Sailors like Steve relied on the moon. That great celestial body illuminated what would otherwise be eternal black above and below the creaky deck under his booted feet. It pulled at the water so that launches from the shore relied on its temper, even when it hid in the sunny skies. When full, it glared as willfully as the sun. It could fade into a slim curve, a teasing glimpse of its power. Even when cloaked entirely in shadow, it still kept its solemn watch over the world.

Twice a month, Tommy would never fail to mention how he found a gibbous moon hideous. He'd wrinkle his freckled nose at the gall of the skewed orb, bizarrely bulbous like a caricature of something meant to be almighty. Steve would laugh the way he was expected to, but it felt blasphemous, an insult to one of the primary beacons in Steve's world.

Now, Steve gazed up at that goofy-looking gibbous from his perch leaned against the Tigress's helm. He knew that moon, he knew this ship, he knew the volatile water and sky that engulfed them all, even in the dark. And though his memory called up Tommy's jeering, Steve was glad of the quiet in the wake of his friend's absence now.

Many of the night's friendly stars hid in the jolly glow of Tortuga, so Steve was left alone to admire the imperfect waxing gibbous in all her glory.

He hadn't been on his own for long. After dinner, he and the kids sought fresh air and chatted amiably while the sun vanished beneath the earth's edge and the laughingstock of a moon made its bold entrance in the night. Then Mike hissed one too many times at the burn of his raw palms, and Jane tutted and dragged him below deck to dress the wounds. They didn't return.

That left Steve with Dustin, a child and a stranger. Steve got on well enough with Jane and Mike due to their shared history aboard this very ship. But he had nothing to say to the boy sat cross-legged across from him.

Dustin didn't share Steve's awkwardness. He beamed that gummy smile and launched into a story about a particularly massive jellyfish he'd found washed ashore last week. It twitched when prodded with a bit of driftwood, so he'd endeavored to rescue the thing but couldn't locate a big enough bucket. Steve didn't want to break it to him that the creature was likely beyond saving by the time it reached the sand, so instead he let an age-old warning roll off his tongue.

"You don't touch jellyfish," Steve said. "They can sting even when dead."

"I know that!" Dustin protested. And unprompted, he proceeded to explain that jellyfish tentacles, even though they appear soft and squishy, contain thousands of tiny venomous barbs that cause that zap of pain when touched. A fact that Steve hadn't known or thought about before.

Dustin knew a great deal about sea life, Steve discovered. Mr. Clarke, the head chef at the Wheeler mansion, noticed Dustin's natural curiosity quickly and took the kid to the fishmonger to learn all he could about the creatures they caught, sold, and ate, as well as those they encountered but didn't consume. This kid was smart with such an eager mind, and Steve was not surprised when Dustin revealed his mother sent him to work in Hawkins to earn enough money to attend school someday. Steve had never been great at studying himself, but he could imagine Dustin thriving at a university.

Then the hour grew late enough that yawns choked every other sentence Dustin uttered, so Steve sent him to bed. And without a sea of stars to occupy his attention, Steve had been watching the gibbous moon since.

Until a familiar cackle broke out on the far end of the dock. Steve squinted into the dark and watched the faces of Eddie Munson and Jonathan Byers pass under the weak light of the pirate-harbormaster's lantern. Eddie's arm was around Jonathan's shoulders once more, and Jonathan appeared as pleased about the scenario as he was when he left the Tigress. Eddie's glee in his companion's stiff discomfort glowed brighter than the orange torchlight. And Steve found his own mood lightening in response.

A smile stole over Steve's face as an idea took hold in his mind. He slid his sword from its scabbard, shuffled into the shadows, and waited. It wasn't long before boots clomped aboard the ship, and Steve slipped behind Eddie's back. The tip of his sword was an inch away from Eddie's dingy tunic, and Steve's smirk was only a little further from the pirate's ear.

"Hands up, turn around," Steve said smugly. "Slowly."

