(Disclaimer: Pintel and Ragetti aren't mine.)

Just the Way it Should Be

Pintel didn't know where he'd found the energy to climb back onto the Urchin, but once the rowboats reached their mother ship, he'd been one of the first crewmen to haul himself up the rope ladder that Yager and Wood had lowered for them. A lot of his hurry was brought on by an eagerness to get back on board and get some decent rest, but most of it was from Rub impatiently prodding him up the ladder from behind. In any other situation, Pintel would've gladly argued or just stomped on the other man's hand, but he was far too tired to start another fight tonight. Besides, the voyage was far from over, and he still wanted to have Rub for a comrade in case any more trouble arose. So for the time being, Robert Pintel bit back his ego and allowed the taller fellow to herd him on like a degraded cow.

Once the entire crew was on board, the captain saw fit to make him feel even more degraded.

Pellinore's face was scalding red with anger. "You two!" he snapped with a breathless voice. "You were there when the fight started. What happened?"

Pintel and Rub exchanged cautious glances, then the latter spoke up in a calm enough tone. "I ain't sure, Cap'n."

The livid Englishman stepped closer threateningly. "Are you being perfectly honest with me Mr. Morgan?" he asked with icy suspicion. "Because if you are not, and you're covering for yourself or anyone else, then one of you is rightfully responsible for all of this! Your foolishness and disregard for orders have put our mission and our entire crew in danger, and has cost me my first mate!"

He paused to fume, and turned his smoldering eyes to Pintel. "Will you tell me what happened, Mr. Pintel?"

Pintel hesitated at first, noticing the grim warning stare that Rub sent him, then finally shook his head.

"Ain't got nuffin' t'tell, Cap'n," he replied listlessly. "I didn't see it neither."

The lie clearly didn't sit with Pellinore, and the captain's face grew impossibly dark as he scowled in disgust. Had it not been for his thin and straight form, he could've been mistaken for the unlucky Winchcomb, and Pintel felt the hairs on the back of his neck nervously stand up at the sight of his commander. Then all of a sudden, just as quickly as he showed his frustration, Pellinore turned his back and stormed away towards his cabin.

Rub watched him go and laughed.

"Aye, at least 'e took it well," he said dryly.

Pintel just stared.

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Ragetti knew something was wrong the minute Pintel came stomping down the deck stairs and dragged himself over to his hammock without so much as checking on the boy. Something was eating at his older companion, and the fact that he was ignoring his charge left Ragetti with a rather uncomfortable feeling. Being ignored like this made him think of his mother.

It was the first time he'd ever really stopped to wonder about her since leaving Tortuga, and now that he did, the lad found himself in a debate. He still couldn't quite believe that she'd just abandoned him, at least not for the reasons that'd been told to him. The memories of his early childhood were sketchy, but somehow, from all of those blurry sounds and images, he was almost certain that he had been given a real name.

There was a word she used to say, one besides "kid" or "boy" or any of the other things she called him; a word she would say only to him. But it'd been so long since Ragetti had heard the possible name—his name—that it was all but lost now.

And then there were other memories. Memories of a woman slouched on the floor, lowering her head and clutching her dark hair in trembling hands. She was crying, and through the sobs, Ragetti was sure he could hear her sadly cursing his surname. Cursing the man that she believed was his father.

She'd always seemed troubled, he realized then. His mother had always seemed worried or upset, and every time she'd pushed him away or put him outside, she had always seemed to do so out of a distant heartbreak, and not out of hate. He had no real memory of the selfish and unfeeling woman that his stocky friend spoke of, but she had definitely deserted him, and if Pintel said she was a stupid blighter, then it had to be true. Ragetti frowned to himself and shifted a little underneath the burlap sack, which he was now using for a blanket.

And then something else suddenly occurred to him.

It'd been nearly an hour since Pintel had returned, and although he was lying with his back to the powder barrels, Ragetti could tell from his restless breathing that the man was still awake. The kid paused as he gathered his words, then finally sat up and carefully called out to him.

"'Ey Pintel? …Pintel?"

In the hammock, Pintel snapped his groggy eyes open at the sound of his name, and when he realized it was Ragetti's voice, he reluctantly lifted his head to glance at the boy over his shoulder.

"Wot?" he asked gruffly.

Ragetti edged back slightly. "You 'member what you was sayin' b'fore, 'bout me mum bein' your sister?"

Pintel had to wait for the memory to register in his foggy head. "…Aye. Wot about it?"

The child's voice grew even more curious. "Wouldn't that make me sumfin' to you? Like she is?"

There was another confused pause, then Pintel turned over a little more to give Ragetti an unpleasant glare. "Nah. You're just a pain in the ass right now, not a sworn enemy." There was no hint of humor in his voice whatsoever.

The boy dropped his head in dreary thought as the man rolled away again. He wasn't a stupid blighter yet.

"No, no," he tried again. "I means are we…well, she's your sister, and you're 'er brother…and I'm 'er son. Don't that mean we're sumfin'? The two of us?"

That was when the pressing question finally dawned on Pintel.

Relatives. The little sot wanted to know if he and the pirate were relatives.

He lifted his head to sneer back at Ragetti again. "Aye," he growled, "I guess it would." This said, he let his head thump into the hammock once more.

For a moment, this seemed to satisfy Ragetti, but then another question came to him. "'Ey Pintel?"

Pintel rolled his yellowing eyes impatiently, and turned fully over to face the boy. He arched his eyebrows curtly. "Wot?"

"What are we?"

"We're uncle and nephew. Now shut up." Then he rolled away for the third time.

Ragetti looked up at the balding man in silence, awed by this revelation. He hadn't been able to make the connection before for some reason, and now that it'd been made for him, he saw Pintel in a completely different light. He wasn't just a companion—he was family! What was more, he was the only family that the lad had left now. A peaceful feeling came over Ragetti then, and the excitement of that evening's "cannon incident" finally came back to him in a happy wave. He started to lie back against the ship wall again, and as he did so, he glanced at Pintel one more time. Then his eyes grew wide.

There was something crawling on the hammock; a small flicker of movement that barely stood out in the darkness. Ragetti sat up nervously this time.

"Pintel? …Pintel…"

That was about all the older man could take. Pintel growled audibly and spun around much faster than before, propping himself up with a tightly clenched fist as he scowled at the boy.

"Lemme explain 'at a little better to yeh!" he hissed irately. "I'm the uncle, which means I'm in charge, and you're the nephew, which means you do wot I tells yeh to do! Now when I, the uncle, tells you, the nephew, to shut up, you shuts up! Now you close your ugly li'l chicken-lip mouth, or I'm gonna nail it shut!"

Ragetti nodded timidly and huddled in a quiet little heap. Satisfied by this, Pintel turned his back for the final time and plopped heavily down into his hammock, trying to fall asleep. That would teach that little thickhead not to bother him.

Then the thing that Ragetti'd tried to warn him about crawled up onto the tired man's back and slowly continued on up to his shoulder. A second later, it reached the back of his neck, and when Pintel felt something small poking at his balding head, his temper completely went up in flames.

"Alright!" he barked, reaching back fiercely. "That's it, you little—AAAAAAAHH!!"

There was a loud thump after that as Pintel tumbled out of his hammock, and Ragetti quickly pulled the burlap sack over his dirty blonde head to hide in the midst of the commotion. His uncle was tripping all over the floor in a silly panic.

"Get it off me! Get it off me!" Then Pintel made another unmasculine shriek and flung off the tiny cause for his fuss, much to the amusement of a nearby crewman who'd been woken by the uproar.

Apparently, not all of the crabs on Pilón had stayed behind on the beach.

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