"Commodore?"

The new captain of the Tigress – Troy, Steve was fairly certain that was his name – blinked for a solid twenty seconds before squaring his shoulders importantly. As Steve made his way back to the crowded dock and the team of officers surrounding the Tigress, he caught a number of puzzled stares. But Captain Troy was the first to address him.

"Commodore, what brings you back to the dock? Have the orders changed?"

Steve had to hand it to the young captain. He recovered smoothly at the unexpected re-emergence of a superior officer. Especially one that wore the stormy expression Steve did at that moment.

"The orders are the same, Captain, though I question why you still remain here to discuss them," Steve said snidely. "The Governor demanded that we make haste with this launch, and I conveyed the necessity of urgency with this mission, did I not?"

"You did, sir," Troy said, brow furrowing. "But you understand the protocols. We still need to check the rigging, the rations, the artillery—"

"Do you require more manpower?" Steve asked seriously.

"The crew is sufficient, Commodore."

"Yet I turn my attention to the dockyard more than an hour after leaving you to find you still ashore. This is unacceptable. Are you not up for this mission, Captain?"

"I am up for it, I assure you, sir," Troy said, taking pains not to stammer in his nerves.

"Then delay no further. If my presence is required on this dock to ensure you and your crew work as diligently as needed, so be it. I trust you can handle the open sea with the required swiftness?"

"Aye, sir," the captain nodded, and without further ado, he snapped orders at the nearest officer, who spread the command down the line of sailors.

Steve wasn't surprised that Tommy soon materialized at his side. The captain looked displeased that the lieutenant, a rank under him, saw fit to speak to the commodore, but Troy was too busy to object and opted to leave them alone.

"This is unnecessary, Steve," Tommy cautioned in a low voice meant only for Steve's ears.

"I wish that was the case," Steve replied tersely. "I wish the entire rescue mission was unnecessary, yet here we are."

"You're compromised here," Tommy said in what he probably thought was a soothing tone. Instead, it was nothing short of patronizing. "You cannot see this mission with a clear head. I cannot stop you from muscling your way onto the ship, I know that. But I beg of you to let your men do their jobs. There's work to be done here in Hawkins."

"Tommy," Steve said darkly. "I know you mean well, but if you ever try to tell me how to do my job again, I will personally see to it that you never see another promotion in this lifetime."

It was harsh. Too harsh toward this man who shared his ambitions with Steve in confidence. This man that Steve considered a friend. The daggered words might have severed something irreparably between them. But Steve trained his eyes to the Tigress, all but ready for open water now, and paid the waves of fury pouring from Tommy Hagan no mind.

And then the shouting started. Steve frowned in confusion and squinted further down the dock where a light boat drifted their way. He withdrew his spyglass and peered through it to see a distressed officer waving his hands and pointing behind them. So Steve lifted his gaze to where the Labrador loomed and... was moving, heading out to sea.

"Is that…? This must be a joke," Tommy muttered beside him as he looked through his own spyglass. Because not only was the Labrador making an unscheduled launch, but the unmistakable dark hair and wild movements of Eddie Munson zipped across her deck, pointing and shouting and tugging at rigging. Mike, Jane, and Dustin hastened to obey whatever instructions he gave, and Jonathan manned the wheel, guiding the giant ship clumsily toward the mouth of the harbor.

"Eddie Munson's an even greater idiot than we imagined," Tommy mused with a chuckle. His anger with Steve had evaporated with the opportunity to heap disdain upon a lesser party.

"There are children aboard," Steve said seriously. Where apprehending criminals was a major task for the navy, their primary purpose must be to protect innocents. And any naval man worth his salt would consider rescuing endangered children such a priority. "Captain, there are children aboard! After them!"

"I—" The young captain opened and closed his mouth a few times, overwhelmed with the stress Steve had previously thrust upon his shoulders along with the chaos of the Labrador's theft.

"Now, Troy!" Steve pressed, and Tommy muttered something unsavory about the hapless captain under his breath before boarding the Tigress to start the retrieval mission of the Labrador.

The sound of his name snapped the captain into action, and he aimed a pleading look at Steve. "Commodore, will you lead the crew on the Tigress? This should be… well, a milk run. And I dare not delay the primary objective any further with this distraction."

Steve nodded gravely. "I will. And I admire your commitment to your responsibilities."

And with that, Steve found himself aboard the Tigress, manning the helm, just as he intended. The swift ship caught up to the heavy Labrador in no time. The officers hardly needed Steve's instruction as they sidled up to the boat's starboard side and laid planks between the two decks to board His Majesty's wayward ship, Tommy included. And Steve was, at last, alone on the Tigress.

From his position at the stern, he watched the seamen storm their way to the opposite helm, but no one was there at the Labrador's wheel. Instead, far from them at the ship's bow, a lithe figure swung easily on a thick cord of rope dropping onto the now empty deck of the Tigress.