"What the hell, Harrington?" Jonathan barked. But Steve wasn't looking at him. Instead, he watched with fascination as Eddie followed his instructions, facing Steve with a grin and not sparing a glance toward the blade now aimed at his chest.

"You think you're such a clever boy," Eddie purred. "But you forget the pistol at my belt that will foil your attempt at swordplay."

"So draw it," Steve challenged. "Foil my attempt at swordplay."

Eddie's smile widened, and Jonathan muttered something about escaping these children to check on the actual kids and disappeared below deck.

Before Steve could goad Eddie further, Eddie launched himself forward, tackling Steve around the middle. Steve landed hard on his back with an oof, and his sword clattered away. Eddie's weight on top of him kept him from reaching for his discarded weapon, and he found himself too busy to worry about the blade when Eddie scrambled to straddle Steve's torso and pin his shoulders to the ground.

Steve was stronger than he looked, and he heaved Eddie off of him, rolling them easily so that Steve now hovered above Eddie. But Eddie was quick and squirmy. He kicked Steve's thigh so hard that the fabric in his trousers tore, and Steve yelped at the resulting wrenched muscle. Eddie took the opportunity to wrestle Steve to his back once more, and he looped his legs and arms around Steve's so that Steve found himself hardly able to move.

"Do you yield?" Eddie grinned.

Steve gritted his teeth and pulled his wrist as hard as he could manage, just loosening Eddie's grip enough that Steve could grab a fistful of Eddie's long hair and yank. Eddie grunted, but Steve didn't let go of the curls.

"Do you?" Steve panted.

Eddie's eyes glittered as they flickered over Steve's face. "Never."

Then Eddie craned his neck and sank his teeth into the soft flesh of Steve's forearm.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Munson!" Steve hissed at the sharp sting of the bite. His fingers spasmed, releasing their hold on Eddie's hair.

Eddie let out a loud laugh. His teeth came free of Steve's arm, and warm breath ghosted on Steve's spit-slicked skin, making him shiver. "There's that bloody blasphemy. I knew you had it in you, Harrington."

Eddie repositioned his grip to slam Steve's wrist to the deck, properly pinning it by Steve's ear. But Steve's fingers had caught in the tangles of Eddie's hair—accidentally this time—and the sharp motion tugged Eddie's face down until it was millimeters from Steve's own. They gasped in tandem, and Steve's world became Eddie's wide dark eyes.

They remained frozen like that for a long moment, and Steve was fixated on every spot their bodies touched. With Eddie's limbs coiled around him like tentacles, there were scant parts of Steve not weighed down by Eddie. When Steve noticed himself matching Eddie's breaths just so their chests would meet on their shared inhales, Steve swallowed and broke the spell of the moment.

"Suppose you got what you wanted then," Steve said roughly. "A reason to see me in chains."

The night didn't hide the way Eddie's near-black eyes darkened, not with such a small distance between them.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Eddie whispered.

Eddie unraveled himself from Steve and flopped onto his back beside him. They both breathed and blinked up at the inky sky. The wonky gibbous moon. A few strands of Eddie's hair still looped around Steve's fingers, and he didn't dare move.

"Almost there, sweetheart," Eddie sighed after a while.

Steve's heart skipped a beat. "What?"

Eddie gestured vaguely upward, where the moon shone alone without the winking stars. "I'd give her four nights 'til she peaks. Not that she's not beautiful as she is, but she'll be putting in the work to really fuck with us, with the tides, I mean. She'll shine as bright as she can. Then she'll recover and do it all over again. A brilliant performance."

"Indeed," Steve agreed. He truly agreed. He wondered if they would see it together, the full moon, or if their venture would have come to its inevitable end by then.

As if the moon tugged on his blood like it did the sea, some well of emotion crashed through his veins. Which Steve elected to ignore.

"How did it go ashore?" Steve asked with more force than he intended.

