HUD: I KNOW! I'm horrible. This is just so distracting! It screams at me all day until I write it down. This has almost become abusive. (I'm not forgetting everything else!)

The usual light blue of the waves turned dark, nearly black. Anthony leaned over the rail of the ship, his sternum pressed against the polished wood. All around him he heard shrieks and howls from wind and mortal alike - still the ship carried on unrelenting and determined.

There was something, somewhere, he needed to be, but it seemed his palms were glued to the supple wood. A quick glance showed the wood stained emerald, and Anthony felt his eyes widen as he watched the paint curl and peel itself away. It moved rapidly towards his hands, but they still would not move.

The paint pulled back wood and nail the more Anthony struggled. Heat flared behind him, and without a glance he knew. Fire. He heard yelling, a distinct voice that he had lost all hope of hearing again.

"Pirates!" Anthony looked sharply toward the voice and saw Jack, standing proud at the helm with cutlass in hand. He raised a pistol over Anthony's head and fired. Smoke billowed around Anthony as if on cue. Jack's shot started it all, and then he was swarmed.

Bodies tumbled behind him as the fire raged. Anthony still pulled and pulled against whatever force kept him in place. The wood and paint and nails crept ever closer, but still he could not move. He called out for Jack desperately, pitching his voice higher and louder than the shrieks behind him.

A hand dropped gently around his wrist, cool and comforting against the fire and death. When Anthony turned to look, however, his blood ran cold.

"What mess have you caught yourself in, I wonder?" Laufey, his teeth sharp and glistening in the fire light and his eyes swimming, shimmering. Anthony couldn't move - he couldn't get to Jack and he couldn't save himself and dammit this demon of a man wouldn't let go -

Anthony woke with a jolt. He gasped, his chest heaving, sucking in as much air as he could. It was damp and salty, but not hot. He blinked, forcing his eyes to adjust to his surroundings.

He couldn't feel the sun on him - in fact, there was hardly any light around at all. Anthony blinked again and rubbed his face, shivering slightly as his duvet fell around him. Wait - duvet?

Again, there was no sun. No wind, either. He wasn't standing, but sitting on what felt incredibly plush after the long hours he spent on his feet strapped to the mast. However, he no longer was.

Finally his eyes adjusted to the lighting to see that he was indeed on his cot. The porthole above it had a rag tied over it, blocking the sun. He could hear the sounds of the crew above on the deck, feet stamping and voices calling and canvas snapping.

Had it all been a dream? The kidnapping, the fight, the hat, the punishment to the mast - was he on the Cavalier? Would Bill be just on the other side of this privacy curtain, humming a shanty and stirring stew with all his belly intact? Would Jack be above, leading the crew and turning the helm and maybe, if Anthony was particularly charming, he could hold the helm again with Jack pressed behind him -

The waking smile brought by his thoughts reminded him that he had never, and would never be, quite that lucky. His lips split harshly from the movement and fresh blood leaked from the cracks. The soreness of his chest and ribs settled in, and his head still throbbed from the hours spent in unrelenting sunlight after taking a brutal beating that spun his world to Cuba and back.

Worse still, he couldn't stop shivering.

Anthony sighed and drew his duvet further up his chest. "Goldie?" He whispered, praying to whatever still cared for him that the old man's hearing wasn't all gone.

Silence answered him, and Anthony sighed. He would try again only once. "Goldie?" His throat allowed a bit more sound. There was silence again as Anthony waited with baited breath, then sighed when he heard footsteps. The curtain rustled for just a moment before Goldie's face popped into view.

"Well ahoy, mate!" He called cheerfully, those gold teeth brighter than ever. The pirate pushed the curtain back further and dragged in a stool. "How ye be farin'?"

Anthony smiled back only to grimace when his lips stretched too far. "Better, I suppose. Goldie, how did I - " Anthony was interrupted by a terrible coughing fit. His ribs and throat only ached more when it finally subsided, forcing him to draw in shallow breathes. "How did I get here?"

Goldie's brow drew together with obvious concern. "Oi, Tony - ye dun' be lookin' good."

Anthony waved a dismissive hand. Not knowing how he came to be freed of the mast was irritating him. "Why am I here?"

Goldie opened his mouth to answer but stopped. After an agonizing moment he seemed to think better of it and crossed his arms over his chest. "I dun' like 'is one bit. Ye look pale, mate. Ev'n wif all the sun ye got."

"It's just heat fever," Anthony said quickly, his tone threatening to show his annoyance. That didn't seem to convince Goldie of his wellbeing - in fact, the pirate's frown deepened. "Goldie - "

"Tony, wait," he held up a hand that made Anthony groan, which caused another coughing fit. Goldie sighed and stood up, leaving Anthony's little alcove and heading for the galley. He was back a moment later with a tin cup and rag. The slight breeze he caused while moving made Anthony shiver again.

Goldie drew his stool up and angled the cup to Anthony's lips. "Drink, lad."

The thought of water felt like finding a fortune - Anthony nodded and licked his dry lips. The cup was empty in only seconds.

