PLEASE READ:
Note that this chapter contains attempted rape. If this is something that you are not comfortable with, skip the section that begins and ends with two asterisks. (**)

Now that the warning is over with: Hey everyone. So, I'm posting a day early. Why? Because I have school things tomorrow, and I don't want to have to be distracted if they take longer than planned. Plus I was anxious to get this chapter out.

I've got to admit, there is a lot I want to say before this chapter gets posted. One being that I'm blown away by the reception this story had gotten. Blown away, and terrified. Why terrified? Because I'm a self-loathing perfectionist who does not like this story and fears that I will disappoint all of you. So yeah. There's a lot more I want to say along those lines, but I won't. Because I made a promise to myself a year or so ago that I would stop sabotaging my work, and if I speak of my dislikes, I will likely be sabotaging myself yet again. And I don't want that. Just know that I am not happy with how this story, over all, turned out. I hope that you all like it, but if you do not, know that I understand.

Also, I use 'pirate speak' in this chapter. Basically, I found an online pirate translator and put my dialogue in there, and got how a pirate would say the words (allegedly). If you do not understand them, just send me a message and I'll translate for you. Also, Dipper is a bit naive. Just saying. He also has a concussion and is kind of confused throughout the majority of this chapter and part of the next.

Please continue to review/comment. I really do not like my writing, in general, so knowing some people do is a comfort. And if you do not like it, it helps to know what I'm doing wrong.

Enjoy.

Dipper woke to an intense pain in his arm and his head, causing him to groan. He tried to roll over onto his side, but was stopped when his arms refused to move. Confused, he opened his eyes slightly, trying to figure out what was going on. His head was fuzzy, and he didn't quite know where he was. It took him a while to get his eyes to focus in the dim lighting, but when he finally could see clearly, he felt his eyes widen as he saw dark bars. As he smelled the scent of dying fish and rotten salt water. As he, regrettably, realized where he was. As he remembered what had happened.

The ship had been attacked. He had taken Mabel and had tried to get to safety. He had tackled a pirate captain to save his great uncle. He had nearly been murdered by said pirate captain. Mabel had been taken captive. He had saved Mabel. He had been taken captive. He was a captive.

Parts of his memory were still a bit fuzzy, the whole night a blur of panic and fear. He kept getting parts of it confused with another night, so similar that he wasn't sure he hadn't been transported back in time. Some aspects of the night were clearer, while others still remained muddied by pain, shock, and painful memories. But the one thing he remembered, clearly, was his sister. And what he had done.

As he sat up, gingerly to keep his head from aching too badly, part of him felt shocked at what he had done while saving his twin, how he had taken down four pirates that were at least twice his width and likely thrice his strength. He recalled reading somewhere that adrenaline made people do seemingly impossible feats, but he still felt befuddled as to what he had done, it was just so bizarre. Perhaps a god really had been listening to him, after all. He supposed, though, that whatever had caused his actions didn't really matter. After all, while he may be trapped on a pirate ship with little hope of escaping, at least his sister was okay. Well, he hoped that she was okay. He was sure she would have been able to swim back to the ship, that the ship's damage couldn't have been that bad. He was sure of it. Yet, in this dark prison, his head pounding, he couldn't help but feel a lingering doubt in his mind. That by shoving his sister off the ship to save her, he had doomed her instead. He shuddered lightly at the thought, which made a jangling sound occur. What the… looking at his arms, he noticed that there were thick, heavy, metal manacles covering his thin wrists.