Eddie took a beat to respond. "I trust my network to gather a decent crew. They'll arrive at dawn, and we'll depart straight away."

Steve hummed. He didn't look forward to meeting more pirates, but the sooner they could renew their course toward Nancy and Robin, the better. Inevitable end to the man beside him's companionship aside. Eddie's head lolled in Steve's direction, and he squinted at him.

"Tell me my new crew won't be signing their death warrants in joining me," Eddie said grimly. "Will you swear you won't hang them as soon as you return to your command?"

Steve had to press his lips together to prevent himself from retorting that he wasn't an executioner. Especially when, to a pirate like Eddie, Steve was as good as one. What his tongue did come up with wasn't much better. "I remain in command now."

Eddie scoffed. "Think again, hostage. This crew is pledging to serve me as their captain. I'm commanding this ship."

"This ship," Steve echoed. "I captained the Tigress for three years. She belongs to the Crown, naturally, but if anyone's commanding her—"

"She was yours?" Eddie sat up, and Steve pretended he didn't mourn the loss when his hair escaped his fingers at last. Eddie looked around at the sleek railings and masts and ran his palm across the smooth wood of the deck. "Huh." Then his gaze returned to Steve. "You didn't answer my question, Commodore."

Steve sighed. He'd been hoping to distract the pirate. It would be duplicitous, immoral, to work alongside men for this rescue mission, regardless of their crimes, only to condemn them as soon as the job was done. He was sworn to his duty, to the King and his law, but he need not be inhumane.

"Hard to charge a man with acts of piracy if I was unable to witness such crimes," Steve ventured. "What with being locked in the brig and blindfolded for the entirety of the voyage. Inconvenient, this hostage business."

Eddie smiled down at him. "Poor Harrington, all by his onesie and left out of the fun." He leaned back on his hands. "But it's not true, is it? Illusion of your captivity aside, we both know you're as complicit in commandeering this ship as I am. Pirate."

Eddie purred the word, as if it was a term of endearment rather than a condemnation of villainy, a dark stain on the soul. Steve shivered as the word settled in his bones. Because Eddie was right. He'd aided in the theft of a ship belonging to the Crown. The definition of piracy.

He combed through his mind for any sense of regret and found none. Divine punishment for his actions would surely come. But not yet.

"I suppose I'll have to turn myself in," Steve said with a shrug. "Face the King's judgment. Perhaps they'll hang us side by side."

Eddie squinted at Steve once more. "I can't tell if you're joking. Is this gallows humor or are you an idiot?"

Steve frowned. "If I refrained, wouldn't you inform the Royal Navy of my wrongdoings yourself if you were taken into custody? Wouldn't you want to see me punished the way I deserve to be?"

Eddie made a strange squawking sound and lay down abruptly, eyes trained to the sky again. "As if they'd believe you'd ever compromise your virtue and throw in with the likes of me. There'd be no point in my tattling."

"You'd be surprised," Steve scoffed. His men obeyed him, but they didn't seem to like or respect him much. Not after receiving his promotion at such a young age and then failing to defend Hawkins against a pirate attack on his first day. They'd likely leap at the chance to watch his downfall.

Eddie rolled onto his side so that his entire body narrowed its focus to Steve. Steve resisted the urge to squirm under the sudden attention.

"I find myself frequently surprised when it comes to you, Harrington," Eddie said.

"Oh," Steve breathed as his cheeks prickled in a blush.

Eddie sighed. "Will we go to bed?"

Steve blinked at the abrupt question. "What?"

"Jonathan's got first watch.

"He does?"

"He appears quite insistent." Eddie nodded across the deck to where Jonathan was, indeed, scowling purposefully toward the docks.

"I doubt he trusts anyone else to do so," Eddie added. Then he raised his voice and called out, "Wake Harrington for second watch!"

Steve squawked in protest, and Jonathan didn't bother looking their way as he waved a dismissive hand.