Steve stayed quiet, facing the flummoxed, frustrated mass of his soldiers now spreading out on the Labrador to find the thieves. But he kept one eye trained toward the Tigress's bow, where Jonathan took his turn launching himself on the rigging to land inelegantly on the deck. He sent the rope back and wordlessly coached the kids to cross to the Tigress as well. And the creeping shadow that was Eddie Munson inched silently across the length of the ship toward Steve.

No one aboard the Labrador paid any attention to Steve, but he still ignored the dark shape in front of him until their party was safely aboard and had kicked away the boards connecting the two ships, letting the planks splash uselessly into the sea and trapping all of the navy men on the massive man of war. Jonathan said something to the kids, who all dispersed to the rigging that controlled the sails, and Jonathan made his way toward Steve and the helm.

Then it was time. Steve faced Eddie Munson, who was watching Steve with patient curiosity only a few yards away.

"You!" Steve declared loudly with as much outrage as he could muster.

"Me," Eddie agreed with a nod.

Someone shouted on the other ship. They'd caught the sailors' attention at last. They knew they'd been tricked and were stuck on the wrong ship. Steve didn't let his eyes wander from Eddie's as he withdrew his sword from his scabbard, ready to deliver the greatest performance of a fake duel the Caribbean had ever known.

But Eddie only smirked and pulled his pistol from his belt, aiming at Steve's chest. Steve's shoulders slumped.

"Boring," Steve almost pouted.

Eddie's eyebrows raised. "The things I'd do to you if I had the time, Harrington. Boring. I'll show you boring. Drop the blade, hands up, turn around. Slowly."

Steve obeyed with a scoff, letting his sword clatter against the deck planks, raising his hands to shoulder height, and taking smooth steps to show Eddie his back.

"You have time for 'slowly' though?" Steve muttered.

Eddie hummed, the sound nearer than Steve expected, making him shiver. One hand snatched Steve's wrist, thrusting it down toward the small of his back. Then the other one joined it, and the scratch of rough rope scraped against the skin there, binding his hands behind him.

"This?" Eddie breathed beside Steve's ear. "A commodore's surrender at my fingertips? This I'll relish."

He shoved at Steve's back so that he stumbled a few steps forward. Then Eddie's ringed hand fell more gently on Steve's shoulder, steering him down the small stairs toward the mainmast. Jonathan scurried past them to take hold of the wheel, and soon Steve felt the Tigress lurch beneath his feet, setting course in earnest out of the harbor now.

The sailors aboard the Labrador kept shouting, and Steve felt a twinge of guilt as Tommy's voice rang out loudest. But the Tigress was on her way out to the open water, and the weight of the Labrador could never catch them. Or she wouldn't as long as they…

"Adjust the sails starboard," Steve said in a near whisper. "Catch the wind better."

They'd reached the mast, and Eddie spun Steve so that they were face-to-face. Eddie frowned deeply and pushed Steve back into the solid wood. Steve let out a grunt as his bound wrists slammed into the mast.

"I know how to run a damn ship, Commodore," Eddie grumbled.

Steve stayed put as Eddie gathered more rope, and he even managed to swallow a satisfied smirk when Eddie shouted over his shoulder.

"Henderson, adjust the sails starboard." There was a pregnant pause, and then Eddie rolled his eyes. "To the right."

"Got it!" Dustin's high voice chirped back.

Eddie sighed heavily and muttered under his breath. "Got it, Captain."

He looped the rope around the mast and Steve, securing him in place. He left wiggle room, Steve realized gratefully, that ensured his hands weren't crushed between his body and wood behind him. Although it was too late to avoid the splinter he could feel lodged in his knuckle.

Eddie finished knotting the rope with a satisfied hum and rounded the mast to examine his handiwork – a loosely bound naval commodore. Somehow, he'd retrieved Steve's discarded sword, and he wielded it casually in one hand.

The familiar hilt enveloped by pale, silver-ringed fingers sent an odd twinge through Steve's stomach. Or maybe that was the harsh yank at the rudders beneath the ship that signaled another ill-delivered turn at the helm from Jonathan.

Eddie hummed again, ponderously. And Steve knew it was fake, knew that Eddie just wanted to ensure the bondage looked real enough to anyone aboard the Labrador watching their escape through a spyglass. But he felt exposed, even while buried under cords of rope – a sculpture on display for the pirate's sole amusement. And something deep in Steve's core desperately desired for Eddie to approve of what he saw.

Then Eddie held Steve's sword aloft and swatted above Steve's head with the blade's broad side. Steve winced as his hat and wig knocked away with that single swipe. And Eddie's eyes traced his face anew.

"There you are," Eddie said softly.

With his mussed hair loose in the breeze, with Eddie's weighted gaze upon him, with his body trapped against the mast, Steve felt a strange buzzing under his skin. That aching vulnerability cracked even deeper into Steve's ribcage, unleashing a wretched sort of longing that shoved a ragged breath out of his lungs. What that desire meant, though, Steve couldn't begin to understand.