When had those appeared? He stared at the manacles, thick chains that led behind him, moving his arms to test their resistance. He winced a bit as he pulled his left shoulder, which stung bitterly, but fought through the pain and kept lifting so he could examine them. The manacles were heavy, but not so heavy that he couldn't move. They looked pretty strong, though, so there was no hope of breaking them. He absently wondered how long they were, if he was even more trapped than he had originally thought. In order to test their length, he stood up, wobbling a bit, and walked as far from the wall as possible. It was difficult to do, his mind and shoulder rebelling the movement, but he did it and distantly noticed that he had about four feet of movement in either direction, which allowed him reign of nearly the entire cell. The place where the manacles were positioned on the wall, near the floor, would likely allow him to lie down to sleep at night with them on. Probably for the convenience of the pirates, he thought resentfully. He could feel his head was getting lighter with dizziness, so he quickly sat back down before he passed out again. The pirates had probably put these on him while he had been passed out, to keep him from escaping. He shuddered at the thought.

His examination of his restraints done with for the moment, Dipper then put his attention on his wound, which was now throbbing. He couldn't really turn his arm that much with the restraints, but he could see that the entirety of his left sleeve was now coated with blood. The wound was probably deep, then. Hopefully not too deep, he thought worriedly. He doubted that the pirate ship's infirmary was a place he ever wanted to visit. They might just take his arm off for the hell of it. He'd need to clean it the first chance he got. He had read a book on medicine and first aid, once, and it said that if you didn't clean wounds they could get infected and need to be amputated. Dipper liked his arm, thank you very much, so losing it was not in his plans. He doubted he'd get any herbs or alcohol, but maybe the pirates would give him some water. It was an essential for life, which surely the pirates knew... If they really wanted to sell him, he doubted they would let him die. Right?

Unless, of course, this was all a game to them. Pirates were sick and twisted; he wouldn't be surprised if they kept him just to watch him suffer. Perhaps they didn't even want to sell him. Perhaps they spared his life just so they could watch him die a slower, much more painful death. He shuddered once more at the thought.

Well, for the moment he'd be unable to do anything. With no water, he'd not be able to clean his wound, and it wouldn't really help if he wrapped it or not, not if it wasn't cleaned, especially since he wasn't really bleeding heavily anymore. Plus, he had nothing to wrap it with. He had noticed absently a little while ago that he no longer had his coat. He struggled for a minute, then, to think of why, but eventually settled on it most likely having gotten taken when the manacles had been put on. Which meant that now he just had his thin shirt and pants to tear up to make bandages. And if it got as cold down here as it got in the lower decks of his great uncle's ship, he'd need every layer he had.

Letting out a sigh, he leaned back again the hard wooden wall behind him. This was bad. This was very, very bad. He didn't think that he regretted saving his twin. Knew that he'd never regret that. He'd was positive that he'd never wish his sister to be here in his stead. He knew what pirates did to woman. He could take whatever they threw at him, but Mabel wouldn't have been able to. So no, he didn't regret it. But he couldn't say that he enjoyed the fact he was taken captive by pirates. Who knew what would happen to him, down here. Who knew what they would do to him. He heard tales of horror that prisoners on pirate ships went through, none of them comforting. At least he wasn't a girl, though. What women went through while held captive by pirates was the worst thing that could happen to a person. Luckily, things like that couldn't happen to men.

Still, he knew that he would have to think of a way out. He had to at least try to escape. While he may not have much brawn, let it not be said that Dipper Pines was a pushover. He wouldn't sit here and wait for his sentence. He'd do his best to escape, even if it seemed hopeless. But not right now. Now, he would rest a bit. He would examine the ship around him, figure out a routine. There were no portholes down here, so he'd have to figure out time by the times he was given food and water. Assuming, of course, that they intended to feed him. He let out a long breath as he sat back, feeling his mind ache as he thought through everything. In order to save himself the headache, he stopped his thoughts, hoping that if he let himself rest, things would get better. God, he felt muddled.

Time passed as he sat in his cage, his mind blank. After a while he wanted to start thinking again, to come up with a plan, but he was just so tired. His head was still aching, and thinking made it pound. He wouldn't be surprised if that demon had really damaged his head when he had slammed him against the deck. He'd feel around for a bump, but he was afraid he might accidentally hit his head with the manacles, making things infinitely worse. So all he really could do was sit and stare into space, the sounds of the ship echoing around him. Unlike on his great uncle's ship, the Mystery, he didn't feel any comfort from these sounds. It was different here, even if they were similar enough. He couldn't really explain why, other than the fact that he knew that he wasn't safe here.

