HUD: Sorry for the wait! I was away for a week then was sick because of the trip and now I'm just getting back into the swing of things. Hope you forgive me and enjoy!

"What mess have you caught yourself in, I wonder?"

Anthony tried his best to work his throat, to loosen the searing constriction caused by being graced by the captain's shadow. When no words or sounds came forth, the pale man smirked.

"Ah, I see that your tongue has abandoned you." He spoke softly, his words only loud enough for Anthony to hear. "That fire died disappointingly quick."

Anthony watched as the captain stood, his shadow stretching further over him. Still his throat would not unclench, and it seemed that the pirate's full dark presence absolutely wasn't helping. Anthony could feel the warm blood dripping from his cheek and now teasing his chin; he watched the captain wipe that very blood from his fingers onto a kerchief he produced from within his overcoat.

"Goldie," the captain called, voice now carrying across his gathered crew. There was a sharpness there that hadn't been when he spoke to Anthony, even through his annoyance.

Anthony heard shuffling behind him. "Aye, Cap'n."

"Clean the lad and bring him to me," the captain answered. He tucked the now spotted white kerchief back within the folds of his coat. Anthony's throat finally released only to seize again when the words of his fate sank in. When Goldie's hand fell to his shoulder and pulled him to his feet, the entire world spun.

For the moment, so enraged was he at seeing Jack's hat disgraced by the very pirate that beat him unconscious, Anthony had been blinded. For that moment he was simply himself, fighting a smug bastard for his honour or, in this case, Jack's. He was in Italy, fighting some drunkard too far gone to recognize Anthony's sister for who she is and not a barmaid; not on a bloody pirate ship fighting bloodthirsty men who would only stop their blows should he stop breathing.

Anthony blinked as he was pulled back, the sounds of the ocean and ship drowned out by the dark captain's voice, commanding and deadly even at such a low volume. Before Goldie pulled him below deck, the pirate's voice was lost to him.

"Get yer sea legs workin', Tony," Goldie grumbled. Anthony murmured an apology, fully aware that he had thrown his weight to the older and much shorter man but hardly caring. He felt sicker than when he had started his voyage, long before Bill had fixed him the gruff cure-all used to fight the sickness at sea. His world lurched to and fro, and not from just the seemingly exaggerated motion of the ship; the blood dripping from his cheek and the still throbbing blows to his skull told his body that those 'sea legs' Goldie wanted weren't working and were happily back on the Cavalier. Goldie obviously saw something on the inventor's face that prompted him to snatch a nearby bucket and dump the contents to the deck.

"If'n ye won't hold t' me, hold t' this," the man said, pushing the bucket to Anthony and forcing his hands to hold it. Scarcely a second later and Anthony plunged his face to the rim, his body rocking from his own heaving. Goldie dropped a warm palm to his shoulder and held tight. Anthony couldn't help but feel some relief - of all the wrong turns his life had taken in such a short amount of time, Goldie seemed to be the beacon amongst the dark.

Anthony sank to his haunches, cradling the bucket like a lifeline and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Goldie sat with his hand still on his shoulder, and gave a soft shake. "Ye feel a tad better?"

Anthony nodded, still not trusting his voice. Goldie smiled that toothy grin of his and stood back up. He took the bucket and its meager contents and moved to the nearest porthole. After unceremoniously dumping the sick into the ocean, he set the bucket aside for cleaning and moved back over. "C'mon, Tony. The cap'n dudin't much care for waitin." He held his hand out patiently. Anthony stared for a moment, willing himself to move, but the sudden opening of the trap door to the deck got his feet beneath him as his sole motivation.

Goldie helped him to the galley, snapping occasionally at the pirates milling about around them. Anthony received several dirty looks but ignored them as best as possible. The pirate that had caused it all eyed Anthony murderously; seeing that Goldie was busy gathering medicinals, Anthony took the opportunity to flick his middle finger and reveled in the anger it caused the man. Feeling more than a bit smug, he smiled brightly when Goldie stepped back into his view with a bottle and hot rag.