But Eddie heard his gasp, and his already dark eyes deepened to a near-black. The scant space between them felt thick, like Eddie would need Steve's blade to hack his way through to him, if he should want to draw nearer to Steve. And was that… something Steve wanted?

"Eddie, is this rope supposed to be loose like this?" Dustin mused from somewhere on the port side of the ship.

At the speed and direction the ship was headed, Steve didn't need to break this heavy eye contact to guess that no, whatever line Dustin referred to was not meant to be loose.

Eddie shut his eyes and let out a sharp exhale through his nose. "This kid," he grumbled. Then his eyes snapped open again, and he smirked at Steve. "Don't go anywhere."

As Eddie whirled around to secure the rigging properly, Steve didn't think he was capable of straying far from the man, even if he weren't tied to the mast of a ship that just reached the open sea beyond the Hawkins harbor.

…

Once the Labrador was out of sight, and Steve could only make out the shore of Hawkins if he squinted, Jonathan approached him and untied Eddie's knots with a scowl. His mouth was downturned so frequently, though, that Steve wasn't sure if he was actually displeased or if his face just… looked like that.

"Munson's letting us in on our heading," Jonathan said stiffly. "He's being dodgy about it, won't leave the helm."

"A dodgy pirate?" Steve couldn't stop himself from remarking drily. He rubbed a soothing thumb at the raw skin of his newly freed wrist. "I never thought I'd see the day."

The look Jonathan aimed at him was definitely a scowl that time. And neither of them spoke again until they gathered at the stern with Mike, Jane, Dustin, and Eddie. The pirate eyed them all carefully, and Steve ignored the fluttering in his stomach that erupted when that deep gaze landed on him. Then Eddie revealed with dramatic gravitas: "The Hellfire will sail to Isla de Muerta."

The kids didn't react, but Jonathan frowned deeply. Either he'd heard of the island or used his context clues to determine that based on its name, this was a horrible place to go. But Steve was frowning too, for a different reason.

"I knew this would be a waste of time," Steve sighed. "Where are we heading, really?"

Eddie crossed his arms and stuck his chin out defiantly. "I'm not lying."

"It's a good story, Munson," Steve continued. "A fictional ship making berth at a fictional island. I'll be sure to tell it to my future children when I tuck them into bed. But we need an actual heading. To rescue actual people. I thought we were ignoring my military title and your criminal status for the sake of this joint venture. You need to be honest with me here if we're going to pull this off."

"The Hellfire is a real ship," Eddie sneered. "She's my ship. Snatched out from under my nose. Now, I know the bastard who did it. I know where he's fucking heading. Maybe you don't trust that I care about rescuing those girls. But you can trust that I want my goddamn ship back. So we're going to that damn ship."

"We believe you, Eddie," Mike cut in, shooting a glare toward Steve.

"Who is the bastard who did it?" Jane asked gravely. And the swear coming from her sweet but serious voice had Steve choking back a laugh.

Eddie sighed grievously before responding. "Billy Hargrove. My usual crew needed to take some personal time, so I hired some floaters to help me man the Hellfire while I looked into… a side project. Billy stepped up as first mate. And in less than a fortnight, he orchestrated a mutiny. Left me for dead and has been mascarading as a captain ever since. I'd be impressed if he hadn't done it to me."

And Steve… believed him. He believed Eddie lost his ship and sought to get it back. He referred to it as the Hellfire, the infamous, ink-black pirate ship rumored to be summoned from the depths of hell itself. Steve doubted such a legendary ship existed, but if it was Eddie's boat they were chasing, he was willing to accept the tale. But this only addressed part of Eddie's claim.

"We're seeking your demon ship then, fine," Steve conceded. "But Isla de Muerta… let's say for the sake of argument that's a real place. The stories place it off the coast of Costa Rica. You've had us pointed northeast toward Haiti for the last hour. Aren't we going the wrong way?"

"Oh, Harrington, you darling compass of a man," Eddie said, a smile creeping across his cheeks. "You are, in fact, correct about the location of the island. But we're not going there yet."

Steve bristled, but Jonathan snapped before Steve could respond. "We don't have time for your games, Munson."

He tried to sidestep Eddie to reach for the wheel, but Eddie held Jonathan firmly by the bicep to keep him in place.

"What was your plan?" Eddie challenged. "Blindly sail south, hoping you'd stumble upon a blip of an island and pray it was the right one? I'll take you to Isla de Muerta. We just need to make a stop first. No offense, but we won't last long with Harrington and me as the only experienced sailors aboard this ship, as gorgeous and swift as she is. We're off to get a real crew."

Even if Eddie had a point, it didn't stop the sinking dread from pooling in Steve's gut. Because Steve knew just where a pirate could find a crew on short notice off the coast of Haiti.

"No, Munson," Steve objected.

"Yes, Munson," Eddie grinned.

"We're not bringing more pirates into this," Steve argued. "Especially not a random ensemble scavenged from the likes of Tortuga."