He wasn't sure how much time passed before he heard a door open. He hadn't moved at all since his examination of his cell. The longer he sat there, the number he began to feel. Everything was so real, down here in this dark, damp, and smelly prison. When he first woke, he was confused and muddled, trying his best to understand what had happened, thinking clinically about things. Now, as the minutes passed, he felt his confusion fading and his head clearing somewhat. He knew now that he wasn't scared, he wasn't angry. He was just numb, which he supposed was good. It was better than feeling utterly terrified. After all, he had enough time to feel afraid and angry later.

When he heard the door open, though, he didn't know what to feel. So he felt nothing and just turned his head to glare at the hulking pirate who was now leering down at him, a small plate of food and water in his hands. Ah, so they were feeding him, then. That was something, he supposed. At least he wouldn't die of starvation.

He watched passively as the pirate threw the food onto the ground, the water following, half of it splashing out of the cup. The pirate sneered at him once more before leaving, saying not a word. Dipper wasn't sure, but he thought that pirate might have been the one who had restrained his sister the other day. If so, he hoped the pirate's arm hurt painfully.

It took him a few moments to gain the energy to get up and crawl over to the food and water, his arm aching as he moved it. Now that he had some water he could finally clean it. His mouth was dry, but it was more important to not get an infection. He wouldn't die of dehydration for a week, but he could die of an infection within days if he wasn't careful. But, as reached the water and looked at it, he wasn't sure if he wanted to put it anywhere near his wound. It smelled, and it looked filthy. Part of him knew that if he cleaned his gash with this water, he might get an even worse infection, doing the exact opposite of cleaning it. He didn't even want to know what would happen if he drank it. So he turned from it, his nose crinkling with disgust, looking at the plate that was lying next to it.

The food wasn't all that much more appetizing, he noticed with a sinking heart. It was a single piece of bread, with mold over parts of it. He nearly gagged as he saw it, sending a quiet apology to the Mystery's chef. He knew that if he ever left this ship, he'd never complain about his food again. Not after seeing this revolting 'meal.' He decided, then, that he wasn't all that hungry, even as his stomach growled. With nothing over here to interest him anymore, he moved back over to the wall and went back to his previous position. Logically, he knew that one day he would have to eat the food he was given, while they still gave it, but he wouldn't until he was so starving that the mold wouldn't seem that unappetizing. He'd simply have to hope that he didn't get a disease from eating it.

Well, that had been bad. He let out a sigh, trying his best to sort through his thoughts as he sat against the hard wall behind him. So, it appeared that he'd be unable to wash his wound. He still needed to look at it, though, needed to see how bad it already was. He was sure there were other things he could do, to lessen the chances of infection. Things that he just couldn't think of at that moment because of his aching head and muddled thoughts. But he… he was sure that he needed to see how deep it was. Right? God he was tired. He just wanted to sleep until his head stopped aching like it was. But… but he needed to find the strength to look at his wound. He was sure of that. And something about not falling asleep? For some reason? He didn't really know. But he had to look at his arm. He didn't want to die of an infection. Not after surviving a pirate attack. Nor did he particularly want to lose his arm, if he could help it.

With that settled, he carefully- knowing that if he went too fast he'd hurt his arm- rolled up his left sleeve. The wound was pretty high up on his shoulder, he felt that, but luckily it was in the front, not the back, so he would sort of be able to see it. He hoped. He let out a low hiss as he rolled the sleeve up past the wound, partially out of pain, but mostly because of how it looked.

