Aster cried, "Don't get on the sheets with that rubbish all over you! These are clean!"

Jack laughed, before he lamented and backed away.

"Fine," he said, "I'll get changed."

"You'd better get bathed is more like it."

"We're on a ship in the sky, Aster. You're making perfect sense."

Aster only grumbled lowly in response, and a chuckle bubbled up Jack's throat. He threw the curtain between the beds closed, the thick fabric falling with a thump against the wooden floor. His fingers found their way to the apron tie behind his back, and he let the straps fall before pulling the heavy leather over his head. The oil-stained cover fell to the floor.

Nonchalantly, Jack shrugged out of his cotton shirt, letting it fall down next to the discarded apron. He nudged it out of the way with his foot and knelt down to open the chest underneath his bed. It opened, creaking loudly in the room.

The sound made Jack realize how quiet everything was. He glanced over his shoulder at the curtain. Despite its thickness, he still saw shadows through it from the lantern on Aster's nightstand. The man's silhouette remained on the bed. He'd relaxed his legs, spreading them back out across the sheets, and he had his sketchbook propped open on his knee.

Jack knew that Aster wasn't able to see him, but the one-sided view made him uncomfortable. He snapped his gaze back forward to take out another white shirt. He slipped if over his head. Almost shyly, he began to shimmy his trousers over his hips. As quickly as possible, he threw on a softer pair of cotton pants, and threw his dirtied clothes into the trunk. He'd wash them tomorrow; help Tooth out with all of the kids' laundry as well.

A small smile made its way to his face, and he thought of Baby Tooth. The little devil had refused to stop tormenting Aster during the past two days they'd been on the ship, and the Australian was at his wit's end. Jack enjoyed the company of the young girl, as it made Aster loosen up afterword. Out of the earshot of the child, Aster spoke fondly of the kid too, and the look of contentment that passed his face in those moments sent sparks of joy around him. It made Jack almost giddy from wanting to tease him about growing soft.

Jack closed the trunk, and it slammed from the weight of the lid. It scratched loudly on the floor as he pushed it under the bed, the screeching noise filling the room.

"Would you keep it down, Jackie?" Aster said from behind the curtain, "You'll wake the little ankle biters."

"That doesn't seem like such a bad thing," Jack replied. "You'd have a blast with Baby Tooth."

"Don't know what you're talking about, mate," the man grunted, but Jack didn't miss the softer edge to his words.

Jack pushed the curtain back against the wall. "You know you can't resist her," he smirked.

"I can't resist yelling at her if that's what you mean. The bloody sheila's almost as annoying as you are."

Jack laughed, and leapt onto the bed. Aster's writing hand jumped off of the page of his sketchbook, and he cursed loudly.

"Watch it, you gumby! You almost made me mess up!"

Jack scoffed, "Mess up on what?" He peered over Aster's shoulder, not noticing how the Australian shied his head away when Jack's chin brushed against his skin. "What're you drawing, anyway?"

"It's none of your business!"

"Aw, come on, please?"

Jack batted his eyelids pitifully up at the man, meeting the bright green eyes with his own. A pout worked its way onto his face, teasing even more than necessary. He ended up with his chest pressed flat against Aster's side, but he didn't notice.

Aster held his gaze as long as possible, before blinking away. His breath caught, but he passed it off as a sigh.

"If I let you look will you stop bothering me?" he asked finally.

Jack poked his bottom lip out and answered, "Maybe."

"Cheeky little bastard…" Aster muttered. He thrust the book out to Jack. "Fine."

"Yes!" Jack cried, his frown breaking into a gaping smile. His white teeth shone in the dim lantern's flickering glow, and he accepted the sketchbook gratefully. "Thank you!"

"Don't sweat it," Aster said, propping his elbow up on his knee to observe the boy as he flipped through the pages.

The book was open to a detailed sketch. The charcoal marks stained the page like his oil; only less splattered and more beautifully shaped across the rough parchment. The thin layer of black coloring left white stars spotted between the gaps of rock, miniscule pebbles on the surface of the page.