Before long they were alone, Goldie dutifully cleaning the freshly opened wound on Anthony's cheek. What was left of the scabbing was pulled away along with the new that had formed as they fled. "Ye keep it up and that pretty mug o' yers will be scarred," Goldie murmured, teasing. Anthony snorted.

"As it hardly matters," Anthony answered, drawing a snigger from Goldie. "Should these fools have their way, I shan't see the light of the morrow."

Goldie stilled his hand, his sniggering dying off immediately. "Don't speak 'at way, Tony. The cap'n 'as yer back."

Anthony couldn't help his scoff. "I am but cargo to him, and now a menace. I doubt he has much use for me after today."

"Mayhaps," Goldie said as he continued his cleaning. Sometime in his tone was cryptic, but he wasn't volunteering. The curiousity was driving Anthony mad.

"What does that mean, Goldie?" Anthony asked. Goldie schooled his features to that of nonchalance as he rubbed in fresh antiseptic. Anthony hissed from the burn. "Goldie!"

Goldie grabbed his chin roughly and pressed a finger to his lips. "Silence, boy. I be tellin' ye soon enuff. Now shaddup so's I can finish - and stop yer damn squirmin'."

Anthony huffed but did as he was told. Goldie worked with a slight hum, something Anthony didn't notice before as the pirates coursed around them. The old pirate ran the rag over his fresh wound once more then tapped his chin in thought. A moment of silence was ended by an abrupt snap, and Goldie was up and back to the cabinet he had gathered his supplies from. He was back with a crude goblet between his hands and held it out to Anthony.

"Drink half an' swish th' rest 'round," Goldie instructed. Anthony eyed the concoction but did as he was told. It was minty with a touch of lime, something he was surprised to note aboard a pirate ship. It tasted wonderful and fresh and was a tasty balm for his dried and sore throat. He swished the rest and spat back into the goblet, not at all surprised to see bits of sick and blood floating in the now frothy drink.

"Aye, works like a charm!" Goldie said proudly, taking the goblet and dumping it into a nearby pail.

"What was that?" Anthony asked, feeling far too refreshed for the day he had been having.

"A secret the cap'n an' I 'ave," Goldie answered, his voice low but the tone still proud. "See, the cap'n 'as a few vanities. Cleanliness be one o' 'em, so's I made dis mouthrinse. Bit o' lime, some minced mint, water an' a touch o' rum from th' Caribbean. Works like a charm ev'ry time!"

Anthony nodded, the ingenuity and simplicity of it surprising him. "You are quite the genius, Goldie."

The grizzled old man's neck reddened. "Nah, mate. Ye be the only genius aboard dis vessel."

Anthony grinned brightly, not at all expecting the praise. "There's room for another, Goldie."

Goldie smiled, his namesake shining brightly. "Aye now, flattery be gettin' ye nowhere." He stood up, his knees popping slightly. "Come along, now. Off to th' cap'n wif ye."

The mention of his fate brought Anthony's lightened mood to a screeching halt. Still, he stood up and fell into step behind Goldie, his head held high but his shoulders drooping. They stepped out onto the deck to find it rather silent for a pirate ship - the scuffle Anthony had caused seemed to sober several of the crew. No one turned towards them as they walked, and even those that did adverted their eyes quickly.

"Tony," Goldie whispered, his hand grabbing Anthony's wrist. The inventor paused, looking over at his guide.

Goldie's bright blue eyes met his own, and a chill raced down Anthony's spine. "Th' cap'n can be..." He looked away a moment, as if the word escaped him.

"Scary as hell?" Anthony deadpanned.

"Aye, that," Goldie agreed with a curt nod. "But a good man. 'E's a cap't o' a feared pirate ship, a scoundrel wot gives ev'n Blackbeard nightmares." Anthony wasn't feeling convinced; Goldie grinned quickly, as if he could read Anthony's mind, and stepped a fraction closer. "Me an' me alone saw th' look on 'is face when 'e 'eard o' th' scuffle."

Anthony blinked. "You were the one to get him?"

"Aye," Goldie answered, his eyes hardening. "It needed to end."