"We could tie Steve to the mast again," Mike said with a hopeful look toward Eddie.

Steve pulled a face. "I'd fight back this time. So you can bloody well try."

Eddie made an interested hum, but Jonathan wrested his arm from Eddie and spoke first. "What is Tortuga?"

"A pirate's port," Steve explained. "On French land, so the Royal Navy can't do anything about it without France taking it as an act of war from England."

"You could call it a pirate safe haven," Eddie added with a loaded glance at Steve that he hardly knew how to interpret.

"You could call it a terrible idea to go there," Steve replied with a scoff.

"For you, maybe," Eddie nodded, and his lip curled unhappily. "They'd eat you alive, Commodore."

"Honestly, we could probably do with some help from hands that have done more than wash dishes," Dustin said, holding up two palms that looked red and sore from handling rough rope all morning. "Jane's powers are useful, but she can't do all the heavy lifting. Or not for long, anyway."

Steve could guess at the state of Mike's hands, which likely hadn't ever known a day of hard labor, but the kid's fists were suddenly buried in his pockets.

"Whatever," Jonathan said, rubbing a weary hand over his face. "Do what you will, Munson. Arguing about it will only delay us further. And an experienced crew running a ship as fast as you claim this one is should make up for lost time."

The kids all nodded at that, as if the matter were decided, and made their way to the back rail of the Tigress, arguing about whether they could still see Hawkins in the distance. Jonathan headed in the opposite direction, presumably to brood in solitude or whatever it was he did in his spare time.

And with a triumphant smirk at Steve, Eddie returned his attention to the ship's helm. His ringed fingers gripped the spokes where Steve had done so frequently only mere months previously.

"What are you playing at, Munson?" Steve asked. The question emerged with less command than he'd intended.

Eddie slid an unreadable glance toward Steve and didn't respond for a long moment. But Steve remained firm where he was. He hadn't realized that he'd taken a few challenging steps closer to the pirate until that narrowed, wordless space was all that there was besides the rolling hiss of the sea around them.

"Ditch the coat, Harrington," Eddie said at last, eyes back on the ocean. "They'll shoot that royal blue off of you before you see the shore."

Steve couldn't argue with that. He was heading deep into enemy territory. Even with the law on his side, he'd be a dead man if he donned the badge of that power in unfriendly waters.

And as he sighed, finally moving away from the pirate while he shrugged off the bright blue coat, he recalled the ghost of another coat shoved from his shoulders by the ocean-soaked, ringed hands of Eddie Munson only a day previously.

…

"I'm not a bloody governess!" Steve declared with outrage after they reached Tortuga around sunset and anchored the Tigress properly at the docks.

Jonathan had wisely pointed out that a pirate's port was no place for children, and that observation somehow led to Steve being appointed to remain behind on the ship to watch over Dustin, Mike, and Jane.

"We don't need adult supervision," Mike added imperiously.

Steve didn't agree with that part, but arguing against someone objecting to the same scenario as him seemed detrimental to his cause. Eddie grinned, like he knew Steve was fighting the instinct to voice just how much they needed a veritable grown-up in their party. How if any passing pirate realized that just three teenagers stood between them and ownership of the fastest ship in the Caribbean, the Tigress would disappear in a heartbeat.

"That blue coat wasn't the only thing that marked you as a military man, Harrington," Eddie said. "Your presence would deter our purpose. No one wants to a join a pirate crew under the watch of the Royal Navy."

"I could pass as a pirate," Steve argued.

Everyone snickered at that. Even Jonathan coughed a laugh awkwardly into his fist.

"You don't even stand like a normal person," Dustin crowed and waved a hand in Steve's direction. "Who stands all stiff like that?"

Steve itched to point out that the Navy hammered that rigid straightness into his spine. That before he enlisted, Steve's shoulders had a natural inward curl that made his father bark a sharp reprimand about his posture at least once a week. But it would do little to support his stance, so instead, he aimed a sharp look at Dustin that would cow most of Steve's underlings. But Dustin only let out another squeaking peal of laughter.

"If it makes you feel better, we'll return this evening," Eddie said with a shrug. "Though there will be many a warm, inviting bed available ashore, it will be you Jonny and I will lay our heads beside tonight. Is that amenable, Harrington?"

Steve's cheeks grew hot for some reason, and he hoped the warm lighting of the setting sun hid the flush. Flustered, he grunted his affirmation, and Eddie smiled and tossed an arm over Jonathan's shoulders.

"Then it's settled. Though Jonny Boy could really benefit from some nighttime company, he'll skip it, taking one for the team just for you, Harrington. See you in a few hours."

Then Steve watched as Eddie steered the shorter man off of the ship and disappeared into the bustling crowd on the docks. Even after they were gone, Steve found himself staring where he'd last spotted them, wondering what the weight of Eddie's arm draped across his own shoulders would feel like.

"Nighttime company?"