"Guess you better sleep while you can," Eddie said. He got to his feet and offered a hand to help Steve up as well.

Steve grasped Eddie's hand in his and relished the warm squeeze of it before he found his footing and it was gone. "You trust me to watch over you as you sleep?" Steve couldn't help asking.

Eddie raised an eyebrow as they made their way below deck. "Do you trust me to?"

Steve didn't answer right away, thinking about his honest sentiment on the matter. Eddie Munson was a pirate, someone capable of treachery. But Steve wondered at the fact that his instinct longed to respond in the affirmative, despite the logic before him.

Out loud, he let out a noncommittal hum. Eddie mimicked the hum around an amused smirk and pushed open the door to the captain's quarters.

It appeared as Steve remembered, although his personal effects had been removed. The desk was free of paperwork, revealing a rather large splotch of ink which Steve had spilled years ago that absorbed and stubbornly clung to the porous wood surface. A long table and chairs took up a large portion of the floor, which was newly covered with an ostentatious rug.

In the far corner was a four-poster bed with a mattress that Steve knew was firmer than most preferred but suited his spine just right. Under the standard-issue navy-blue bedspread, Dustin, Jane, and Mike huddled, sound asleep.

"Insolent little leeches," Eddie muttered, but there was no malice in his words.

"Leave them," Steve said lowly. "Reinstate your hierarchy and claim the room in the morning."

"So you do acknowledge my command," Eddie said with a wide smile.

Steve rolled his eyes and pulled the door closed behind them as quietly as he could. "I acknowledge my hostage story is more credible if you temporarily take the helm of the Tigress."

"You'll need to address me by my proper title, Harrington, or you'll spoil the ruse," Eddie said gleefully as they headed deeper into the ship.

Steve shook his head, but when they arrived at the barracks, Steve pushed open the door and bent into a gawdy bow. "After you, Captain Munson."

When Steve rose, Eddie had stopped directly in front him. They were of a similar height, but Steve felt as if Eddie examined him keenly down his nose, as if Steve were still hunched before him. It was stuffy and hot below deck, but a chill licked down Steve's spine all the same.

"I could get used to this," Eddie declared wryly. Then he stepped closer, and Steve held his breath. Eddie's fingers worked quickly to pluck the medallion, which had fallen out of Steve's shirt sometime during the evening, and slip it back under the fabric. His nimble fingers redid the shirt buttons as if they were tucking the gold into bed for the night.

"It is my recommendation that you keep that hidden at all times," Eddie said. His smile slipped, and when his eyes lifted from Steve's chest to meet his gaze once again, he appeared grave.

"Aye, aye, Captain," Steve chirped back.

"Good lad," Eddie smirked, tapping Steve's chest twice for emphasis.

Each tap zapped through Steve's veins, and Steve was so lost in the sensation that it took a moment to realize Eddie had kicked off his boots and settled into one of the many hammocks that lined each side of the long room.

Steve found a hammock a healthy distance away and unlaced his own boots. He frowned at the tear in his trousers that revealed an inconvenient amount of skin. Fortunately, the supply closet was just outside the door, and he slipped into a pair of somewhat shabby but clean and untorn trousers. If he were in his own bedroom beneath his usual duvet at Fort Hawkins, Steve would skip pants altogether when sleeping. But he was all too aware of his audience, and the image of baring his legs to Eddie was… too ludicrous to dwell upon.

When he slipped back inside the barracks, he chanced a glance at the pirate who lay still, limbs askew and his face turned toward the door. His dark eyes were hidden beneath their lids, but he lacked the softness of sleep, Steve observed. Still awake then.