The inventor wasn't sure how he should be feeling - angry that Goldie had fetched the captain, or grateful that he wasn't shark chum. "Thank you, Goldie."

The old man's cheery countenance was back and he grinned. "Me pleasure, Tony. Now go - 'is patience, mate."

Anthony looked towards the door to the captain's quarters, a scarce ten feet away. Goldie gave him a slight push and turned away, barking some nonsense at a slacking pirate. Anthony watched him for a moment - perhaps Jack had been wrong about all the pirates. Goldie seemed a kind man.

Taking a deep breath, Anthony raised his chin and stepped towards the door. The hat that had caused all this trouble was still bouncing its feather just in his peripheral sight; Anthony had nearly forgotten all about it below deck. It quickly became a source of comfort, fueling his courage. Jack hadn't shown any fear in the face of this fearsome captain days before, and neither would Anthony. He raised his fist and knocked twice, loud.

There was a pause, and Anthony felt like he could feel every iota of courage flood from his pores when he heard the answer: "Come in."

Anthony held his breath and turned the knob. It took a slight second of adjustment before he could actually see, the room lit by lanterns instead of the bright sun behind him. He lingered in the doorway for a moment, fidgeting with the hem of his tunic. The hardwood floor was covered in a deep maroon rug, possibly Persian, and quite plush beneath Anthony's boots. The glance down caused his eye to catch the bright crimson stain on the breast of his tunic. Oh bollocks, he should have changed his tunic - why didn't Goldie say anything?

"Are you coming in?" The calm voice startled Anthony from his fussing, pulling his eyes from the rug and his stained tunic forward. The captain stood over the table in the centre, covered in what Anthony assumed to be charts or maps. His eyes met the captain's, still such an ethereal shade that Anthony was certain they glowed in the low light. He watched as the captain straightened with a sigh and folded his arms over his chest. "Well?"

Anthony nodded quickly and shut the door behind him. Wonderful - first step in the door and he was already making an enemy. Some of the annoyance seemed to drain from the captain's form after the door was shut. Still, Anthony made no move to step further into his quarters.

The captain ran a hand through his dark hair, pushing back what had fallen forward as he leaned over his parchment. He cocked his hip to the table and rested, his chin tilting up as he regarded Anthony with obvious curiousity. "Why do you linger in my doorway?"

His voice wasn't that of what Anthony believed a pirate captain to have. He sounded the same as he had when he crouched before Anthony what seemed like a year ago on the deck. Not at all the low commanding he barely caught as Goldie led him below deck.

"Frankly," Anthony began, finding his voice. "I'm expecting the worst."

The captain laughed, a surprised sound that startled Anthony. As if it was rarely used. "Oh? And what do you deem to be 'the worst'?"

Anthony waved a hand. "Oh, I don't know - a throwing knife, quick gunshot, perhaps a hanging? Or, better yet, go truly pirate and make me walk the plank - "

The captain laughed again, this sound warmer. He dropped a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound; the action made Anthony smile slightly. He supposed that if he died, he could die knowing that he made a pirate captain laugh a bit.

"Ah," the captain said, crossing his arms again. His poison eyes danced with mirth. "What can be said about you, lad - you can be charming."

"Unfortunately," Anthony said, still feeling a soft grin on his lips despite his nerves. He had been serious, after all.

"Indeed," the captain answered. He pushed away from the table and gestured to the chair closest to Anthony. "Sit, if you would."

Anthony nodded, feeling more than a little relieved that none of his predictions came to light. He stepped further into the room and felt a strange chill - as if he was invading a space not yet open to him. The captain waited until he was sitting before pulling up a chair and joining his 'guest', pausing a moment to roll up his parchments. Anthony watched those too pale hands put the rolls away with far too much finesse. There was absolutely no way this man could be a true pirate, let alone a captain - he was far too cultured.

"Now, about the scene on my deck," the captain said conversationally, as if he wasn't aware of the palpable anxiety Anthony shed. "I am interested in your view."

Anthony cleared his throat. "There was a disagreement."

The captain nodded. "So I gathered," he drawled. "What about?"

