Chapter Fifteen: The Callaghan Family

"I don't care how poor a man is; if he has family, he's rich." ~Dan Wilcox and Thad Mumford, "Identity Crisis," M*A*S*H

"UNCLE COCO!"

How long had it been since I had last seen this man? How long had it been since I last used his phoenix powers in my own childish ways, selfishly forcing him to be the evil doer in ruining my tea parties and having my brother come rescue me? How long had it been since I actually felt truly happy to see my family?

I jumped from the chair and into the waiting arms of my only uncle from my parents. I had a few aunts from my mother, but Marco was my only uncle that I ever remember meeting that was alive.

It was kind of weird in our family. There were the Marines of the family, and then there were the Pirates. The Marines outnumbered the Pirate side greatly, but hell; Pirates don't always play nice so it didn't really matter.

"Still got that annoying nickname for me, eh, Pixie?"

I glared at the man, my childish side coming out. "I'm not a Pixie, Coco. I'm a pretty fairy princess that can blast your ass across the Red Line if I wanted to."

Marco chuckled, ruffling the already rat-nest of my hair. He rested his arms around my waist, respectively, making sure to be careful of my irritated back and tattoo. The man behind my uncle, who I would later learn to be Thatch (Commander of the Fourth Division), cleared his throat. The pair of us finished our family reunion suddenly, looking at the man with the pompadour hairstyle.

"Not to interrupt your mushy reunion, but I do believe we have a pirate crew in our brig waiting to know where their captain is," his grin never faltered. "And I believe you owe an apology to the old man that you kneed quite hard."

I flinched at the thought of what I was going to get from Hank after that dirty move. "Right," I nodded curtly, knowing it was better to get the yelling done now than later. "You didn't hurt any of them too badly, did you?" I asked nervously. I had heard the Whitebeard Pirates weren't ruthless unless need-be. Who knew how they were going to have to react around the Spades. All of the men were very unpredictable.

"Nah. We just roughed 'em up a bit. Nothing too serious. We knew we could kick their asses them the second they pulled up beside the Moby Dick," the Fourth Commander said smugly, his grin almost growing in size.

"Someone's a bit overconfident," I muttered, allowing Marco to lead me out of the room – handing me back my coat in the process – and down a flight of stairs or two to the brig where the Spades were supposedly held.

When the two Commanders opened the door, they found the whole crew pitching in to help Hank and Benji try and beat the iron-enforced door. It was just the men of the crew. None seemed to notice we had entered the brig.

"Where are the women?" I asked, seeing that they weren't in any of the poorly welded cells.

"We don't fight little ladies, so we set Pops' nurses on 'em, eh. They're probably sipping tea and talking about girl stuff in the offices," Marco stated with a roll of his lazy eyes. A ghost of a smirk pulled at my lips before the Spades finally noticed we had made it into the room.

"Faye! Hurry and run! Those are dangerous men!" Hank exclaimed, forcing more of his strength to get the door opened. I rolled my eyes at the man, grabbing a set of keys from a peg beside the door and walking over to the cell. All of the crew stared at me; baffled looks took over all of their faces.

I grinned at them, working each key before the right one finally opened the cell. Benji pulled me into his arms immediately. I gasped as another shot of pain ran up my spine from my infected tattoo. Damn that hurt…

"Holy Sea King, we thought you were died the second we watched them take you below deck with that sack over your head. I'm so glad you're okay."

Aw, Benji was so sweet, but way too young for my liking. He had just hit puberty, after all.

…or was he just a really late bloomer?

"I'm perfectly fine. It's you guys I'm worried about. How're ya holding up?" I forced myself out of his arms and glanced over at the men. I could only hope the girls were alright. I hadn't gotten on any of the girls' good sides easy enough to know any by name or talk like them I would Mia, but I still worried about them. What can I say? I'm a worry-wart at times.

"We're fine, Faye. Just got a little roughed up," Hank told the me, patting her good shoulder.

Thatch snorted to himself at the old man's words. I rolled my eyes at him, but turned my attention back to Hank. "I didn't hurt you too bad did I? You kneeled over really quick…" I chewed on my lip. Hank simply shrugged it off.

"My family jewels are alright. I'm just getting a bit too old for that kind of warfare," Hank joked, ruffling my hair even more. I could feel a blush at Hank mentioning his – ahem – 'family jewels'. I was going to have to get used to that if I planned staying on a pirate ship.

Macro cleared his throat behind us, stepping into the opening of the cell. "Com'on Pix, Pops will want to meet you, eh. Not every day one of his sons is reunited with his niece."

Hank gave me a look, but I simply replied with four little words. "It's a long story."

I stepped out of the cell and let Marco guide me out of the brig and up the stairs to the deck. There, the crew was lazy about, some were already dozing off and others were cleaning/sharpening their just-used weapons. A shot coming from a pistol made me jump a few inches out of my skin, but Marco was were to chuckle and tell me it was just one of the men practicing on a few birds.

At the head of the ship, was a very large chair being currently used by a very large man. I was intimidated almost immediately, slowing my steps a little to hold out the walk as much as I could. Marco dragged me the rest of the way, not liking my slow speed.

I stood nervously before the Pirate Emperor, much like a child would if she had just been caught doing something she knew better than to do.

