By the time Alfred came to, he's back in his jail cell and his head thump in inconceivable pain as if it was being split into two. He curled up in the corner of the chamber, his back stinging and the wound on his arm, poorly dressed, itchy. Infection? He's burning with fever too but why would it matter anyway? No one will ever give a fuck since all the people here in this ship are nothing but monsters.

"Alfred." The door crack open, that voice, he sounds so familiar… Who was it again? His hazy mind won't allow him to remember, heck, even the cell is spinning! "Are ye a'right, boy? It's me." Ah.. The chef, what is he doing here? "Capt'n said that I should give ye some food— kid, ye don't look so good, are ye okay?"

No, he's not. His body aches and his head is about to split but before he could open his mouth to say something, he passed out once again. Body reacts to what's happening, trembling as his immunity fight off the infection but it was too much for his antibody to stop. The chef panicked and rushes out from the chamber.

Arthur refused to emerge from his own chambers for the rest of the night. He stayed in there and the crew snickered to themselves, commenting on how he always seemed to sulk after whipping someone. Who wouldn't? It was an ugly sight. They were left with Alfred and the crew had thrown him into that small cell again, with a few bandages wrapped round him by some of the kinder members. Tomorrow would be fine… All would be forgotten and the Captain could get on with his life and taking care of his faithful crew. Alfred would be fed and in the morning he'd be given the option to work again. Not many would choose to stay in that dark cell.

But right as Arthur was about to turn in for the night the chef entered his chambers. Uninvited… It made Arthur frown but this man was able to get away with it. He was kind, underneath a harsh exterior.

"We need a doctor 'nd quick, this is serious, Capt'n." It's normal for a person to worry, right? Alfred is just a young lad who is blinded to promises, justice as they call it… And because of voicing out his conviction and belief, and even fought for his right, he's now hanging between life and death. "I know ye are doin' what's best for everyon' but he's young, Capt'n. Don't let his life slip away like this."

His body wasn't used to treatment like this and the place was filthy and damp. He'd die quickly if nothing was done but unfortunately for the aviator this crew held no doctor. Not anymore.

"Please, Capt'n. I beg ye.. Just this once. Just this lad.. Save him!"

"He's a prisoner-"

"I know but he's a boy. Daft 'nd knows nothin'. Please, for me!"

It's new to see the Chef feel strongly about something. Like everybody else, he's a tough Pirate and had his share of drawing blood. But right now he's acting like a father worried about his son, desperate and pleading.

"I don't know what you see in him but very well. I owe you, now we'll be equal. Bring him here, we're miles from port and won't get there till tomorrow."

Laid on the floor by his stomach, the huge rats in this ship cautiously approach the unconscious Aviator during the absence of the chef. They took this chance to feast on the poor man's back, exposed and wounded from the lashes earlier. They nibble on his torn skin, feasting on his blood until the chef arrives and hastily shooed the rats away. He really is a soft man inside despite his huge built and intimidating look, suppose his heart is the same size as him.

"Ye still alive, boy? I'd be movin' ye. Capt'n knows yer ill, ye will be safe now I assure ye." The huge man effortlessly lift Alfred off the floor, carried him in his arms since hanging the boy over his shoulder is not an option, it will only make the blood flow out from his injured arm and he can't risk that. Alfred is already pale from blood lost. Losing more will lead to death. Curious eyes followed the giant man but didn't dare ask him until the chef disappears inside the Captain's quarters. "He's still burnin'." He said worriedly and with complete care, he place Alfred to bed. The Aviator didn't cease his shivering, he even curled up to find more warmth and his skin is hotter than a coal.

"We need warm water… a needle if you can find one along with some thread and some rags for bandages."

"I'll go get it." The chef scampers off to retrieve what the Captain needs, a basin of water, clean towel and a water to drink. It didn't take long for the huge man to gather the things and place it on the side table, just beside the Captain. "It's no use, Capt'n." He said, noting that the Captain was trying to wake the lad up. "He's completely unconscious 'coz of the fever, we should lower it at least before we attempt in wakin' him up." Chef knows what he's doing, he's been serving Arthur for years now and had witness how doctor tend the sick— despite the fact that he's the cook here, he's still useful for many things. They will arrive in the port by tomorrow, many things could happen tonight, they just hope that Alfred will hold on until they reach an island and find a doctor to take care of his injury. Chef is never good in stitching but he knew that their Captain has great skill for that, "I will go back to the kitchen then, Capt'n. I have to cook for the crew but I will be back to check on ye two. I will bring yer food here as well in case ye get hungry."