The inventor rested back against his pillow, propping himself on his elbows. "Thank you, Goldie. Now how did I..." Anthony yawned, stretching his mouth wide. After the water his lips weren't quite as chapped, but Goldie passed over a gelatinous balm that tasted vaguely sweet.

"Plenty o' time fer talkin' later, Tony," Goldie said quietly. He was smiling softly, but Anthony could still see the traces of worry in his expression.

"Goldie...what?" He managed, slurring his words and dropping back heavily on his cot. "I don't...understand..."

"Git some rest, mate." Goldie's voice drifted further and further away. Anthony blinked, his mind feeling foggy as his body sank further and further into his cot. A warmth settled over his forehead - Goldie's rag, his mind supplied.

Anthony lazily felt like there was more than just water in that cup.

Goldie left the rag on Tony's face as he slept, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Aye, mate. Ye be fine soon enuff. Jus' need a word wif th' cap'n."

The old man rose, popping his back and knees with a sigh. He was getting far too old for the sea life, but oh did he love it. It took him far across the world to see new sights and lives and people. He had met some interesting folk on his journey, one of the better being the young man sleeping on the cot behind him.

Young Tony reminded him of his nephew, the child of his late sister. He was smart and scrappy and the sort that never stopped fighting for what he felt was right. Goldie knew there was something special about the genius (obviously, he was nothing less) when Gibbs dropped him down the hole. It took the better part of a few days to hear that voice, but he knew immediately what Tony was capable of. Goldie was doing him a favour - one Tony wasn't yet aware of, but Goldie was keeping to himself about it.

Goldie felt remorse for having to drug the drink Tony had, but he needed the rest. His night had been fitful; Goldie listened to his tossing and wheezing, never moving from his perch outside the curtain. Captain's orders. Now, he needed to make his report.

Goldie slid the curtain close and hobbled up the stairs to the deck, taking each step slowly. He inhaled deeply once the wind hit his face, smiling. Beautiful days like these kept him here, meeting people like Tony and Captain.

He scanned the deck looking for Laufey. Grim and Gibbs were huddled together near the portside cannons, attempting to appear busy instead of actually working. Goldie snorted - if they weren't downright dog shite, he'd demand they thank Tony for falling ill and ending their punishment early. The Captain, Goldie knew, wasn't pleased by their actions. Goldie agreed.

Not seeing Laufey, Goldie started for his quarters. He smiled and nodded at the younger crew when they grinned at him. A few stopped him to ask about Tony, surprising the old man. Pirates followed strength and riches - Tony must have proved himself quite well with his skirmish days before. Goldie answered vaguely and continued on.

"Oi, Goldie!" The old man stopped and turned, looking for his caller. "Up 'ere, old man!"

Goldie growled and looked towards the helm. "Wot, Penn?"

The blond pirate grinned. "Who're ye lookin' for?"

"Th' Cap't!" He hollered, started for the stairs to the helm. "'E up thar?"

"Aye!" Penn called back. He pointed pass Goldie and towards the main mast. "Higher up, the likes!"

"Crow's nest?" Penn nodded, making Goldie grumble. "Git 'im, would ye?"

Penn tossed back his head and laughed, a loud and rich sound. "Aye, mate!" Goldie settled against a crate as Penn swung onto the nearest knot of rigging. He climbed higher and higher until Goldie couldn't see him anymore. So he waited.

A minute later, Captain Laufey dropped down from the nest using one of the many pulley systems he had installed for just that reason of ease of movement. The higher the better, it seemed - Laufey sat up there when he was troubled. Only Goldie knew the true nature of his climbs from all his years of service. The captain was without hat nor overcoat, standing without decoration. The descent whipped his long black hair around his shoulders, making Goldie tsk.

"Ye should start pullin' that back, Cap'n," he started as Laufey walked towards him. "Might be mistaken for a lass."

Laufey smirked, pushing a hand through his locks and shaking out a knot. "I shall take it to heart, Goldie."

Goldie shrugged but smiled fondly. "Do as ye like, I s'pose."

"I shall," Laufey answered. There was no trace of whatever bothered the captain on his face, but Goldie believed he could guess. He rested his hands on his hips and tilted his chin in contemplation. "Why have you summoned me?"

Goldie's soft smile dipped. "He's as ye said."

Laufey's smirk fell away, his light humour gone. "We shall speak in my quarters."

Goldie nodded and paused for Laufey to lead. Penn dropped back down as they reached his door and saluted. Goldie nodded his thanks before slipping into the quarters himself.

Laufey sat down and kicked a chair over for Goldie. "Explain."

Goldie sat down with a sigh. "'E didn't rest well. Murmured and tossed all night, woke up like th' dead. Paler 'an ye, act'lly. Can't stop coughin'."

Laufey steepled his fingers in front of his face. "What do you suggest?"

Goldie sighed again. "Well, I drugged 'im."

Laufey snorted and quirked a smile. "Excellent direction."

