"Flogging time!" someone called happily. Miguel turned to see the guard whom Tulio had been talking to. He grimaced. Three burly sailors followed him, two men to bind and lead one of the prisoners. Miguel just caught Tulio muttering to one of his guards, "Please. Don't let him know." The guard nodded.

Once they reached the deck, they were forced to stand side by side. Cortes made an appearance, looking from the brunette to the blond and back again. "The fair one first. He'll scream more." Nodding obediently, the sailors on Miguel pulled him over to the mast. They took off his shirt and tied his hands to the solid column of wood, and then one of Tulio's guards stepped forward with a whip of braided leather, with tiny pieces of metal imbedded into it, made just for tearing apart skin and drawing blood. When the guard stepped close to him, just to inspect the ropes around his wrists, Miguel heard Tulio whisper harshly, "The look, Miguel! Give him the look!" Miguel wasn't stupid; he did what he was told, on the off chance that the guard would take pity on him. Cortes growled something about the hold up, when the guard stepped away and said, "I can't do it. Just look at his face." He walked over to Cortes and had a short conversation with him. Cortes argued that it wouldn't be fair to the brunette to be whipped. The guard said something quietly, and Cortes nodded. He gave a signal with a sweep of his hand, a grin on his face, and Miguel was again knocked unconscious.

When he woke, Tulio lay beside him, facing him. He looked at his friend's sleeping face. Forced sleep or no, Miguel loved Tulio's face when he wasn't awake. He didn't look angry, and he didn't look worried. The deep lines in his forehead from bunching his brows together were completely erased. The only face he liked better was when Tulio was happy, but that one didn't appear often, because he usually appeared worried when he was concentrating, which he did when they scammed the townsfolk. The last time he'd been happy was the feast in El Dorado. Miguel wished it wasn't such a rare occurrence.

The blond reached out and tucked a stray piece of hair behind Tulio's ear. He let his fingers linger on the brunette's cheek for a moment. Tulio leaned into his hand, and Miguel held his breath hopefully. "Chel," Tulio murmured. Miguel took his hand away like it'd been bitten, and held it to himself. No, it didn't work that way. Tulio was with Chel. Tulio had betrayed him. No matter how beautiful he was, Miguel wasn't going to show him any affection. He got a sick feeling right in the pit of his stomach, and promptly ignored it. As they'd gotten slowly closer, Miguel had begun to think of Tulio as much more than a friend. He'd kept this to himself, of course.

There was nothing else to do. He had a fitful sleep on the hard floor, while Tulio finally awoke and tried planning again. Somewhere in the middle of his sleep, Tulio must have been allowed above deck. "Probably for food," Miguel reasoned aloud, sneering. He couldn't sleep at all for a while, and then he heard the door creak open and a loud thud sounded beside him. He turned to see Tulio again, lying on his side, making a pained face.

"Why were you-" Miguel started.

"Sh, Miguel, go back to sleep. Don't worry about it." Miguel nodded grudgingly and turned away.

They continued in this way the next day, the taller man leaving while the shorter slept, returning and telling him not to worry, and to go to sleep. When the food came, Tulio insisted that Miguel eat it. "Keep up your strength. For the plan to work, you'll need to be energized. Eat." By Miguel's count it was their third day on the ship that Tulio was gone for much longer. When he returned, food was dropped down the hole the second he entered the room. Miguel looked from him to the food and back, and said "you eat it."

"Miguel, I told you," Tulio said, his face drawn. "You need your strength. There's not enough for two."

"It's been three days, Tulio. Eat." He looked the brunette up and down. He wasn't a broad man to begin with, but lately his cheeks were looking especially hollow and his eyes sunken with dark circles under them. Even as he observed this, the taller man sat down against the wooden support, shaking his head. "I'm not hungry, Miguel. Please, eat."

Miguel didn't make the plans. He didn't come up with the cons. But he'd seen enough of Tulio doing it to be able to form an idea in his head. "Alright, I'll eat." It was what his friend wanted to hear, so he dropped the subject, closed his eyes and leaned his head back. His breathing was shallow and pained.

Miguel picked up the bowl of bread crusts and wandered over, standing over Tulio. He looked down at him hatefully. Was this his way of making up for betting half the food away?

"Tulio, don't make me force you to eat this." Caught a little off guard, the brunette looked up, with a tired and startled expression.

"And how do you plan to do tha-" He was cut off by food being shoved down his throat.

His eyes widened, his eyebrows drew together, and he started choking on the dry food in his mouth. Miguel, however, shoved another piece in. Tulio brought his hands up to stop him, but the blond just grabbed the skinny wrists in one hand and held them to the support over his ex-best friend's head. He kept shoving food in, and Tulio ended up spitting what he couldn't swallow off to the side. Lastly, he splashed the water in his face, which managed to at least wash crumbs off.

Miguel still held Tulio's hands, and Tulio still sat there and choked. He didn't ask Miguel any questions, or even try to break the hold on his wrists. Miguel wondered vaguely if he even had the strength to do so if he did try. When he finally stopped coughing, Miguel lifted Tulio's face to meet his own. The brunette's head lolled back on his neck, as if there was nothing there to hold it in place. A little worried, Miguel let his arms fall to his sides. Tulio looked like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Miguel backed away. Tulio promptly fell over, lying on his side on the floor, shivering and curling in on himself like a scared child.

"What have I done?" the blond whispered to himself. He scrambled away from his ex-best friend, just to put some distance between them. He looked at his hands, and watched as a big fat tear fell into his palm. "What have I done?" he repeated, sobbing whole-heartedly now.

He slept fitfully that night, tossing and turning, dreaming of people laughing and Tulio's anguished screams. He half woke up somewhere in the middle, and the screaming didn't stop, but he realized he was still half asleep and ignored it.