The object itself seemed to want to attract the captain's attention; the feather bobbed lightly as Anthony nodded. The captain looked up and frowned. "Surely it isn't because of this?"

Anthony bit his bottom lip; a terrible habit his sister had not been able to rid for him. "Yes."

The captain looked from Anthony's face to the black hat and drooped feather. "Ah, the hat of the quartermaster, Jack Russ. Yes?"

Anthony felt his stomach flip at Jack's name. "Yes," he answered quietly, eyes focusing on a mark in the table that looked suspiciously like a knife indent.

"I see," the captain answered, leaning back. He fixed his gaze on the hat, making Anthony squirm. He would rather die than give what small connection he had to Jack away. It was then that he noticed that the captain's own hat was resting on a perch near the man's bed behind them, his stately overcoat on the hook beneath it. Perhaps he was being rude, to continue to wear the hat while the pirate captain did not. Hats were a social status amongst them, correct? Anthony was certain it had to be - why else would that invalid take Jack's after leaving him unconscious?

He was going to die from not removing his damn hat while he sat at a pirate captain's table. Anthony swallowed and reached his hand up, hoping it wasn't as shaky as he felt.

"You may keep it," the captain said, now resting a finger against his chin thoughtfully. "You fought for it, you may keep it."

Anthony's finger graced the brim before dropping away. "Should I thank you?"

The captain chuckled, a low sound that curled his lip in an accompanying smirk. "If you feel the need."

Anthony shook his head. "You're right - I fought for it." He decided to leave it at that. The captain couldn't say he was deliberately being ungrateful if he didn't actually be ungrateful.

The smirk on the captain's lips turned mischievous, as if he saw clear through all of Anthony's nonsense. Which wouldn't surprise Anthony in the slightest. There was something odd about this man, a strangeness that the inventor couldn't quite place. It was unnerving.

"Will you tell me your name?" the captain asked, his chin still resting on his palm. Anthony furrowed his brow.

"Tony Russ," he answered, his tone ranging on suspicious. The captain sighed and nodded.

"I suppose we will continue this charade, then," he said as he stood. "In any case, it does not stop your punishment for fighting. For all your youth, I am assured that you will survive it."

Anthony felt his stomach sink - what punishment? He certainly hoped it wasn't any of what he named, but he wasn't comforted by that knowledge. Pirates were inventive arseholes.

"You are to be strapped to the main mast for three day's time," the captain said, his tone detached and aloof. He crossed his quarters quickly and pulled open his door. He waved curtly and turned back in, the sunlight framing him against the door and making Anthony squint. "That is, unless you wish to tell me your name?"

Anthony stood up quickly. "Tony Russ is my god-given name."

Two pirates walked in, one carrying rope and the other heading for Anthony. The captain shook his head, his dark hair shaking slightly. "Unfortunately there is no god here, lad. Men, strap him up."

Anthony fought down the urge to struggle, only resisting when one made a go for his hat. The captain stepped in with a low tsk. "He keeps the hat, Mr. Penn."

Anthony blinked and glanced at the captain, surprised. He was smirking slightly, his eyes holding too much amusement at what appeared to be their secret.

The man gruffly nodded, twisting the knot around Anthony's wrists too tight. "Aye, Cap'n Laufey!"

With that call, it seemed that all of Anthony's world crumbled around him. He was on the ship of pirate Captain Laufey. The only knowledge Anthony had of this man was what sailors garbled about after too much drink. Laufey captured ships with abandon, leaving schooners and man o' wars alike burning in his wake. He was a wanted man in nearly every country with a bounty on his head worth more than Anthony's sugar cane plantation. Worse still, no one knew what he looked like because he left no survivors. Except Anthony, and the remaining crew of the Cavalier - but not before taking the eye of her new captain. Undoubtedly, those men were lucky enough to not know his identity, but Anthony had never been very lucky.

Laufey seemed to read through Anthony, to see all of his fears surfacing. His smirk stretched. "I do hope the accommodations are to your liking."

With that, Anthony was pulled away to the burning sun of the deck and Captain Laufey gently closed the door to his quarters.

A/N: We have a name people! :) Please tell me your thoughts!