My stomach flipped again as another scream pierced the air. It's been hours since the door to Arthur's room closed behind the pirate, Alfred, and Cook. Apparently, Cook had some kind of medical training in the past, so he was our best bet to save Alfred. It wasn't like foot injuries were particularly fatal, but a gunshot wound was still a gunshot wound.

I cringed as another wail rang in my ears. It took all of my self control to not burst into the room and beg Cook to stop whatever horrible torture he was doing. Actually, I was told not to go in. Part of me wanted to be defiant, but part of me knew I would probably just get in the way. I had been completely helpless when the pirates had carried Alfred back onto the ship. He was flailing around so much that it took one man to just hold his arms while two more carried him.

"Wait here," Arthur had said as the door closed behind him.

Christov had been one of the men carrying the injured boy, but had come back out not long after the door closed. He sat next to me on a crate as we waited for something to happen.

"Don't worry yerself, lass. Cook knows what 'e's doin'."

I looked over at Christov in surprise. "What?"

"Yer shakin' harder 'n a leaf in a cold wint'r breeze. There's no need t' fret. 'Ave a bit o' faith in Cook."

"Sorry," I mumbled as I tried to control my trembling. "It's just that I've never known anyone that's gotten hurt so badly before."

The first mate raised an eyebrow. "Never?"

"No," I said with a shake of my head. "Whenever a member of the Guard comes back injured, they just go to the Healers and they're good as new." Unless they're dead, but I decided against saying that.

"Are yer folk good with that sorta thing?"

"Yes, very. There's almost nothing they can't heal."

"Do ya thing ye can..." He nodded toward the door.

I sighed in dismay. "I never learned. I'm not old enough to pick a vocation yet, so I never learned to fight, or heal, or anything." I rubbed away the tears forming in my eyes. "What I wouldn't give to be a hundred and fifty."

Christov's eyes bugged at the number, but he didn't say any more about it. "Ah get t' thinkin' that that boy is gonna be jus' fine, even without yer magic."

"I hope so."

"Jus' take a look 'ere." The brawny pirate tugged down on his shirt collar to expose a long pink scar that spanned his entire chest. "Got meself cut up real good once in a scuffle with some right nasty bandits. Didn't think the blood'd ever stop gushin' out." I blanched at the thought. "But Cook patched me up real good. Ain't ever had a problem with it since. That man don't know 'ow t' make a decent bowl o' soup, but he sure knows 'ow t' fix up a ding er two."

"I hope you're right." My stomach was still doing flips, but I still managed to give Christov a small smile.

The Captain cursed his situation over and over again. He really only had himself to blame though since this whole situation was his fault. Arthur didn't want to think of it that way. He much preferred to think of what kind of punishment he could give Alfred for bleeding all over his bed. Maybe one that involved doing all of the Captain's laundry for five or six weeks.

"Can you stop getting blood all over the place?" Arthur growled as he held the injured boy's shoulders down.

"Maybe there wouldn' be such a mess if you'd hold him down properly, hm?"

"Tch." Arthur grit his teeth as he fought another attempt by Alfred to sit up. What the little whelp planned on doing once he was up, the Captain didn't know.

"Make it stop!" Alfred wailed. He had been repeating himself for over an hour. "Make it stop."

"It would go faster if you just held still," Arthur said through clenched teeth. The only response he got was another scream and flailing limbs. "Watch it!" the Captain yelled as he dodged a hand. "What's taking so bloody long?"

"The bullet didn' leave his foot," Cook replied. "I has ta dig it out, but it's shattered some bone making it hard ta find." He adjusted a pair of spectacles perched on his nose, which left behind a red smudge. "I'm about ta try again. Do you have him?"

"The best I can," Arthur grumbled. He was practically on top of the moaning boy. "Ready when you are."

"Gosh, this hurts," Alfred mumbled. He occasionally seemed to pull out of his pain induced stupor and speak with unusual clarity. "Think you could ease up a bit, Big Bro? Your elbows are killing me."

"What did you just-"

"Here I go!"