Steve startled back to reality and turned to face the three teenagers left in his charge. It was Jane who voiced the question, tilting her head in confusion about the unfamiliar term.

And Steve wasn't going to touch that with a ten-foot pole. "Ask your brother when he returns."

"If no one else has plans for dinner, I could cook some of the pork stored below," Dustin said. "I think I saw green beans too?"

"You know how to do that?" Mike asked incredulously.

Dustin aimed an unimpressed look at his friend. "I work in your kitchens, Michael. I picked up a few things from Chef Clarke."

"Can I watch?" Jane said.

"Of course, come see a master at work," Dustin grinned

He led the way below deck with Mike loudly expressing his doubt in Dustin's abilities beside him and Jane trailing with her easy grace at their heels. Steve sighed and resigned himself to following them to make sure they didn't burn down his ship.

And the pork was over-spiced, and the green beans were mushy, but those kids and their inane chatter had Steve cracking a smile and enjoying one of the most pleasant meals he'd shared with anyone in a long damn time.

XXXXXX

Eddie Munson's arm left Jonathan's shoulders – thankfully – after only a few minutes of navigating the docks. Jonathan had to quicken his pace to keep up with the pirate's longer legs and his superior savviness of this port town. Tortuga.

Jonathan had left home before. His father had insisted that his firstborn son see the open sea at least once. And while he was largely ambivalent to life on a merchant ship, he loathed close confinement with Lonnie Byers. So the ocean voyages were infrequent. But that experience meant he wasn't totally shocked that Tortuga was… different to Hawkins.

The sun hadn't fully set, but Jonathan had the feeling that shadows stretched long in Tortuga even at midday. Even as he and Eddie left the docks and headed into the main streets of the village, they remained part of a throng. A laughing, cajoling group of people, albeit a tense one. As if even as they bared their throats, throwing back their heads in a cackle, they kept one hand tight on the hilt of a hidden knife.

And it reeked. Fumes of sour booze, heady tobacco, and stale, unwashed people assaulted Jonathan. The noxious odor only intensified when he followed Eddie down a tight alley that led to a pigsty. Because a smelly horde of swine should naturally be kept around the corner from a busy pub.

Eddie didn't stop, sure in his steps, but he snatched two buckets filled with water, long warmed from sitting out in the sun. He handed Jonathan one of them without a word, and then they rounded a corner to find a half-finished wooden stall. Three pigs snuffled among the dirt and straw under their feet. But Eddie's attention focused upon a man sprawled in a sparse pile of hay under the weak shelter of the stall.

Eddie smirked at the sight of the man – grubby clothing over ruddy skin, a surprisingly shaved round face, and a mop of hair that might be yellow or brown beneath the mud caking the strands. He snored loudly, mouth agape so that drool dribbled down his cheek. Eddie exchanged a wry look with Jonathan and then emptied his bucket over the prostrate man.

The man sat up straight abruptly, sputtering and squinting as he blinked rivulets of water out of his eyes. He stared up at Eddie and Jonathan blearily until his lips spread into a wide smile. With delight sparking his face, he looked years younger.

"Eddie," the man greeted warmly. Jonathan noted the first name basis, which Eddie promptly returned with equal fondness.

"Gareth."

"Christ above, I never thought I'd get this wakeup call from you again," the man – Gareth, evidently – replied. He rubbed the heel of one dirty hand at his eye. "Thought you were dead, honestly, mate."

"Most did," Eddie conceded. "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm hoping your current sleeping arrangements mean you're available."

"For you?" Gareth said, hoisting himself to his feet sloppily. Jonathan's preference to keep his distance from the man's overwhelming stench overrode his instinct to offer a steadying hand. Gareth stayed standing of his own accord though. "For the Dungeon Master? Who seems to have broken free of his chains yet again? Always."

Eddie smiled grimly. "A drink, then, to discuss this latest opportunity?"

"Aye, Captain," Gareth grinned back. And as he drew nearer, Jonathan couldn't stop his growing revulsion of the pig shit and muck covered man, nor could he halt his own actions. He flung the water out of the bucket in his hands all over Gareth. The man yelped and rounded on him, looking fierce despite his only five-and-a-half feet in height.

"You're a dead man, you reedy little fuck!" Gareth spat.

Eddie moved quickly to grab Gareth by his shoulder. "Not today, he's not, Gare-bear. This is our ally, Jonathan Byers. I'll explain further over pints at the Hideaway, all right?"

Gareth relaxed slightly, exchanging a curious glance with Eddie before scoffing in Jonathan's direction. "You've aligned us with a madman, Eddie? Again?"

Eddie flinched at that, and Jonathan shrugged under the weight of both of their gazes. "It was for the smell," he said.

Eddie let out a loud laugh, slapping Gareth on the back who nodded sympathetically. Then Eddie led the way out of the alley, through the crowded street, and into a dingy pub labeled The Hideaway with an image of a closed eye.

"You're buying," Gareth huffed at Eddie, and he navigated his way to an open table toward the back of the room.