"Thank you for your help. Don't worry… The git's asleep so I'll take care of him. He may be a good person but he's a good person with a burning hate for pirates. I can't quite forgive him for having such a bad opinion of us…"

Chef grabs the towel and drenches it with water, he squeeze out the excess before placing it over Alfred's forehead. He frowns, the towel quickly caught the warmth and now it's needed to be put back in the basin again to cool.

"He's a good person, Capt'n… Give him a chance." The chef left then shut the door behind him carefully, and then he head back to the kitchen with his shoulders hanging low. He hated Alfred when he first came here but after their little debate earlier and being persuade in letting him cook tonight- Alfred caught his attention but sadly their plan of switching job for today was cancelled because of his condition. This was obviously troubling the Chef quite a bit so Arthur would try his hardest to make sure Alfred recovered. For the sake of his crew… And his own selfish needs.

Now alone, Arthur took the cloth, dipping and wringing it in the cold water before laying it against his head again. The fever was bad… But maybe it was good to stitch his arm while he was still unconscious.

With another rag he dipped it into the water before dabbing around the wound left by the dagger. It was deep. A clean cut and as he removed the dried blood surrounding it he could make it out better.

"Not even a day and you've gone through hell, kid." he needed something better than water. Infection was inevitable if he didn't find something else… Alcohol! Thankfully he had some close by, what kind of Captain didn't have rum in his room? But now the drink would be used for cleaning, he poured it onto the same rag. The Aviator cry out when the cloth drenched with alcohol was pressed up against his open wound and hell it stings and cause his injury to have that burning sensation. Once lifted, the American open his eyes half way, vision all too fuzzy for him to recognize the other. The doctor could do a better job the following day but right now they needed something temporary. Alfred fall into a light sleep once more, the fever just keep on pinning his body down to weakness.

Arthur lit a candle, holding the needle over the flame in order to sterilise it ready for use. The Captain had learnt to sew at an early age… Repairing his own clothes and the clothes of other crewmen. Flesh was a little different to material but small hands made the work easier. And the stab wound wasn't too wide across so the job was done quickly. Accompanied by fresh blood which was wiped away before being dressed with a new bandage. The towel over his forehead was changed, the fever still burning strong. Alfred is still unconscious, mouth parted slightly to give his lungs more air, he's having a hard time breathing now and clearly he's putting his best in fighting off his fever.

"..Matthieu…" Alfred said, dreaming, groaning in pain. "..I'm sorry.."

"I don't know who Matthieu is… But he'd want you to fight this, I'm sure. So fight and help the worried Chef. The huge man is fond of you, strangely. To me you're nothing but headache."

It took a couple of hours before the fever start to subside, Alfred's breathing became even and his expression peaceful- not even a single sign of pain. He's feeling better now than before but still needs a doctor to make sure that he's completely well and allowed to do his daily labor. The chef knock on the door then enter the room quietly, carrying a tray of food like he promised and it was a warm soup for both of them.

"He needs to eat, Capt'n. To hasten his recovery, allow me to feed him." He drag a chair to sit right next to the bed then carefully set the American to stay inclined. He's still unconscious but will wake up soon. "He reminds me of my son…" Said the chef quietly, he took care of Alfred's bandages first to cover the injury on his back. "He's the same age like him but more bigger, just like his Pa." He chuckle to himself. "But the boy died.. He got into a fight and before he knows it- a dagger struct right into his heart. The killer escape, if I ever find that bastard I will struggle the life out of him." Sighs. "Forgive me, Capt'n. I just… miss him so."

The Captain rarely got a chance to talk to his crew like this. One to one with no distractions, their lives were still a mystery to him, as if they were all strangers still. They'd all lost people and it turns out the chef lost his son. A sad story… Arthur couldn't even begin to imagine the pain that came from losing a child.

"There's no crime in missing someone… No need to apologise." Nothing could fill that gap but he seemed to care a lot about Alfred, taking care of him and Arthur found himself helping too. The one who gave the punishment in the first place. He'd done what he could and now the Pirate could only watch. Staying quiet as he sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at the hand he'd once held that whip in.

After dressing Alfred's injury, he let Alfred to lean his back against the headboard before patting the boy's cheek. Waking him up to feed him. Soon enough the American open his eyes, head still hurting but better than earlier.

"Eat boy, you need the strength you can get." He receive no answer so he continue. "You're in the Capt'n's quarters, you should thank him later but now, eat. We must keep your fever low until we reach the port."