Arthur cursed his moment of laxity. Alfred shrieked and writhed under his grip at the same time the Captain pulled out of his shock. It took all of his strength to keep the boy from throwing him off, but somehow Arthur clung on. Where was the brat getting all this strength?

"You need ta hold him still!" Cook said with urgency. "I can' look for the bullet with him squirming like this!"

"I'm...trying," Arthur grunted out.

"We should sedate him. Do you has any rum, or whiskey maybe?"

"No...I have something better!" The Captain braced himself before lifting an arm up long enough to give Alfred a swift punch to the jaw. He stopped moving after that.

"Not exactly what I had in mind, but I guess it'll do," Cook mumbled. He immediately went back to work.

Arthur stood up and watched the man search for the bullet. The Captain was breathing harder than he thought he should have, and he wiped some sweat off his brow. Something sticky clung to his face, and he glanced down at his hands to see them streaked with blood. Arthur wasn't squeamish when it came to blood, but something Alfred had said in his moment of clarity made his stomach clench.

Guilt also gnawed at his stomach, which was not a feeling he was used to. It was his carelessness that had put Alfred in this situation in the first place. How could he forget to disarm his gun before putting it back in his jacket? Arthur wasn't one for openly showing how he was feeling, but he definitely felt awful about how the day had gone. Especially when he looked at the bruise beginning to form on Alfred's face.

"There! I got it!"

The Captain turned to see Cook holding up something small and round between a pair of tweezers. He cleaned it off with the least bloody part of a soiled rag and held it back up to the light.

"Would you like ta keep it, Captain? A souvenir for all your trouble?"

Arthur knew he was joking, but the pirate wasn't in a particularly amiable mood. "No. Just get rid of it."

"Where are you going?"

"Out," Arthur answered as he walked to the door. Exhaustion seemed to hit him like an enormous wave, and he had to get away from the bloody mess behind him as soon as possible.

He nearly ran into the mermaid as he exited his private quarters. "How's Alfred? Is he okay?" she asked almost desperately.

"He's fine." Arthur could hardly mask the fatigue in his voice. "You can see him once Cook is done patching him up."

"I'm glad." The Captain look at her in surprise. She was smiling peacefully as she wiped away some moisture in her eyes. "Thank you."

"Looks like ye had quite the battle," Christov chimed in as he stood from his crate.

"I suppose you can say that." Arthur watched as the last of the sun dipped below the watery horizon. "Gather the crew, will you Christov. We need to make up for lost time."

"Aye, Cap'n. Is there anything else you need?"

"No...no. I just need to clean up a bit."

The first mate nodded in understanding before leaving to rally the crew. Arthur felt about ready to collapse and decided to get moving before his body actually did.

"Do you want help?"

He looked up to see the mermaid watching him intently. "I think I'll be fine on my own," he answered. "Just wait for Cook to finish. I'm sure the brat will want to see you when he wakes up."

The Captain didn't wait for her to reply. He left to satisfy the steadily increasing need to wash the blood from his hands.

Alfred still wasn't awake by the time Arthur returned. The pirate slipped into the room quietly and stood next to my chair facing the bed. He seemed to be eyeing the suspicious looking welt on Alfred's face, and I wondered if he had been the cause of it. Now wasn't really the time to ask though. I was about to speak, but he beat me to it.

"He called me his 'Big Bro'."

"W-what?"

Arthur turned his tired gaze toward me. "You know something, don't you?"

"Well, I...yes." There wasn't any point in hiding it. "I heard your half of the story and Alfred's, so I think I know what happened."

"And?" he prompted.

"I'll tell you it you tell me why you've been avoiding me."

That took him by surprise. "Who said I was-"

"You can drop the act, Arthur."

He swore. "You're sharper than I gave you credit for..." he mumbled under his breath. "Well, since you have Alfred here I didn't think you would want me around."

I didn't know what to think about that. "What are you talking about?"

"I saw you two talking before we arrived in Okonfo, if you can call what I saw talking." Arthur's eyes darkened as if recalling something unpleasant.