The picture was of Jack. He was seated at the worktable, his back bared to his own eyes as he bent over his project. The thin lines of the goggles strapped around his head were blatant against his white, parchment-colored hair. Before him, his staff was spread across the bench. Scattered gears and puddles of oil littered the table around it, dripping down to his apron on his lap. In the black lines Jack's clothing looked more worked by the wrench in his hand than his creation did. The rugged charcoal made his shirt look threadbare, his pants looked rough against the wooden stool. In Aster's art, no longer was he the American-raised English gentlemen. Instead, he was a creator, and he was created from as many mismatched parts as the inventions he welded together.

After an eternity, Jack tore his gaze from the page, his blue eyes wide with awe as he stared up at Aster.

"This is amazing, Aster," Jack breathed.

The man seemed shocked. "Y-you're serious?" he stammered, "Y-you really like it?"

Jack blinked. He realized the picture was of him, with entirely close detail, and he looked away from Aster. A rush of heat colored his face, tinting his cheeks a light pink.

"I-I mean, the details are fantastic! You got the gears all in there, and the staff…" Jack trailed off as he tried to think of another compliment that didn't involve the subject of the picture being of him. "The um… the um… the lines are…"

He could feel Aster's enthusiasm dropping as he sat beside him. The man's eyes fell, and he looked away, letting his elbow off of his knee. His hand scooped down to his lap as the man turned his gaze to the wall, suddenly finding interest in the grain of the wood.

"No, what I meant to say…" Jack finally just burst, "You drew me really well!"

Aster perked up immediately, his face whipping around, green eyes sparkling with surprise. Tentatively, a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, exposing his always perfectly straight front teeth. It was almost adorable, and Jack flushed to look back down at the sketch.

"Y-you really mean that, Jack?" Aster asked. His arm crossed over to grab the edge of the sketchbook.

When he pulled it over, Jack shifted as well to look at it, leaning into Aster's side. Aster's chest expanded with deep breaths, as he looked down at his work with a hesitant pride.

"Yes," Jack said, "The, um… my apron is really rugged, like my trousers, right, and the uh… the uh… My shirt, I really like those um… those… wrinkles…"

Even with Jack's lame compliments, Aster chuckled, half out of disbelief. "Thank you, mate, it really means a lot."

A smile broke the awkward state of Jack's mouth, and he said, "I really like it, Aster. Why don't you major in this for Manny?"

And then the ease in Aster's body was gone. Suddenly his shoulders were tense, and his hair seemed to bristle, his unshaven jaw locking beneath his skin.

"Nah, mate," he replied, his voice flat. "I'm not good enough for that."

"What do you mean you aren't good enough?" Jack exclaimed. His voice was loud with a sort of shock. "This drawing is amazing!"

"It's just luck, Jackie, I can't explain it! It's usually not like this…"

"So? Take a look at my inventions, Aster," he protested, gesturing wildly to the table. "None of my inventions work! Well, except for the flash paper, but that wasn't my invention. But I keep trying until it does! It's like what that Edison fellow said, what was it, 'I destroyed the light bulb one thousand times–'"

"'I have not failed'," Aster interrupted, "'I've just found ten thousand ways–'"

"'–that it won't work!'" Jack finished. "See? That's why we take classes about it Aster, to help us get better. You're art is great! For instance," he broke off, taking the sketchbook back into his hands, "Just what else have you drawn in here?"

As he began to turn the page, Aster suddenly shouted, "No, Jack, wait!"

There was another picture of Jack. It was a portrait, drawn from memory. Jack's hair was blown away from his forehead, sticking up in corners in little cowlicks. His eyes shown even in the charcoal shadows, glistening with a sort of tiredness in his features. Despite the sleepy gaze, his mouth was upturned into a bright smile, his teeth somehow whiter than the parchment. Highlights lit up his skin like the morning sun, displayed so readily in the black and white sketch, framing his nose, and the way his cheeks carried a pale blush when he woke up in the morning, with exhausted bags underneath his eyes from a long night of tinkering up in the workshop.