"..Port?"

"Yes, yes, port. Ye in the ship, don't you remember? Hehe, fever probably got ye.. Here, have a sip." He couldn't think straight but his stomach did demand for food. So he took a sip but cringe at the taste. "It's not the food boy, it's your tastebuds. You won't taste any until your fever go down completely."

"..I doubt it's my tastebuds.. I can taste it.. and It taste awful."

"He still makes unnecessary comments even in this state… Brat." Arthur pipe up after hearing what Alfred said, there was no hatred this time, only slight amusement as the corner of his lips turned up into a fleeting smile. The chef burst out in laughter, delighted to know that the boy is recovering. But he must eat nonetheless. Alfred, thankfully, emptied the bowl.

"I be takin' the dishes now and hit the sack for tomorrow." He needs to wake up tomorrow to cook for the crew, he's always busy and not even a single day off.

"Sleep well, my friend… We'll be able to restock the kitchens when we stop too. Some fresh produce will keep the crew happy for awhile." It would also improve the taste since most of the things they had left were stale and old. With the chef gone, it was Arthur's turn to take care of Alfred again, but just he was about to place the damp cloth to his head the boy spoke up.

"..Thanks." Alfred said, hesitantly at that. "..For saving me but I don't understand why.." The wound on his shoulder was neatly stitched, chef told him that it was the Captain's crafty work.

"Your welcome… A pirate's heart beats as strongly as your own I'll have you know. We feel guilt and regret. Many other things… Just consider yourself lucky that I was in a good mood."

"I know that, you and I are humans and nothing can change that. Even the top criminal possess a heart but that doesn't mean I'll let you wander around and kill people." Alfred heave out a sigh and brush a hand across his sweaty hair. "We're both different…" Said quietly. "You don't understand my point 'bout livin' an honest life and savin' people, the same as how confused I am when it comes to your 'killing' and your point 'bout 'surviving'. Look, I don't hate you but I don't like what you're doing- killing is a crime no matter how you look at it and I admit, us military kills too but for a good reason, unlike yours…. Taking from others is just.. Wrong."

"Why is it you can kill with 'good reason' and no one else can? An honest life… It's not as honest as you think." If they didn't take from others Alfred wouldn't have any meals, there'd be no bandages to wrap his wounds either. They needed supplies and stealing was the only way to get them, and the black market of course. No stores would sell their merchandise to pirates, the moment one was spotted they'd be reported and have to flee or the military would capture and hang them. Or torture… Arthur wasn't completely sure what they did to pirates, rumours were never reliable.

"I should go back to the cell so you can rest.. Thanks again." Wobbling for a minute, Alfred keep his balance by pressing a hand against the wooden wall and slowly he make his way to the door.

"You're in no state to be walking around! You look like you're about to topple over, I swear half your blood is staining the floors of my ship. Bloody reckless man, the clean wounds would just become dirty again in that place and the rats would be full of curiosity. They'd chew right through the bandages if given the chance."

But he couldn't have Alfred stay here, that would be a foolish decision and many would question it. Maybe even think the Captain had gone soft! There'd be a mutiny. "Come, we can set you up a hammock in the stores chamber. Less dirt and grime, and rats for that matter." All his hard work will go to waste if he went back to that cell, and Arthur didn't want that to happen. "I'd try to put you in the crew's quarters but… They haven't warmed up to you quite yet. But I'm not surprised… You're insufferable."

The Captain doesn't want him to go back to the cell? But that's where they always keep him, locked up and hidden away from their eyes. It's their way to make sure that their slave won't escape while they're sleeping but now Arthur is asking him to stay in a safer place? Even have a hammock prepared for him? He would accept the offer because honestly he's worn down to his bone that any minute he will collapse and go right to sleep. Sadly accepting the offer almost means that he have to bother this grouchy Captain, letting him help to set the hammock up so he could rest.

"We can do that tomorrow…" Said the Aviator, finding a reason to escape the Captain's prying eyes. "I'm sure that you're exhausted so why not get some rest… I'll… I'll sleep on the deck until tomorrow. My aircraft is probably lonely, ya know? The cockpit is huge enough for me to sleep in, I'll stay there." And as soon the sun shone up, Alfred will set the hammock up himself or perhaps remain on the aircraft to make sure that none of the crews remove a small part of her to sell. "Good night.. and thanks again.."