He knew that this was not how a 'healthy' wound should look, even if he didn't have formal experience with wounds. It was about two or three inches wide, bright red and slightly puffy, with white pus crusting at the edges. He couldn't tell if it was infected yet or not, as he had never seen an infected wound, but it did not look good. As he looked, he knew that he needed to clean it, but with what? That water would just make things worse, he knew that. But if he left it alone, surely it would get more infected.

He let out a frustrated groan as he let his head lean back against the wall. This was the worst. Sitting here with no medicine, no clean water, and no bandages. He wished that he had read that medicine book more carefully, wished that it had informed him of what to do in situations like this. Wished that his head would stop hurting so he could properly think. He was alone and injured and scared whilst in the middle of a pirate ship. Just what the hell what he supposed to do in this scenario? He had no hope that the pirates would fix him up; if they hadn't while chaining him up and taking his coat, they wouldn't now.

This was all so hopeless, he thought miserably. He didn't want to die; he was only sixteen. He had a long life ahead of him. He was supposed to get married, have children; continue his family line. This wasn't how it was supposed to go! God, why did pirates have to ruin everything? He could feel tears gathering in his eyes as he thought of everything, a few shuddering gasps escaping his mouth against his will. He wanted to go home. He wanted his mother. He wanted his sister. He wanted to be safe and warm in his bed, he wanted this to all be a bad dream. But it wasn't. And he'd never get to go home again. Thanks to pirates.

Tears began to stream down his face then. He could feel that chilling numbness in his chest, but now he also felt hopelessness. And despair. And panic. What was the point, anymore? He was going to die here. God, he was going to die here. Even if he somehow got his wound looked at and cleaned, he would not survive his experience on this ship. He knew it. He knew it. And, even if he did survive, he would just get sold to the highest bidder. Escape? What was the point? He was in the middle of the ocean; there was no escaping. Especially not with his arm busted. He could say all he wanted that he wouldn't give up, but let's face it. He had no hope of ever actually leaving this ship by his own volition. And he knew this.

By the time his tears dried up, Dipper was feeling even more light-headed and muddled. His stomach was growling and his wound screamed. It felt like fire. He closed his eyes for a moment, wanting to rest them. They were so heavy, and crying had made them feel puffy and sore. He ached all over and he just wanted to forget, if only for a moment. He didn't care if he wasn't supposed to sleep for whatever reason his muddled mind told him he shouldn't.

He would deal with everything later. He would come up with a plan to escape, even if it wouldn't work, later.

For now, he would rest.

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~

He didn't know when he fell asleep, but he felt himself jerk awake a while later, his back aching from sleeping in a seated position. He was unsure what had woken him, his mind sluggish from pain and sleep. He tried to blink the sleep out of his eyes, looking around, but was unable to see in the dim light. Was unable to understand anything with how his head still ached. It was only when he heard the thudding of feet on the wooden floor, the muttered voices outside his cell, that he realized he wasn't alone anymore. That he remembered, once again, just where he was. When he heard the lock on his cell door unlatch, he felt his heart start to race, fear creeping in. The pirates were in his cell. They had to be. But… but why? What were they going to do to him?

**"Looks like th' laddie be up, lads." He heard a gruff voice mutter, followed by dark chuckles. He felt his breath catch in his throat. He could barely understand them, their rough, uncultured accents harsh on his ears, but he knew the inflection they used. This was not boding well for him.

"Jolly. 'Tis more a ruckus 'tis way." A different voice replied, which made them all laugh again. Dipper's throat was dry as he stared at them, only able to see the outline of each pirate. He counted four, maybe five.

"W-what do you want from me?" He managed to question, his head pounding, his voice shaking from fear. One of the pirates snorted.

"Listen to his proper accent," the first pirate sneered, "What gunna we do to ye, laddie? Well, why don't ye find out?"