And even with all the flaws so obviously drawn out on the paper, he looked happy.

With a rushed horror, Aster snatched the sketchbook from Jack's hands, clutching it to his chest. His fingernails bit into the parchment, his knuckles white as chalk. His tanned face seemed to pale his eyes wide and scared. He cowered against the wall, putting as much space as he could between himself and Jack on the small bed.

His lungs heaved beneath his ribs as he hyperventilated, and Jack only stared.

"I'm – I'm sorry, I–"

Jack reached out a hand, and he flinched.

"Aster, it was really goo–"

"No!" Aster cried. "No, just – just get off, would you? Get off!"

He thrust out his feet, practically shoving Jack from the bed.

"Aster!" Jack exclaimed as he found an unsteady footing on the floor. "Aster it was really good! I – I liked it!"

"No! You never saw it!" Aster shouted.

Suddenly he leapt forward, and Jack jumped back. The younger man's knees caught on his bed, and he toppled back. Aster towered over him, fists balled in an embarrassed rage.

"A-Aster…" Jack said hesitantly.

The man's shoulders shook. Jack froze as he saw the tears. They traced crystal lines down his cheeks, staining his tan skin with dark trails of humiliation. His teeth were grit in his locked jaw, and he glared down at Jack, not with anger, but with shame.

"Jack," Aster began. His words caught in his throat, and he choked, before he continued, "Jack, I–"

An explosion rocked the ship.

Aster was thrown down on top of Jack, landing roughly on the bed. Dazed, the man looked up with half-lidded eyes at the younger inventor. The tears still blinked at the edges of his vision, but most had been knocked away by the impact.

Jack stared wide-eyed at the Australian, before he realized what was happening. A cry of a child sounded from the room over, and Jack's head snapped back to gape at the door.

He pushed Aster off of himself, running from the bed to the door. He yanked the handle, and it opened with a crash of the wood when it slammed against the wall.

The cries had turned into wails of frightened children scattered across the bunks. Jack rushed into the crowd of them, trying to see if any were injured.

Baby Tooth popped up next to his arm, and said, "Jack! What's going on?"

"I don't know," I responded, placing a hand out towards her, "Just, stay here, I'm going to go find your mother."

"I'm right here, Jack," Tooth called over.

A young boy was cradled in her arms, William the Absolute Youngest. He was unconscious, with a bruise forming on his head. Blood trickled from his hair, staining his temple. His chest rose like the fluttering of a bird.

"He's alive, he just fell out of the bunk," Tooth said, calmly despite the chaos around her.

"Can I help?" Jack asked.

Another explosion sounded from outside the ship, missing this time. Jack reached out to one of the pillars for support, and Toothiana tensed, a hand reaching out to the side.

"No! Go find North! Help him!" she shouted over the roar of the explosion.

Jack only nodded, before darting to the door. He dodged past the children on the floor, wanting to stop to help them. But they seemed to be all right, already standing and steadying themselves. Baby Tooth darted around the room, kneeling beside anyone injured.

Just as he reached the door, he heard Aster call, "Jack, mate, wait up! Where are you going?"

"Up to the deck!" Jack said.

Aster reached him, and grabbed his arm. "Jack, you don't know what's up there–"

"I know that North might be in trouble. I have to help him."

"Alright, then I'm coming to," Aster declared, determined.

Jack scoffed, "I never said you couldn't."

They dashed down the hallway together, their feet slapping on the metal grating. Jack reached the stairs first, beginning the climb up as fast as his legs would bend to accommodate him. His bare toes caught dangerously in the mesh of the steps, but he made it up safely.

They emerged onto the deck, Aster coming up right behind Jack. He stood close to him, protectively shielding him from behind. The sight made Jack tense, and he balled his fists at his side.