"I'm always exhausted, it's to be expected as a Captain. Taking care of the crew comes before your own needs… But if you're sure. I'll leave you be." The two still didn't understand each other. But at least now they were able to have a conversation without biting at each other's throats. Or maybe they were both just too tired to start up a fight. It had been a draining day… And working on Alfred's wounds had taken a lot out of him. He nodded instead of responding the the 'good night' and then quietly watch Alfred leave the cabin. He'd have to change the sheets quickly since Alfred had gotten blood on the ones he currently had set out. Such a messy lad, although it wasn't his fault.

Once the room was clean again Arthur could strip down into his night clothes, flopping on the bed as though he was carry bricks. Tired… So tired. But he'd still be the first one up to make sure the ship was on course, they had to make port and get Alfred a check up. The rest of the crew could go drinking and have their fun before collecting supplies, it had been a long time since they'd walked on dry ground. What if Alfred tried to run? No… He wouldn't do something like that when his precious aircraft was stuck on the ship. He cared a great deal for it… Admirable. But it was costing him his freedom.

Thinking about it frustrated the poor man and instead he decided to let his body fall victim to sleep. With the lights extinguished he pulled up the covers, lying his head against the pillow as eyes closed… The patch that covered one lay on the bedside table beside the needle and thread he'd used to stitch the wound. He was… Getting too old for all this drama.

Alfred slowly make way towards the door then he stepped out. It was chilly here on the deck, the moon glowing in the sky along with the thousand stars.. He like it here, if he can't fly up there then might as well enjoy the sky from the ground. Thankfully there's no sign of rain or whatsoever, storms tend to appear without warning here but judging by the calm waves and gentle breeze of evening wind, the weather will be perfect this week- he hoped. Changing is unpredictable.

Alfred climb up on the cockpit carefully, light curse slip out from his lips when he accidentally move his injured arm- at long last he lay on the pilot's seat of his treasured contraption. He close the hatch, warm.. despite the small hole on the windshield. "I'm here girl." He whisper, patting the wheel of his plane. "No one will hurt you." The Aviator soon fall to sleep, his fever decrease completely and wound no longer itch from the infection.

Morning. Alfred is up early because the beam of the sun directly hit his face, he grumble, turn to his other side but doing so made him whimper- he hit his poor injured arm right on the hard control panel, dammit! He have no choice but to get up and welcome the new day- a new day of torture that is. Stretching, except for his injured arm, Alfred took a deep breath to fill his lungs with fresh air. This is one of the many reasons why he wakes up early, if he's not too lazy to get up that is. The deck is empty, seems like everyone is still sleeping but the Chef soon crawl out from the crew's cabin. "Mornin'." Alfred greet with a bright smile and the Chef greeted in return. He's relieved to see Alfred alive and recovering- surprisingly quick.

"I'll leave ye be, boy. I need to cook breakfast for everyone."

"Can I cook today? I mean, I wasn't able to do that last night since I got sick… Let's just say this is my way of thanks." Chef gaze at the young man for a moment then he agree but on one condition. Alfred should let him watch so he could learn some new dishes. The two went to the kitchen to prepare, this will surely surprise the crew and hopefully enough to have him accepted as one of them. Either they like it or not, Alfred won't be leaving this ship, not until his beloved aircraft is fixed and can fly away from this damnation.

"You know, your captain is a bit difficult to read." Alfred started while stirring the creamy potato soup, it's a simple dish but can warm their belly and give them enough carbohydrates to survive a day and fiber too.

"Aye, Capt'n is always quiet. To be honest, not all of us know who he really is or heard anything about his background. Save for that firstmate, Gilbert, they travel together ever since the group was organized." Gilbert huh, that noisy albino. Maybe he should try talking to him, it's important to learn more about the Captain so that he can understand the guy even the slightest. Alfred dislike the grouchy old man but that doesn't mean he should act like an ass around him. If he want to stay in this ship until 'Sky is yours' is fixed then it's best to get along with that guy— or maybe turn him into a good person! Yeah!

They're done cooking, made a freshly baked bread, potato soup and even made some scrambled egg to go with the loaf. Perfect! This is way better than having a thin soup of egg and hard bread, right?

"Bring this to Captain." A tray of food and a cup of tea. "He eats alone so bring this to his quarter." But why him?! With a pout, the American make his way to the exit. The crew just stepped out from their quarter but thankfully they ignore the American, he's safe for now.