Nonetheless, he kept his socked steps quiet while he crept to his hammock. He settled in easily despite it having been several years since he'd been assigned such an awkward sleeping arrangement. Steve rolled to face the door and, inherently, Eddie, though all he could see was a wayward arm and foot and tufts of dark hair that were hardly visible in the shadowy night. Drowsiness struck quickly, and he had time to wonder at how easy it was to close his eyes with the pirate mere meters away before he succumbed to sleep.
…

Eddie had scurried off the ship before daybreak, so Steve didn't get a chance to speak with him again before the pirate was leading a ragtag group of about ten aboard the ship just as the sun's rays began to soak the island in earnest. Steve tried to keep out of the way as the kids and Jonathan moved to greet their new crewmates.

"Welcome aboard," Eddie said with a dramatic sweeping motion. Several of the pirates seemed young, about Jane's age, if Steve had to guess. Although one girl seemed even younger. They were… motley, to put it mildly. But on short notice, this lot was likely the best that could be assembled.

"The temporary crew will continue with us on our voyage, as I explained," Eddie was explaining to the pirates. "That's Jonathan, Dustin, Mike, Jane, and Steve."

The address by first name was jarring, but Steve supposed their last names might be recognizable and therefore damning. He tried to shake off the strange thrill of hearing his nickname uttered in Eddie's low voice, and he blamed this system reboot of his for his delay in recognition.

"Jesus H. Christ." Steve looked up at the oath and met a familiar round face and shaggy hair. The man's full cheeks were coloring quickly as his face soured, and Steve blinked as the name came to him.

"Mr. Emerson?" Steve asked mildly.

Mr. Emerson, a former sailor on this very ship who served under Steve's captainship on his maiden voyage from England, turned a sharp glare to Eddie, who winced.

"Steve, huh?" Mr. Emerson sneered. "He remembers my fucking name. What the hell did we agree to? What was my one caveat? Keep me in the loop. And now you've set us up with—"

"Gareth, you've sailed with Steve before then?" Eddie interrupted quickly. "Then you'll know how much we've valued his experience in this first leg of the journey. You'll have plenty of time to catch up later. But we've got to get moving just now. The tide won't be on our side for long after all."

Gareth Emerson shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled sharply through his nose. When he opened his eyes once more, he seemed resigned to keeping his mouth shut, despite the way his fingers were clenched into fists.

"What was that about?" asked a girl with orange braids hanging down both sides of her freckled face.

"Nothing of import, Little Red," Eddie smiled winningly.

"This stinks," a high voice piped up. It was the littlest girl of the crew, and Steve doubted she had reached 12 years of age. Still, she put her hands on her hips and scowled at Eddie with an authority Steve had seen in Admirals. "You stink, Munson. Like rotted kelpie testicles. Something's not right, and you'll tell us what it is now, or we'll walk."

"Afraid you've signed your tiny little ass to me already, Lady Sinclair," Eddie said gravely. "You're going nowhere."

"You're lucky to have me, you pasty bastard," the girl said, wrinkling her nose. "Especially with what you did to my ship."

"Not actually yours," Eddie muttered.

"My birthright! It would be mine now if you hadn't stolen it from under my auntie's nose."

"Lucas, shouldn't the ship have been yours?" asked a thickly-built pirate with sparse curls of hair. Steve tried to place his name from the quick introductions and couldn't manage it. "Beings you're older than your sister."

"Got a birthright of my own," said a dark-skinned boy who shared the same eye and nose shape as the angry girl, now that Steve looked closer. "This one's Erica's fight. I'm just here for the money."

"We've had this argument already, Little Lady," Eddie cut in sharply. "You'll get your ship – this ship – as soon as the Hellfire is back in my grasp."

"This ship?" Steve scowled.

No one acknowledged Steve's outburst, and Erica Sinclair rolled her eyes. "Fine. But that doesn't explain why you're being weird about Steve."

"I'm not being weird about Steve," Eddie countered.

"You kinda are," a tall guy with several gold teeth said with a shrug.

"Steve is very normal!" Dustin chimed in earnestly as if that was helpful.

"Steve seems too normal if anything," the red-haired girl said snidely. "It's Munson we're supposed to put our trust in, and he's giving us absolutely no reason to."