North stood in the center of the deck, both sabers drawn as he stared down the airship coming up off the port side. It was massive, three masts scraping the clouds directly above them. A large iron figurehead adorned the front of the warship, in the shape of a snarling dragon, with a cannon fixed in its gaping maw. From its topmost mast hung the black flag of traitors and thieves, the Jolly Roger.

Jack pushed through the large Russian crewmen bustling about the deck, following North's orders that he spat out in his mother tongue.

"Phil!" he shouted, surprisingly in English, "Pull in oars! Спешность!"

"North!" Jack called, "North how can I help?"

The Russian spun around to face Jack. His expression was grim.

"I cannot fight. Not with the children aboard," he said simply. "I must call for cease fire."

"Are you a loon, mate?" Aster asked. "These are pirates! You can't just negotiate with them."

At that North smirked. "Ah, but I am pirate too, да? Is nothing I can't handle." He raised his hands to his mouth, cupping them to bellow, "CEASE FIRE! HOLD CANNONS! I REPEAT: CEASE FIRE!"

His voice echoed over the loud flames of the cannons, and Phil raised the white flag up the mast.

With a loud creak, the maw of the pirate dragon closed, and the cannon disappeared.

Aster and Jack stood their ground next to North, and Phil came down to join them in the center of the deck. Aster raised his fists, ready to fight, while Jack kept his own hands relaxed at his side.

Phil grumbled, and thrust a sword to him.

Jack looked at it incredulously, shifting his gaze between the weapon and Phil. "No thanks. I can handle myself."

Phil shrugged, and shouldered the sword to his own side.

The pirate ship drifted up next to The Sleigh with the loud creaking of its propellers. The balloons in its sides did little to sustain its weight, most of the ship carried by the loud engine emitting steam in great clouds of pollution. It blotted out the stars, throwing the entire night sky into darkness.

And on the center of the deck, a tall, slender man stepped forward.

"Ah!" the man exclaimed, "Nicholas St. North." He enunciated each part of the name, staring North directly into the eyes as he spoke.

He came up to the very edge of the ship, climbing onto the plank balcony. He wore a large, feathered hat on his head, with the frills of his seafaring uniform peaking out of his sleeves. His eyes were a deep blue, his black hair scruffy across his face.

"What a pleasure it is to see you after all this time, old man. Still carting around the little brats?"

North's jaw set in his mouth. "Joseph Kelly," he spat, hatred seething from his lips. "What do you want?"

"Oh, Nick, haven't I told you just to call me 'Bunko'? I mean, by God, even her Majesty the great Victoria does it. Can't you show me the same respect?"

"What is it that you want, Joseph Kelly?" North repeated, his patience wearing thin.

The man appeared hurt, his narrow face frowning and stretching his waxy skin to its limits as he glowered. But he quickly smiled again, and leaned out across the gap between the ships.

"Why, the same I want from every ship in the air, my dear friend. I mean, if I'd known it was your ship, I'd have probably relented, but nonetheless, now that we're here… I must demand you hand over all of your treasure."

North smirked. "This is a passenger ship today, my friend. There is no treasure on board!"

Joseph Kelly's frowned deepened. "Well you must have something. I mean, even one of the brats would suffice. I'm on an errand you see, transporting a few passengers of my own. Fifty-two pounds per man! I'd assume a child would sell for a good price, if it's reasonable."

"People are not to be sold, Joseph," North said dangerously. "Leave us be."

Joseph Kelly's devilish smirk reappeared, and he leapt back from the balcony, landing on the deck. His eyes met Jack's. A shudder ran through the young man's body. The pirate's gaze was unnerving, insane, like a demon fighting within a human's body. It was dark as the deepest ocean, and just a hidden.

Joseph Kelly then stated, in a most cordial manner, "Well, if they can't be mine, then they certainly can't be yours." He raised a hand to the air, signaling to one of his crewmen, "Fire the cannons!"

"Wait!" North cried. "Wait! I do have things!"