Meanwhile, Arthur's plan to wake up early were ruined since it was obvious his body had been a lot more exhausted than he originally thought. And his muscles ached… It wasn't a very comfortable awakening and to make things worse there was a knock at his door. Breakfast? He was behind on schedule, but his stomach growled in want. Turns out it was the Aviator, looking a lot better than yesterday and so did the food for that matter.

"I brought food, Sire."

"Sire? That's how you address a King. I'm no King." He was a Captain! Far better. More freedom.

"I know that but you're acting like a King now, lazy and spoiled. Or do you prefer being called Princess? I don't mind, it suits you anyway since you're always demanding. Here, eat while it's warm, it won't be as delicious if it gets cold, ya know?" He close the door behind him using his heel and as the man gets closer.

Lazy and spoiled?! If Alfred wasn't already recovering from injuries Arthur would have given him a few more for that comment! He wasn't lazy! The only reason he'd slept so later was because of this man standing right in front of him! Stitching a wound and trying to keep a fever down at the same time could be exhausting, he'd worked hard! And as a Captain he wasn't allowed breaks to do whatever he wanted unlike the crew who could gamble and joke. "My fault? Tch- You're the one who tackled me." He brought it on himself, there would always be consequences for an attack on the Captain. "What's wrong with the food? It looks… nice." A sight he never expected to see. Maybe it was poisoned! A huge plot to rid the ship of a Captain so he could fix his craft and escape!

"I cooked it." He said proudly before placing the tray on the side table. "Its uhh… My way of thanks.. I guess.. for helping me last night.. Even though it's completely your fault but still you helped me, nonetheless.." Man, this is awkward.

"Hmm… Set it down and prove it's not laced with poison. Take a bite." No harm in using him to test it, right? If he poisoned it he'd receive a taste of his own medicine for trying to outsmart Arthur. The great Captain of this ship! Strong! Ruthless! And in his pyjamas! Unflattering… He hadn't got dressed or even left his bed yet. He was exposed but thankfully the rest of the crew wasn't there to see him. Just this useless lump.

With a scornful look, Alfred pick up a spoon to have a sip of the potato soup, took a small bite of the bread and then a piece of scrambled egg. "There, happy? Damn.. That made me hungry too— Fuck, I hope they didn't eat everything in the kitchen! They need to leave some food for me!" Sadly they're not done talking, Alfred just hope that Chef left some breakfast for him or he'll be screwed.

"You'll be seeing the doctor today so make sure you clean yourself up. No one wants a patient covered in dirt." Arthur would have to dig out some different clothes too, some places he could stay dressed in his Captain's attire but the place they were going was full of guards. They dressed as merchants to avoid suspicion. It worked well so far.

"Doctor?" Ah yes. Chef did mention about this, the Captain was worried about him and agreed that they should stop in the nearest port to have Alfred's injury checked. The infection might get worst and his fever will come back and this time, he won't be able to survive it.

"You're dismissed, if the food wasn't so good I probably wouldn't have bothered with the doctor. You can die for all I care." He'd never change.

"Hehehe, if you say so!" Arthur is hiding it but in truth, he's worried about this sexy ass. Maybe Arthur is starting to like him? Damn my good looks, I suppose it can't be helped, ladies and even guys love me. There goes his ego talking inside his head.

Finally dismissed, Alfred scamper back to the kitchen with haste and every crew are still there, chowing down the food.. But they all stop when Alfred step in, they gaze at him for a moment and then smiled.

Arthur was finally left on his own, Alfred would join and eat with the crew. He'd be one of them soon… Sticking to them and joining in on their games and conversations. A family that Arthur would take care of no matter what got in their way. He looked after them but never mingled, he simply kept to himself, eating alone and talking to no one unless it was to give orders. Sine would find it sad but Arthur had grown used to it. All he needed was his ship anyway, still standing strong and repaired to look good as new.

The food was great. The last time he'd eaten something this good was on land at a restaurant. And even though Alfred's cooking was good Arthur wouldn't dare replace the current Chef. The Chef was happy with his job, and he'd been in that position for years. He had more freedom than the others… More trust.

With the food finished Arthur was left to change, the pyjamas neatly folded up as he retrieved new clean clothes. Warm… If he hurried he could make it out before the crew finished eating. Thankfully the deck was empty when he stepped out… He could be alone still. Taking his place at the wheel he closed his eyes, the wind was relaxing and the fresh air was much more pleasant than the disgusting air on land. Port was close. Visible from the ship and it wasn't long till they reached it.

"You'll rest soon, my dear… Then I'll fix you up while the crew go drinking."