"You saw that?" My face heated up in embarrassment. It was bad enough that it happened, but on top of that Arthur saw it too. I was on the brink between anger and hysterics. "So what? You just gave up? You didn't even try?"

"It's not like you were fending him off."

His cold words cut into my heart. "Unlike you, I didn't quite have a choice in the matter," I said with plenty of ice into my voice.

Arthur didn't seem to appreciate the comment much, and one of his eyebrows twitched in irritation. "Well, at least I'm not being an annoying brat."

I stood from my chair quivering with rage. "At least I'm not an arrogant fool who keeps a primed and loaded gun in his pocket!"

"At least I'm not dumb enough to get caught in a fish net!"

"At least I'm not so full of myself that I wear frilly shirts and a gazillion rings!"

"At least I don't need magic to get out of a tight spot!"

"At least I don't have eyebrows like yours!"

I regretted it as soon as the words came out of my mouth. Arthur's face phased through three shades of red, and I swore that steam was pouring out of his ears. He clenched his fists tightly, but didn't say a word. I wished he would because having him yell at me was infinitely better than the tense silence in the room.

"At least neither of you have a hole in your foot..."

Alfred's weak voice broke the oppressive silence and lowered the hostilities in the room. I had been so caught up in the argument that I forgot he was even there.

"How are you feeling?" I asked as I turned to face him.

"Sore," he answered as he rubbed his bruised face. "Did...did somebody punch me in the face? Dang that hurts."

"How's your foot?"

"Worse than my face." He grimaced. "It's like someone stuck a knife in it and keeps twisting it around. Not a great feeling." He yawned, and I almost did too. "I'm totally wiped. Mind if I take a snooze?"

"Of course not," I told him with a weak smile.

"Cool. And keep it down you two." He smirked playfully before closing his eyes. It only took him a few minutes to doze off again.

I sat back down in my chair directly across from him and watched his chest rise and fall at a steady rate. To me it seemed like a miracle that Cook was able to patch him up. I was so caught up worrying about Alfred that I almost didn't notice when Arthur started talking.

"Tell me what you found out," he said softly.

I glanced behind me to see him back to normal, if not a bit more tired than before. It took me a moment to recall what we had been talking about "Okay, you told me your mom left, right? And that she left you behind?" He nodded. "Well, according to Alfred, she regretted not taking you with her."

"What?" Arthur's green eyes were suddenly wide and alert.

"Apparently she always talked about her 'darling Arthur', as Alfred put it. She wanted to take you with her, but she couldn't for some reason."

My words were met with silence. He looked away an didn't speak for a long time. When he did finally say something, his voice was low and unsteady. "So what does that leave me with? Vague memories and an idiot for a brother?"

"Hey...not nice to talk about people when they're sleeping." Alfred opened his eyes and smiled.

"It's also not nice to eavesdrop," I scolded.

"It's not really eavesdropping if you're doing it right in front of me."

The two of us laughed softly, although Alfred winced afterward. He smiled again before shifting his gaze toward Arthur. "Mom never forgot about you for a second. Even when she got sick, she still prayed every night that her darling Arthur was somewhere safe." He closed his eyes. "She was always so sorry, and I never understood why."

"Alfred..." I looked between the two unsure of what to say.

"I'll bet she's glad I found you." He opened his eyes and grinned in the way only he could. "Don't you think, Big Bro?"

"Don't...call me that," Arthur said as he took a step away from the bed. He quickly turned and exited the room.

"Just let him go for now," Alfred said to me before I could go after the pirate. "It would suck if he said something stupid to upset you."

"But..." I could feel the turmoil in Arthur's heart within my own, and I didn't want to leave him alone.

"Wait a few minutes before you look for him, okay?"

I looked at Alfred in surprise. "You're fine with me leaving?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I can't stop you with my foot like this," he joked. "Besides, I know nothing I could say would convince you anyway. You've got it bad for him."

"I...what?" My face flushed.

"Stop pretending, (y/n)." Alfred sighed, but smiled soon after. "I can't compete with him, but if anything happens." He lifted up his injured foot. "I'll be sure to return the favor."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. "Okay."