Suddenly, the pirates were moving. He felt one of them yank him upward, causing him to yelp with pain. That only seemed to amuse the pirate, who was grinning, his yellow teeth illuminated by the dim candle light. Dipper tried not to breathe, the pirate's breath rancid. Like rum and rot, he thought distantly as he leaned away. He didn't fight just yet, though. He needed to figure out what they were doing before he came up with a plan. If he could come up with one, that was. He still felt off and these pirates jerking him around was not helping.

"Ye're extra pretty, aren't ye, laddie?" The pirate holding him asked. He could feel a hand gripping his hair, which made him gasp with pain. He didn't know what was going on. His head ached, and the pirate pulling on it was just making everything worse. God, this made no sense. Their words, they made no sense. He was pretty? What did that have to do with anything? Just what were they going to do?

"Could almost pretend ye was a lass." Another pirate piped in, this one grabbing at his shirt. Why... Why was he doing that? And what did he mean, they could almost pretend he was a girl? Dipper struggled a bit now, fear filling his heart. Were these pirates drunk? He thought they might be drunk. The pirate behind him grabbed him and started holding his arms down at his side, causing him to struggle more. He didn't understand what was happening, but his gut was telling him that it wasn't good. Definitely not… not good. At all.

But then, then he felt one of the pirates tugging at his trousers. Pulling them… pulling them down. And suddenly, like a bolt of lightning hitting him, he knew what was happening. He knew what these pirates wanted from him. Oh. Oh God. He gagged, his weak struggling intensifying infinitely. No. No. Nonononono. This... This didn't happen to men. It… It just didn't. He knew what pirates did to woman. Everyone knew. But men... Men were safe! You couldn't, couldn't do that to another man! You, you just couldn't!

But he felt his trousers getting tugged downward, and what else were these pirates trying to do to him? What else could they want that had his trousers and underthings pulled down to his ankles, his most private parts displayed to the world?

God, he was going to be sick. He struggled harder, kicking, fighting. He screamed, ignoring the ache it caused in his head, begging someone to help him, even though he knew no help would come. He was in the middle of a pirate ship, of course no help would come, but he couldn't help his frantic screams. The pirates didn't even bother to cover his mouth, seeming entertained by his screaming. One of the pirates tried to grab him, grab his... But he kicked, sending the pirate stumbling backwards. He was so weak, but he didn't want them to touch him. He could feel the other pirates grabbing his legs, holding him down against the pirate that was forcing his arms to stay by his sides, and he did his best to fight, but he couldn't make them let him go. They were so much stronger than he was. He could feel tears streaming down his face, but he didn't care. He didn't care.

God, this couldn't be happening. He screamed yet again, pleading for someone to help him, but he knew no one would come. There would be no daring escape, no rescue this time. He was trapped, and these pirates would do whatever it was that pirates did to men in their captivity. He let out a loud sob as that thought sunk in. No. Please God, no. He knew pirates hurt their prisoners, but he hadn't thought that they would do this. Not to him, not to a man. He had only been here a day, and yet it was already a personal hell. God, what had he done in life to ever deserve this?

Just as he felt one of the pirates grabbing him, his sobbing now loud and frantic, his head pounding to the point he could barely feel anything else, the door to the brig slammed opened, causing light to flood in. The pirate that was holding dropped him suddenly, causing him to cry out in pain, his arm hurting fiercely. But he didn't even think as he tugged his trousers and underthings back up, shuffling backwards until his back hit the wall, eyes wide and shifting as he tried to breathe. His chest was shuddering with frantic sobs, his heart was racing. His mind was muddled and afraid, barely able to comprehend what had just happened. What had almost happened.

**"Well, well, well. You lads having a party without me?" A high pitched voice rang out, causing Dipper to shiver with fear. Oh God. Oh no. This was worse. Much, much worse. He had thought that perhaps he had been saved, but now he knew that he hadn't. He had just upgraded his horror. He could feel the tears flooding down his face as he closed his eyes tight, naively hoping that this would all be a dream and that this wasn't happening right now. Why was this happening to him?