That's when I noticed the girls. My, my, those nurses were strong. Well . . . it's understandable seeing who they look after. All of the Spades women had been tied up like hogs, their curses and yells muffled by the pieces of fabric stuffed in their mouths. I simply stared at them, scared for my life that that could have been me.

"Pops, this is my niece, La' Fayette Beatrice Callaghan, eh."

I scowled my uncle for giving my full name. I hated it more than I hated Marines. And that was saying something. Could you blame me for going by 'Faye', though?

"Faye," I hissed at Marco, but caught myself when I, again, noticed the large man. "I go by Faye, sir." There goes my dignity.

Whitebeard just simply looked at me, no expression on his face before he let out a full load of chuckles. His baritone voice surprised me slightly, but I hid it. "Welcome to the family!"

I thought I would never hear those words. A grin spread across my face and I wrapped my arms around Marco's neck. It wasn't until he returned the hug that I remembered the infected tattoo. Hissing with pain, I pulled away from my old man of an uncle and discarded my jacket. The fabric had rubbed the sore spot the wrong way.

One of the nurses glanced over at me just in time to see the yellowing and red back with the infected black spot of my tattoo. Before I knew it, I was being dragged away by chattering nurses as they all talked over how to treat my infection. Marco followed not far behind, his shoulders slumped as he dragged his feet lazily, both hands in his pockets.

I gave him a look of fear, not knowing what to expect.

"Who did your tat, Pix?"

I looked at him for a moment before answering with a simple name, "Syra."

The nurses stopped their chattering, and forcing me to a stop too, before we were moving again. I flashed a concern look to my uncle. His expression was that of rage. I've never seen him look so angry. What the hell?

"You mean Syra from Hastion City from a beat up shop known as the S.C.S. of Ink?" One of the nurses asked, her words sounding like a mother scolding her child.

"The very same, why?" I was confused, no, more than confused. The looks that were given my way made my confusion only grow.

"That dirty little wench…" One of the nurses cursed more, before I was pulled behind Whitebeard's large chair and forced to sit in a wooden chair like I had back at Syra and Al's tattoo shop. One of the nurses back in front of me, taking my arms and tying my wrists together.

I screamed.

"What the hell? What do you think you're doing?" I fought the women, but they were stronger than they looked. "Marco! Stop them!"

I was given no answer, simply held down until I felt the sharp sting of a blade cut across the lower part of my shoulder blade. I screamed bloody murder.

It hurt like hell. Like someone was dragging a flame of fire across my back; like I was being stabbed over and over again; like I was slowly being tortured into insanity.

And then it all stopped. I let out a shaky breath, noticing the hot tears that rolled down my face from the pain. I could hear my blouse being ripped, the sleeves cut so one of the women could pull it from my body.

My breasts were pushed against the rough wood of the chair as I leaned forward, away from the touch of the nurse. I could feel something cool wipe my back, more than likely the blood that was pouring from the cut in my skin. I felt the same cool texture on my forehead.

Slowly opening my eyes, I was met with the same color of green from a girl my age. 'Sorry,' she mouthed, dabbing the cloth on my forehead as I flinched at the contact with something cottony soft. One of the women pushed me back slightly, just enough for a roll of bandaging to wrap around my body.

"We had to get the puss out of the infection. Syra is a very dirty conwoman. I'm sorry you had to do through that, but if we didn't you would have died."

Suddenly, the thought of dying from one of Mia's ideas seemed so funny to me. I laughed half-heartedly, falling back onto the back of the chair as I rested. My hair was a mess, splatters of blood hung on the tips as I continued to laugh.

"She's going into shock!"

My wrists were unbound, but they limply feel back to my sides. The girl with the green eyes continued to dab at my forehead, trying to keep me from getting a fever.

I felt nauseas.

"Come on, we need to get her on a bed."

I was hoisted up onto my feet, staggering when my weight made my knees buckle. "Jesse, go clear out the men! We don't need 'em starin'."

I was forced to walk, my body being held up by two women much, much taller than me. Was it the heels they wore?

My head felt light, my back felt like it was on fire, and my legs were jelly. I practically tumbled down the stairs to the nurses' quarters. Carefully, they laid me on my stomach. I heard a chair be pulled up, the wood scrapping against the floorboards.

Marco softly stroked my hair. He chuckled, his droopy eyes closing momentarily. "We Callaghans were always conned so easily."

A soft smirk played at my lips.

"Your father with your mother and the Marines… your brother by your father… Whitebeard getting me to join his crew twenty years ago… and now you and Syra. Amazing, eh?"

"That's the Callaghan family for ya," I replied, my body slowly falling into the much needed rest after all that I had just been through.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Family, got to love them.

Now where the hell is Ace?

A/N:

This is my "Happy Birthday, Baby!", "Merry Christmas!", and "Happy New Year!" to all for you.

On one note, I'd like to apologize to my baby (oMaM) for missing your first birthday! (I'm a horrible mother, I know.)

Second, Merry Christmas! I got some cool stuff. But not a lot since my Sweet Sixteen is coming up in 28 days (I CAN'T WAIT). And I'm going to Hawaii for the 70th Pearl Harbor Anniversary with the brigade. Gotta love being in colorguard.

Third, HAPPY NEW YEAR! You know what that means? ; D

I'll have Ace's present up later today on A Fairy Tale's. Be looking out for it.

Enjoy, and review please!