Jonathan followed Eddie to the bar and watched as he ordered three tankards of beer, paying for them with a coin purse Jonathan had never seen before. Jonathan frowned as he realized he must have pinched it sometime during their stroll through the port town. And he wondered if he should bother feeling affronted at the theft of coin by one pirate from another.

"Munson," a woman's voice crooned. Both Eddie and Jonathan turned to see a lady with a tangle of chestnut hair, blood red lipstick, harsh blush, and a low-cut bodice that had Jonathan suspecting she had something to sell.

Eddie stiffened at the sight of her, but when Jonathan looked, there was a winning smile stretched tightly across his cheeks. "Heather."

As the woman drew nearer, her coy expression shuttered. And before Jonathan could register his bewilderment, she slapped Eddie across the face and then marched out of the building.

Jonathan fixed his astonished gaze to Eddie who frowned after the woman, rubbing absently at his reddening cheek. "I'm not sure I deserved that," Eddie muttered.

Then another figure materialized before them. A tall, willowy blond man who also wore rouge on his cheeks. His face twisted with fury as he glared at Eddie. "Who is she?"

Eddie's eyes widened, but there was no time for him to react further before he was slapped again. And in a blink, the man had disappeared. Eddie gave his head a shake and leaned wearily against the bar. "That one I deserved," he admitted.

He sighed and took up two of the tankards that materialized atop the bar and then nodded toward the third one, which Jonathan reached for hesitantly.

"Do you mind keeping an eye out around here?" Eddie asked, leaning into Jonathan conspiratorially. "Gareth's a bit squirrelly around new folks. It's best if I butter him up alone, swing him to our side, and persuade him to use his vast network to pull more recruits. You understand how it is, Jonny."

Jonathan scowled at the nickname. And though he doubted Gareth really minded his presence all that much once the bucket-dumping incident had been explained, Jonathan grunted his agreement. He took a sip of the bitter ale in his hand and watched Eddie swerve his way to Gareth's spindly table.

Eddie had asked Jonathan to keep watch during this conversation, but Jonathan could do so within earshot of the two pirates. So Jonathan took another swallow of beer, wincing at the harsh taste, and sidled to an improved position leaning against a column only a few yards from Eddie and Gareth.

"—of Lonnie Byers?"

"The very same."

And Jonathan's stomach soured at the mention of his father's name from these pirates' mouths. Even years after his death, the man seemed to pop into frame out of nowhere, a particularly irksome bit of dung he couldn't scrape from his boot. The memory of his father inspired more ire in him than the likelihood they were talking about Jonathan.

"But enough about the reedy fuck," Eddie said, confirming Jonathan's suspicions. "We've a ready ship, a pearl of the Royal Navy, even. With you as my first mate and even a halfway decent crew, we can win her back. The Hellfire will be ours again. What do you say?"

"The Royal Navy?" Gareth echoed, voice aghast. Jonathan chanced a glance, and the pirate's eyes were as wide as saucers. He could only see the back of Eddie's bird's nest of black hair from where his sentry's post behind the column. "If anyone else claimed that, I'd cut out their lying tongues. But you pull off the most insane ploys, I believe you."

"So you know I'm right when I tell you my plan will work," Eddie pressed.

"God help me, I reckon I do," Gareth said with a slow shake of his head. "I've sailed with you long enough to know you won't show me all the cards in your hand, but if we're to do this – really do this – you need to keep me in the loop. With the Byers fuck, with Hargrove, with the bloody Royal Navy. I trust whatever rot in your gut's gotten you this far, but I won't be made a fool of."

"Agreed," Eddie said quickly. He held his hand out across the table. "And you'll use the usual channels to rally the troops?"

"Aye," Gareth said with a sigh, taking Eddie's ringed hand in his own dirty one. At the sight of their joined hands, Gareth wrinkled his nose, studying his filthy fingers long after Eddie released him. "What do you think the odds are of O'Donnell granting me a bath, let alone a room for the night?"

"Slim to none, my friend," Eddie snorted. "The witch has seen you often enough in my crowd, she'll refuse you on principal."

"Cheers, mate," Gareth said drily.

The pirates drank to that, and Jonathan scowled as he sipped from his own tankard. This smelled off, far worse than Gareth's pants, even. But if Jonathan was about to find himself in harm's way, it still meant Eddie was leading them to the Hellfire. To Nancy. To see her, to know she was safe, would be worthwhile, even if it stole the last air from Jonathan's lungs.

XXXXXX

A clang on the cabin door had Nancy startle into a stiff standing position. Robin snorted herself out of her doze, blinking dazedly around the dark captain's quarters until her shoulders sank. The reality had set back in… they'd been prisoners aboard a pirate ship for nearly 24 hours.

And in all that time, this was the first sound that had come from that locked door. No pirates had harassed them. But it also meant that no one brought them food or water. She was surprised Robin managed to snatch a bit of sleep over the roaring from her stomach.