"Wait, is that…" Gareth Emerson straightened from where he'd been brooding in a corner. His eyes widened as he took in the kids, as if recognizing… Oh. He'd been there when they'd ferried the governor's son to Hawkins and rescued the girl from the charred remains of a ship.

Before Steve could think of a way to disrupt his revelation, Eddie spoke up, his voice dark. "Enough. I've been more than forthcoming about what to expect aboard my ship. I commandeered this naval vessel to take back my own ship, the Hellfire. You've heard of her, have you not? Aboard the Hellfire are two hostages, and these noble civilians seek to rescue them. After that, we shall part ways. I'll have my ship, and you're welcome to continue on with the infamous Hellfire crew if you choose. The offered compensation is more than fair. Now hoist the bloody anchor and raise the sails before we lose the tide. And I mean now, you sorry sacks of rotted kelpie testicles."

Erica Sinclair scoffed at the blatant thievery of her insult, but she moved with the rest of the crew to prepare the ship for launch as commanded.

"Kelpies aren't even real," Mike protested under his breath, but he followed after the pirates in loosing the rigging.

Steve hesitated, unsure if he wanted to intercept Gareth and set some kind of record straight or if he should speak to Eddie. About what, Steve couldn't pin down a specific topic. He just knew he'd feel steadier with a word from his captain.

He didn't need to make a decision because Eddie snatched Gareth by the shirt and steered him toward the helm, to a quiet corner where fewer wayward crew ears could overhear anything. Eddie caught Steve's gaze and gave a quick jerk of his head, and Steve hastened to join them.

"Ah, two captains," Gareth sneered upon Steve's arrival. "Just what this whole wretched trip needs."

"Not true, actually, Steve's a commodore now," Dustin piped up, having materialized out of nowhere.

"As helpful as ever, Henderson," Eddie said through gritted teeth. "Go below and check the rations."

"But I already—"

"Dismissed, Henderson."

Dustin rolled his eyes but obeyed, which left Steve with Eddie, who was taking a deep breath as he contemplated the wide blue sky above them, and Gareth, who was glaring daggers harshly enough at Steve that he wondered if he might actually drop dead.

"Dustin's a kitchen boy at the Wheeler mansion," Steve explained in a low voice. "And yes, that was young Mike Wheeler, the governor's son you spotted. And the girl, the one we pulled from the sea, she goes by Jane Byers now. Jonathan is her adopted brother."

"You share too freely, Commodore," Gareth frowned, coughing out Steve's title like it was a curse.

"I only share it with you, our first mate," Steve shrugged. "You won't trust me during this voyage. I know that. I care nothing for Munson's aims with his ship. I only wish to rescue the two captured women and return them to Hawkins, safe and sound. Munson and I have an accord that what happens until that time is no business of mine. I hope we can sail together with some peace if we can speak plainly."

"Right, and I'm the Shah of Persia," Gareth muttered. He slid a squinted look to Eddie. "What the fuck is this, really, Eddie?"

"The Commodore speaks truly," Eddie said. Steve couldn't read his stony expression. "I didn't anticipate your recognition of him, but Steve's presence doesn't alter our course."

Gareth studied his captain for a long moment, and Steve allowed himself to watch Eddie too. His usually languid limbs were held stiffly, and there was no trace of a smile in his lips or his sternly dark eyes.

Eventually, Gareth harrumphed. He shoved an accusatory finger in Steve's face. "You stay the fuck away from me."

Steve grimaced but didn't respond as the pirate stormed off, not bothering to look back as he joined the crew in getting the ship to sea. He remembered a glum and cantankerous aura about the man when they sailed together years previously, but this deep-seated hatred directly Steve's way was… jarring. Was he that awful to sail under?

"It's your uniform," Eddie said, as if reading Steve's thoughts. Steve held out his arms, gesturing to his lack of military-issue coat, trousers, and wig, and Eddie rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."