Kelly froze, and lowered his hand slowly. "What 'things' might they be, Nicholas?"

"Rum," came the simple answer.

A stunned silence befell Kelly. And then he laughed, a loud guffaw released into the air.

"Rum!" he cried, tears in his eyes. "Very well, go fetch it then! I doubt you'd need rum on a ship full of brats anyway!"

North nodded, and gestured to Phil. The large crewman left, disappearing below deck.

Kelly's gaze focused in on Jack again. His dark eyes shifted to Aster's shirtless form, and then back to Jack.

"Oh," he mused, "I truly hope I wasn't interrupting anything, was I?"

North huffed, "Only you, my friend, assume things such as that."

Jack shuddered, and stepped closer to Aster. The Australian tensed, glaring daggers across the way.

He opened his mouth to call over, "The hell do you think you are?"

Joseph Kelly blinked. "Why, I'm Bunko, The King of the Crimps," he said, as if it were the most obvious fact in the world. "Who else would I be? And if anything else, who would I lack?"

Aster blanched. "Excuse me?"

"Well, somebody has to be a Bunko, and somebody has to be a King. Why might I not be both?"

"I think you're a little too bunko to be anything else, mate," Aster muttered under his breath.

Jack couldn't help his small laugh. As soon as the chortle left him, however, North shot him a glare. Joseph Kelly straightened, stiff as a board.

"What's so funny?" he asked, his voice rising an octave. In hysteria, he shouted, "Are you mocking me? Making fun of me? Do you know who I am? I am Bunko, King of the Crimps! I've rounded fifty men in less than three hours! I have twenty-two below deck right now, and if you keep laughing, I'll throw you in with the lot of them! Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!"

His voice echoed over the air. Everyone was frozen, stunned into silence by the childish fit. Aster gripped Jack's arm, pulling him closer. Jack didn't fight, huddling within Aster's grasp.

"That mouth," North spoke, "will end you one day, Joseph."

"I swear I'll murder the lot of you," the pirate wheezed.

"Watch your tongue."

Just then, Phil emerged from below deck, hefting two large crates in his arm. Both were stacked with amber glasses to the brim, glistening in the blotted starlight. They all lacked labels.

"Take your rum," North ordered. He nodded to Phil, who brought them to the edge of the ship.

Kelly nodded, and two men dropped down from the masts on ropes. Within seconds, they'd collected the crates and stolen them over to Kelly's ship.

"Will you leave us, Joseph Kelly?" North asked plainly, holding out his hands in surrender.

The air was tense, and Joseph Kelly studied them carefully. Finally, he smirked.

"My name is Bunko, you old fool. I swear I'll murder the lot of you."

I loud clang of metal sounded from below. A large cannon emerged from the hull of his ship, glinting black as death in the starlight.

"No!" North cried, "There are children!"

"And I, my friend," Joseph Kelly said, "am a pirate!"

The cannon went off with a boom, the ball crashing into the part side of The Sleigh. The sound rocked in Jack's ears, deafening him for a moment, as the world began to spin around him.

Joseph Kelly sped off into the night, his ship disappearing in the smoke of his terror.

A/N: Ah, I'm so sorry! For the lateness, I mean. And the ending was rushed.

But anyways, so… Joseph Kelly was a real person. Check out his Wikipedia article, and you'll see that he also fits the timeline, which is great! :D

I'm really happy that I'm back in the routine of writing now, thanks to NaNoWriMo (which I'm not going to win this year), so the next chapter will be up soon! :3 I hope you guy enjoyed this chapter. And don't worry, as soon as NaNo ends, I'll be back to updating Learning to Live and that RoTBTD fic as well.

Love you guys!

~Renoku

P.S. It's hard to believe that it's been a whole year since RoTG came out! I just wanted to thank everyone in this fandom for giving me a chance to write for you all. It's really been a great thing for me to be accepted this easily into the fandom, especially with a half-furry ship such as Jackrabbit. XD Thank you, again! Love you all!