In their time of captivity, Nancy had wracked her brain for some way out of this mess. But even if she and Robin managed to break out of the cabin and sneak off of the ship, they were surrounded by open water. There was no swimming their way back to Hawkins. Two inexperienced women could hardly commandeer the ship and sail it north – at least Nancy had marked they were currently heading southward. Nancy had just been contemplating setting the entire boat on fire on the brief chance the smoke would garner the attention of the Royal Navy that was surely searching for her. And then the clang scattered her thoughts to the wind.

And seconds after the sound, the door shoved open, and Andy and Carver barged into the room, grinning around their rotted teeth.

"A change of clothes for ye both," Andy announced gleefully. He held up an elegant but somewhat ragged yellow dress just as Carver tossed a deep turquoise one over to Robin, who caught it with an alarmed yelp. "You'll dine with the captain now. And you'll wear these."

Robin tilted her head and hummed at the fabric of the dress in her hands which looked just shy of expensive. But Nancy stuck out her chin. "You can let the captain know that we decline his offer."

"Oh, make no mistake, this was no request," Andy said. "Although Captain Hargrove did stipulate an alternative. Should you deny dinner with him, you'll break bread with the crew instead, and you'll be naked. What'll it be, girls?"

"We'll dine with Captain Hargrove," Robin answered quickly, shooting a panicked look Nancy's way.

Carver huffed in disappointment, and Andy shrugged. "Very well. Get those on, and we'll return in five minutes."

"Five?" Nancy challenged unhappily.

"I'm sorry, would you rather we delayed dinner until tomorrow night instead?" Andy sniped back.

Nancy frowned as her stomach rumbled pointedly to remind her that no she would not rather wait another 24 hours for sustenance. Andy snorted at her lack of comeback, and the pirates left her and Robin alone again.

Nancy sighed and waved Robin to come closer to her. She pointed at the lacings at her back. "Can you help me with these?"

Robin made a strangled, garbling sound and didn't move. Nancy frowned at where the governess stood stock still, dress gripped too tightly in her fists, staring fervently at the floor, the walls, the ceiling, everywhere but Nancy.

"You accepted this dinner party invitation so promptly, I assumed you were eager to attend," Nancy snapped. "Will you help me so we can get this over with? I'd rather be fully clothed when those pirates return."

Robin blinked and finally met Nancy's gaze unhappily before shuffling nearer. Nancy couldn't see them, but she felt Robin's warm fingers tremble as they loosened the strings of her nightgown. She made quick work of it, and Nancy turned to face her, waving an impatient hand so that she could assist Robin with her lacing too.

"Uh, no, no, mine's not so fancy a frock as yours," Robin stammered, staggering backward several yards. "I've got everything under control here."

Nancy blinked. Robin was acting strangely. But these were strange circumstances, so Nancy just shrugged. "Whatever."

Nancy dressed in a hurry and was relieved to find that the fit was only a little loose on her small frame and that the fabric only smelled a tad stale. Despite her haste in changing, Nancy found Robin already dressed and gazing determinedly at a fixed spot on the ground, arms tight across her chest.

And hell, Nancy was nervous too. She felt for the girl. So she approached and placed a gentle hand on her arm. "Hey, I'm scared too. This is… a nightmare. But I think we've both attended parties we would rather have skipped. This will be like that."

Robin had been staring at where Nancy's hand touched her bare bicep but at her words, she looked up at Nancy incredulously. "Except they might kill us. Or… you know."

Nancy winced. Robin didn't need to speak it aloud for Nancy to understand the danger. "I do. I don't know what's going to happen to us. But we're in this together. And we're going to handle it. Do you hear me?"

Robin squeaked a little and then nodded.

"For what it's worth, that sea-green color is stunning on you," Nancy tried.

"It's dark, Miss Wheeler," Robin said with a small chuckle. "You can't possibly know that."

"Nancy," Nancy amended with a smile. "You're Miss Wheeler here."

"Oh, right," Robin said sheepishly. Then she tilted her head. "And you're Miss Byers. Aren't the Byers that family that runs the general store? The mother, the little girl, and–"

"Yes, completely random that the name occurred to me," Nancy responded rapidly.

Robin hummed at that, and then the pirates were back. They were led just below deck where a magnificent feast was laid upon a long table. Captain Hargrove sat majestically at the head of the table and gestured to Nancy and Robin to sit at either side of him. They did, and they ladled their plates and began eating swiftly. It was only after Nancy had powered through a turkey leg, a healthy scoop of peas and carrots, and half a goblet of wine that she realized the captain wasn't eating. He just watched ardently – blue eyes dark and wanting.

Nancy dropped her silverware with a clatter. "It's poison," she realized grimly. Robin spewed a mouthful of red wine across her plate and a bowl filled with lush fruit.

Hargrove didn't flinch. He plucked one of the wine-soaked apples from the dish and rubbed at it tenderly with the edge of the tablecloth until it was dry again. He traced the vivid green skin of it with his thumb before looking balefully at Nancy.

