Chapter 12 : Clear Skies, Stormy Seas

He was left alone in the small locked room. The floor shifted strongly beneath him, making him lose his balance against the wooden wall; it was the fault of the waves. He sat down and leaned back and did not move for a long while, staring at nothing in particular. Even when the ground finally settled he remained sitting there, very still. His fingers ran over something in his pocket—the familiar little necklace, which Lovino had slipped into his hand just before this imprisonment.

There came footsteps at the door; a key rattled in the heavy lock. Then in walked a man with frowning face and dark brown hair. Antonio, with his blurred vision, did not look any further than that.

"Lovino…?"

"He's not here." The voice was hard and expressionless—it wasn't his. And as Antonio's sight cleared enough he realized the face wasn't Lovino's either. It was Feliciano who stood before him, with a look that could be pity in his brown eyes, as if he might understand on the slightest level how Antonio felt. Foolish, useless attempt! There was no more feeling left in the Spaniard's chest than in a wooden doll. It had all gone with the one he would never see again.

"So… we're there now?" Antonio asked after a pause.

"Yes. You're to come with us."

Several men entered behind Feliciano as he spoke, and two of them roughly dragged Antonio to his feet. The now former pirate glanced from one face to another, calm.

"Are you taking me to prison?"

"Yes."

Without another word he followed them outside. Their boots echoed heavily on the wooden floor as they passed other rooms—here was the galley, there the mess hall, so much like those of the Trinidad. And at last they emerged on the deck, where Antonio had a clear view of the sea and the sky.

It was a drastic transformation from a few hours prior. Where the sky had been reddened by fire and rising sun, there only remained a pale blue. All traces of smoke had vanished. The sea behind them was a uniform blanket of azure, lit up here and there by the golden orb which hung high above.

Today was much too beautiful to lose his freedom.

Antonio turned to the Italian men, two of whom were still holding on to him.

"Can't I have one last word with him before I go?"

One of the men shook his head. "Orders are orders. You'll come with us." Well, even if he couldn't—perhaps that was better in the long run.

Again the Spaniard looked around at all of them, as though seeing them for the last time. Each man was unsmiling, each grim and determined in his duty, each turned against him by the word of their younger superior.

"Maybe I will," he said at last. "I will… but not this time."

And before any of them could react, he grabbed onto the railing, boosted himself up, and leaped down into the warm blue sea.

Lovino groaned. His eyelids were heavy, and his entire body was limp with an indescribable fatigue. He wanted nothing more than to sleep—but he couldn't close his eyes, because the pain in his side and that other intangible pain in his chest still lanced through him.

At least, according to the ship's doctor, he could still live… He opened his eyes fully and glanced up at the man hovering worriedly over him.

"Feli?" he whispered. "It's you, right?"

"Sì." His younger brother grasped his hand tightly. It was strange seeing him as serious as this. "How're you feeling?"

"I'm… I'm all right. It doesn't hurt that much anymore." Lovino tried to sit up but suddenly felt as if he were being stabbed again. "Shit—" he gasped before recovering himself, refusing Feliciano's help. "I'm fine. Where's—where's Antonio?"

He didn't see Feliciano's eyes darken at the mention of the name. The younger Italian only shrugged. "He's all right. We found him somewhere to stay, remember?"

"You did? Good…" Lovino muttered, lying back down. "Don't let the stupid asshole hurt himself. I want to see him later…"

"It'll be done. Don't worry."

"Are… are we near Venice yet?"

"I think so. Giorgio told me we're on the city outskirts." Feliciano turned at the sound of frantic knocking, and went to answer the door. As much as he tried, Lovino couldn't see who it was, and he couldn't hear their subdued conversation. His brother quickly returned.

"It's Giorgio. He said he sent someone to hire a gondola. But we'll have to take you into the city by boat first... does it still hurt?"

"No—damn, you're getting more like Nonno every day."

"Someone has to give the orders when you're not around."

"All right then, fratello. You win." Lovino forced himself to sit up. "You're making me feel like a fucking baby all over again."

They lifted him out, with minimal complaints from Lovino, and placed him in the boat. But he didn't want to lie down just yet; he wanted one last view of the sea, one that would last a hell of a long time, because he needed at least that long to get better and return.

"Hurry up, fratello! We have to go!" called Feliciano as he approached.

"I know, but—" Something flashing caught his eye. "Wait—"

A familiar glint of gold. His chest tightened. A strange, bitter, horrible feeling rose in his throat.

"What is it, Lovino?"

He didn't answer. Already he had reached out and caught the necklace in his hand. And his heart plummeted down—down, down.

"Antonio."

"What?"

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ANTONIO!?"

"I didn't—" Feliciano's eyes were wide, but in them Lovino saw more knowledge than innocence. And it chilled him.

"He jumped off," he whispered. "He jumped off and you fucking made him do it. How could you—how could you!?"

His breath was coming in short gasps.

"Fratello, please, calm down—"

"BRING HIM BACK!" Lovino scrabbled at the sides of the boat and hauled himself upright. "He's here somewhere—he's got to be! The water's shallower here—he can't have—ANTONIO!"

"Fratello—"

"Get the fuck away from me," he gasped. "Don't touch me. Don't—" The boat rocked dangerously as he tried to climb up. "Even if you don't, I'm going to find him. I'm going to fucking find him and—and—"

"Lovino, please!"

"Should we?" said one of the men, but Lovino couldn't care who it was. He couldn't leave Antonio alone out there. He had to—

"Ah!"

And then something solid hit his jaw and he was tumbling backward into someone's arms, but all he knew was that it wasn't Antonio, it wasn't Antonio, and the last thought before everything faded to black was that it couldn't be, it couldn't be, it couldn't be.

He'd expected the water to be deathly cold, but surprisingly it wasn't. It parted easily wherever he moved; he felt light as air. How interesting that he'd always been traveling on the seas, without ever being in it and knowing what it was really like.

From here he could tell he was only a short distance from shore. To avoid being shot at he had swum out of sight of the ship—swum as best as he could, anyway.

Antonio went on towards the west side of the shore, where he could see the land was a little higher and mostly deserted. He could rest there for a while; maybe, if he was lucky, someone would come by and help him.

Halfway before he got there, he heard loud voices in the distance—the direction of the ship. But he couldn't see it, and it was death to go back now.

He'd made a decision. Lovino had told him to stay safe. He would. And if he could, if he could—he'd go back and check on him. Just to make sure he was getting better. If Antonio was lucky he might get to see him alone—just maybe...

The ground was hard as he collapsed on it, but he'd never been more grateful to be on land. He was so tired already; all he wanted to do was sleep, sleep away all his pain and sorrow and fear.

But yet again, fate intervened.

"Looks like the dread pirate Antonio survived, hm? I have to commend you on your swimming skills. Really, I never thought I'd see you here."

Quick as a flash Antonio leaped up and stared wildly at the apparition before him. Because it could only be an apparition. There was no way he could have lived through the fires. There was no way.

"You—how—"

"Oh, I have my ways."

"You've come back to haunt me, haven't you, you little—"

"Sure I have. I'm a ghost. Now try explaining this."

And Arthur Kirkland punched him in the face.