Eddie meant not to take Gareth's attitude personally, of course. Steve endeavored to do just that. It's not as if the man would ever change his mind, not when the line between pirate and naval officer was so clearly drawn. Still, it rankled. This was no stranger. This was someone Steve had trusted to serve under him once. And beneath the skin roiled such a loathing. What else had Steve missed while in command?

"He's right though," Eddie continued. "You do speak too freely. Names are a particularly valuable currency. You'd be wise to keep them to yourself."

His voice was colored with foreboding and… reluctance? It was strange enough that Steve found himself searching Eddie's face. Not that his stoic countenance gave anything away. Steve's skin prickled – Eddie was hiding something too, some other type of valuable currency. And why shouldn't he? Why would Pirate Captain Eddie Munson reveal every card in his hand to the Navy Commodore he's holding hostage?

Why did that bother Steve?

The ghost of a smile touched Eddie's lips as he let Steve watch him, and something softened in Steve despite himself. "Get to work, Harrington," Eddie told him warmly.

Then he was striding over to the helm, and Steve kicked himself into gear. With his hands on deck, the Tigress was on the open water in no time.

…

Steve felt the change in the winds long before grey clouds gathered and darkened on the horizon. He didn't need to warn Eddie of the coming storm – Gareth was at the captain's side as soon as Steve had marked the turning weather. Steve didn't have time to wonder at the way Eddie dismissed Gareth and kept the Tigress on the current course, directly into the grim-looking clouds.

The clouds spread enough to hide the setting sun, but enough light remained to see the blurred sky ahead that signified lashing rain. The water grew choppy, tossing the ship jerkily so that even the more seasoned sailors struggled to stay on their feet.

When they hit the storm in earnest, they were surrounded by night and soaking wet. Tall waves crashed onto the deck as rain beat against their backs ceaselessly. Though the hour grew late, no one slept. All hands were needed to hold the rigging tight. On the rare occasion Steve got the chance to look away from the rope he held fast and blink stinging water from his eyes, he could feel the ship moving quickly, the stormy current tugging the vessel westward.

"He's a fucking lunatic!" The red-haired girl – Max, Steve learned – screeched as she tightened her own grip on the rigging beside Steve. "He's sailing us to our goddamned watery graves!"

Steve pondered that. Though the ship rocked – hard – the Tigress remained firm. The worst of the wind and rain had passed, Steve guessed, and there was little else to do but ride out the rest of the storm. And this pearl of the royal navy would do it.

"We'll make it," Steve said aloud. "And we're catching up."

"Gods be damned, you sound just like the mad bastard," said Jeff, the gold-toothed pirate. Over the rushing water and wind, Steve couldn't tell if the comment was meant to be insulting or complimentary.

But before long, the night quieted. Without the storm, silenced blared in Steve's ears, and he shivered along with the rest of the crew in his sopping wet clothes. He retired to the barracks with the others, sans the captain who had his own quarters. The pirates aimed jovial elbows and jokes his way as if Steve were one of them. And after weathering Mother Nature's worst side by side, Steve supposed they had solidified some kind of camaraderie. The hammocks filled up quickly, and with aching muscles and salt in his hair, Steve let the snores of his comrades lull him to sleep.

"They didn't rest for long before reaching Isla de Muerta. The sun was high enough to reveal a dark-looking cove where a ship already sat anchored. Up close and in the daylight, the Hellfire proved menacing. The wood of the hull and deck was as black as the sails the furled lazily in the morning breeze. Something malevolent seemed to ooze from its planks, something that frightened the very ocean enough to hush.

The deck was empty. Steve assumed at least two Hellfire pirates remained to guard the ship, but docked as they were on a secret island in the middle of the Caribbean, he doubted they were at maximum vigilance.