"No, cap'n. We were just havin' a wee bit o' a ruckus, that's all." One of the pirates claimed, shuffling slightly, sounding just a bit nervous. Dipper didn't care. He was barely paying attention, trying his hardest to not throw up.

"Oh really? 'Cause here I was, passing by on my nightly patrol of the ship, only to hear my prisoner screaming like a little girl. Care to explain to me why that was, mate?" The demon questioned, his tone pleasant, but with a dangerous edge hidden inside it. Dipper shivered again.

There was no reply this time. The only sound was of the shuffling of the pirates' feet on the wooden floor. A moment passed before he heard a dangerous chuckle escape the pirate captain.

"No answer? Very well."

Suddenly, Dipper was pushed to the side as the pirate captain grabbed the pirate who had spoken, the one who had initiated this whole thing, and slammed him against the wall, a knife under his throat. Dipper let out a startled gasp as he looked up, leaning back against his good arm.

"Tell me, did I authorize a 'wee bit o' a ruckus?'" The pirate captain hissed, pressing his blade closer to the pirate's throat. Dipper could see the pirate shaking his head furiously, only to get stopped by the captain pressing his blade closer. "I asked you a question!"

"N-no, cap'n!" The pirate gasped out. The captain growled.

"No. No, I did not. And yet, here we are. Tell me, do you think that you can just do whatever you please? That you're allowed to take from what belongs to me? Do you think you're my better? Do you think that you should be captain?" The captain hissed, his teeth bared as the pirate shook his head once again.

"No! No I do not!"

"Then don't you ever, ever, do something dealing with my prisoners without my explicate orders again. Do you understand me, worm?"

"Yarr! Yarr, I understand thee!"

"Good." The captain spat, before tossing the pirate to the side, forcing him to land on the ground beside Dipper, who hurriedly scrambled away despite the pain in his arm and head. The captain, seeing his movement, then turned his attention to Dipper, a wide, manic grin appearing on his face. Dipper felt his heart stop at the look, wondering what the demon was going to do to him. He noticed that while the captain seemed angry at these pirates, it didn't seem to be because of what they almost did to him. Instead, it was because they had done it without permission. That meant that this demon might still… that he might… that he was still in danger.

But nothing happened. Dipper watched in confusion as the captain grinned at him for a moment, before turning his attention back on the members of his crew.

"Listen here, and listen good. This boy is off limits, understand? He belongs to me. And you should all know by now that I do not share. If anyone so much as lays a finger on him, they will be walking the plank. Am I making myself clear?" The captain asked his crew with a raised eyebrow, which had them all frantically nodding.

"Aye, cap'n!" They all shouted, even the one who had been tossed onto the ground, though he sounded just a touch bitter.

"Good. Now be gone." The captain said, watching as all the pirates fled the room. If he hadn't been so terrified and addled, he'd find it funny to see such ragged men running away with their tails between their legs. But instead, all he felt was fear as he looked up at the pirate captain, realizing that they were alone now and that the pirate could do anything to him. Especially since he apparently 'belonged' to him. Whatever that meant.

But still the demon did nothing. He just stared down at him with that grin back on his face. Moments passed, their gazes locked- Dipper's terrified, the captain's amused- before the demon chuckled and walked over to the door, locking his cell as he left.

"See you tomorrow, Pine Tree!" The captain called over his shoulder before leaving the room, the brig darkening as the door slammed closed. Dipper felt his heart pound as adrenaline flowed through him, unsure what just happened.

Instead of trying to puzzle the captain's words and actions out, Dipper just laid down and tried to calm himself, sobs leaving his throat against his will as memories of the past several moments bombarded him. He didn't want to think of it, he didn't want to ever think again. He'd sort everything out when he woke. His head ached, his arm ached, and it was starting to dawn on him just how much trouble he was in, stuck here on this ship.

It was a while before he managed to fall back to sleep. And even then, it was troubled.

God he hoped nothing like that ever happened again.

He wasn't sure he would survive this if it did.