"Oi, Cap'n," Goldie defended, feeling his neck flush. "Would ye 'ave dun diff'rent?"

The captain didn't hesitate. "No."

The older pirate huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "A'ight, then!"

Laufey smirked and nodded gracefully. "I always trust your judgement, Goldie."

Goldie nodded and smiled. "Good. Now, 'bout our ward."

"It appears he has suffered heat fever," Laufey answered.

"'E said 'at, but me thinks there be more t' it."

"Perhaps I should have allowed him reprieve to relax; no doubt the blows to his head have yet to heal." Laufey tapped his chin. "Come - I want to see his state for myself."

Goldie rose and followed his captain to the deck and then below, pulling the curtain aside to allow Laufey into Tony's cramped space. Somehow, when it was just he and Tony, the room seemed nearly homely. With Laufey's strong presence and height dominating the alcove, Goldie was surprised that the lad didn't wake with a start.

His brown hair stuck up at odd angles from his fitful sleep, the duvet down near his waist and his tunic pulled over his ribs. There was light bruising from the ropes that infuriated Goldie immediately. "Wot idiot tied th' rope?"

"Mr. Crass and Mr. Tenny," Laufey answered. The rag Goldie left over Tony's face had fallen to the side. Laufey carefully replaced it over his eyes; Tony sighed. "I shall speak with them."

Goldie nodded as he watched Laufey move. Silently the captain replaced the genius' tunic and duvet, lightly grazing his fingertips over Tony's chin as he finished. "He is in need of a shave," Laufey observed. "Perhaps time on land would do him some good."

Goldie nodded. "Aye. Wot d' ye 'ave in mind?"

Heat fever, Anthony decided, played some peculiar games on one's subconscious. He drifted in and out of consciousness over several hours, catching bits and pieces of conversation and surrounding.

He spent most of his time either too hot or too cold, and at one particular moment tossed his duvet aside with a huff. Anthony drifted away again, not caring that the rag Goldie had left him slid down.

Anthony stirred slightly upon hearing voices. They were low but recognizable, and soothing. The murmurs grew until he vaguely heard his curtain being pulled aside. The voices were louder now, and Anthony identified Goldie immediately after the rag over his eyes had been replaced. The touch was soothing and made him sigh.

A second voice answered, one low and gentle. Anthony's ears felt clogged - he worked his throat to rid the pressure as more touches ghosted over his skin. The duvet was back to his chin; a lingering touch trailed there, just a moment long enough that Anthony could identify the speaker.

"He is in need of a shave." Laufey. "Perhaps time on land would do him some good."

"Aye. Wot d' ye 'ave in mind?"

Anthony unintentionally shivered when Laufey pulled away. "A hunt, of sorts."

Goldie groaned. "Ye dun' mean Cuba?"

"Aye." There was a soft rustling as a weight settled on the edge of Anthony's cot. Even as his head spun he was alert enough to dare not move.

"Cap'n," Goldie said sternly. "Need I remind ye o' th' last voyage to Cuba? Why, I'd be bettin' the rest 'o me good teeth thar still be parchment wif yer face scrawled ov'r it."

"Aye," Laufey answered. The weight on the edge of Anthony's cot shifted enough for Anthony to loll his head on his pillow. Squinting, he looked down the space between cheek and nose to find Laufey partially reclined across his cot, as a cat would. Indifferent dominance. The captain certainly had some gall; Anthony felt a headache coming on from his squinting. "I would as well, were we betting men."

"Aye."

"However, there is a shop - "

"Oh lord."

"Goldie," Laufey said, his tone hardening. He sat up and out of Anthony's view. "We both are aware of the stock of medicinals aboard Sleipnir. There are herbs I can procure that will cure his ailments."

"Aye, aye," the old pirate groused. There was a weighted pause that lasted long enough for Anthony to slightly doze off. "Loki, is it worth th' risk?"

"Perhaps not," the captain answered, his tone softening. Anthony felt eyes on him and forced himself not to squirm, alert again from hearing the captain's name. Loki. "But perhaps so. I was hopeless, once."

Goldie chuckled, warm and deep. "Aye, I recall. Dread Pirate Cap'n Laufey, still as darin' and reckless as ev'r. Ye best not git yerself killed, mate."

Loki chuckled. "Fear for the fool who tries, not I." He stood up from Anthony's cot, his proximity having become a comfort that perplexed the genius. "Stay with him until he wakes. I shall make the preparations for departure."

"Aye," Goldie answered. Anthony's curtain fluttered behind the captain as he left. Goldie pulled his stool up again and settled in.

"See, lad?" The pirate said; Anthony wasn't sure if he should answer. "Told ye 'e 'ad yer back."

Anthony didn't answer out of confusion - he doubted his sleeping act had fooled Goldie let alone the captain. Goldie began to hum a shanty that Anthony was particularly fond of, and before long even his racing thoughts of the captain couldn't keep him from slumber.

A/N: SHARE WITH ME YOUR THOUGHTS. There's a handy-dandy text box below. :)