"Do you really think I would have bothered to keep you aboard my ship all day only to poison you? You seem like a sharp one, Miss Byers. Where's the sense in that?"

"Then why aren't you touching the food?" Nancy challenged.

Hargrove didn't take umbrage with her tone, thankfully. Nancy only realized the sharpness of her words once they'd left her lips. Hargrove didn't break eye contact with her as he dug into the pocket of his coat and held up Jonathan's golden medallion.

"You really don't know what this is?" Hargrove observed curiously. "Neither of you?"

Nancy and Robin both kept their mouths shut, and Hargrove sighed. "This medallion comes from the lost treasure of Isla de Muerta. One of ten gold pieces. Centuries ago, the infamous conquistador Cortes slayed his way through the Caribbean. He'd hear a whisper of hordes of gold and cut down anyone who stood in his way. His path of greed and slaughter led him to the shores of Isla de Muerta, where a famed treasure trove lay hidden in a secret cove. He found it, and though the local tribes defended it as well as he could, he murdered them all. The last man standing was a powerful shaman, and with his dying breath, he cursed the gold and all who took it in bad faith.

"Those with greed in their hearts who stole this treasure for their own would know no satiation of their thirst, their hunger, their lust. In avarice they would take the gold, so with the gold, only avarice they would know. And they would never find the peace of death, the end of their suffering, until every last piece of the treasure was returned to its rightful place."

"Cortes died at home in Spain at a ripe old age," Nancy said matter-of-factly.

"Aye, he did," Hargrove conceded. "But that was after his ship ran aground, and the entire crew survived miraculously. Though they soon learned the truth of the suffering in store for them. They were tormented, driven to madness, until Cortes, the terror of the Caribbean, caved and returned each gold piece with the necessary sacrifice to free them from the curse."

"You speak of curses, magic, as if they were real," Nancy tried her best not to scoff. "These are ghost stories. Tales meant for children, albeit violent ones."

"I thought the same myself three years ago," Hargrove said. "I heard tell of this cursed treasure and dismissed the risk. Me and my crew, we happily took that gold and spent it well. Then food turned to ash in our mouths, drink could not sate us, and we felt no warmth from a lover's touch. There is no relief for the likes of us, Miss Byers. We are cursed until each bit of this gold is returned and repaid in blood. So I ask you again, where is the sense in killing you? At least, now."

Robin let out a fortifying cry then and plunged her dinner knife into Hargrove's chest. Nancy's mouth fell open at the sudden violence. A red stain leaked its away around the hilt of the knife still buried below Hargrove's sternum. But she blinked back into herself in time to leap out of her seat and follow Robin as she dashed out of the room. They gasped their way up the short ladder to the deck, and unfortunately, the crew had finished their supper already. The deck was crowded with pirates going about their usual work keeping the boat moving.

Nancy collided into Robin's back because the girl had suddenly come to an abrupt halt.

"Robin, I really think we need to—"

Nancy stopped talking at once because the pirates… did not look human. Under the silver moonlight, their skin had evaporated save for a few stubborn fragments that clung to their bones. Ragged clothes hung from their bodies, and the skeletons – for that's what they were – tugged rigging, swabbed the planks, and cranked gears as if nothing was amiss. Nancy feared that Hargrove slipped some kind of hallucinogen into the food after all. The alternative was that her eyes fell upon the living dead.

"Nancy, are you seeing this?" Robin said in a choked whisper.

"I think – I don't – I…"

Nancy didn't have an explanation for this. She wanted to dismiss it as a vision caused by drugged wine. But this was real, too real, and Robin's trembling frame beside her meant she shared in this potential hallucination.

"We- we need to—"

Nancy tugged at Robin's arm, eerily reminiscent of the night before, although this was a fresh, inconceivable horror that plagued the two of them now. But when Nancy turned, she found their way below deck blocked by Hargrove. And in the moonlight, his flawless skin had vanished to reveal a stark skull, though he retained those hungry blue eyes and blonde curls. The knife was gone from his chest, though the scarlet blood stain remained. He stood tall, paying his injury no mind. As if he did not feel it.

Hargrove spread his arms wide, throwing his head back as if soaking in the moonlight. His bony fingers stretching, and Nancy had a clear view of the spinal line of his neck.

"The moonlight reveals us for the monsters we've become, the monsters we always were," Hargrove said simply. "But you'll free us, Miss Byers. This gold and your blood can relieve us of this curse once and for all. We've brought all the pieces back but this one. Are you convinced this magic is real now? You best start believing in ghost stories. You're in one."

Nancy was frozen. This was… this was impossible. But it was happening and it was horrifying. Robin regained use of her limbs first and snatched Nancy's hand to pull her to the captain's quarters. She dragged Nancy inside and slammed the door shut, sealing out Captain Hargrove's resounding cackle at their fear.

They sat in the dark, panting, before Robin finally voiced aloud. "Okay, I don't normally swear, but what the actual fuck?"