According to Eddie, Captain Hargrove would have taken his prisoners along with the rest of his crew into the yawning caves. What they'd find within, Eddie was less certain of. Steve readied himself for battle and made for the pinnace. But he wasn't the only one doing so.

"What do you think you're doing?" Steve challenged, putting his hands on his hips.

"Uh, rescuing my sister and my governess, of course," Mike said, wrinkling his nose.

"Absolutely not," Steve said resolutely.

"Steve, you cannot be serious!" Dustin exclaimed. "We came all this way to help!"

"And help you have done," Eddie assured him. "But against this crew, we can't go in with pistols ablaze. We'll want stealth on our side to steal away the girls and sail away with them and the Hellfire without their notice. To do that, we'll need as small a shore party as possible."

"Well, I'm going," Jonathan interjected.

"As am I," Steve added.

"Excellent," Eddie nodded. "One man for the governor's daughter, one man for the governess, and one man for the ship."

"But you need me," Jane pointed out defiantly.

"Jane," Jonathan said with a hand on her shoulder. "You're who we want if it all goes wrong. You'll remain here and take action if the pirates emerge before we do. Got it?"

Jane frowned but nodded resolutely. Dustin and Mike continued their protests even as the three men piled into the pinnace and began to lower the lightboat onto the water.

"And if it does go wrong?" Gareth spoke up, eyeing Eddie sharply.

Eddie licked his lips. "Keep to the Code. You're in charge, first mate."

"He's in charge of my ship?!"

"My lady, be patient!" Eddie crooned up to the crew members leaning over the ship's railing. "When I relinquish command, the Tigress shall be yours, Miss Sinclair."

Her retort was cut off by the splash of them hitting the water. Somehow Steve was stuck in the back of the boat, rowing the oars and drawing them nearer to the cave, and he watched as the light of day was swallowed by its gaping mouth.

The work of rowing kept Steve occupied, and Jonathan was rarely one for conversation on a good day. But that didn't stop Eddie from jabbering on.

"She's handsome, isn't she? My ship. The Hellfire. In reach again at last. I didn't need the reminder, but she was worth it all. Stunning, beautiful, sweet…"

"So why do you remain in this boat?" Jonathan snapped eventually. "You could be stealing that ship instead of bothering the likes of us."

"Well, I intend to aid in your rescue, of course," Eddie said with mock offense. If Steve was facing them, he'd bet Eddie had placed an aghast hand on his chest. Steve didn't need to ask what Eddie was doing alongside them – if he could case the number of pirates in the cave, he could determine just how unmanned the Hellfire was outside. "And I'd like to see this famous treasure that you're so obsessed with."

"I'm not obsessed with treasure," Jonathan scoffed. "I'm no pirate."

A warm hand closed over Steve's shoulder, and he took the cue to cease rowing just in time for the boat to slide and come to a stop on the shore.

"Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate," Eddie said in a low voice. He hadn't moved his hand, and when Steve looked up at him, Eddie was staring at the ringed, pink-knuckled fingers that spanned the salt-caked white linen over the curve of Steve's shoulder.

"Eddie," Steve whispered, and Eddie startled, eyes wide and fingers tightening like they wanted to dig into Steve's bones.

Steve blinked. He'd never called Eddie by his first name before, regardless of how he referred to the man in his mind. He'd only meant to urge him to action, to execute their rescue mission, but perhaps the informality had angered the pirate?

"Let's go." Jonathan's insistent directive jarred both Steve and Eddie enough to get them out of the boat and crossing the dark sand.

Eddie took hold of their lantern and led the way through a narrow tunnel. The sound of jeering voices and cackles grew louder until the tunnel opened into a shallow lagoon. Eddie hid the lamplight and motioned them to stay low as they crept closer to the edge of the landing they'd arrived on.

The ceiling of the cavern was taller than a ship, and bits of it had caved in, sending sunlight dappling haphazardly across the lagoon. The water barely hit the shins of the dozens of pirates that gathered within it. They laughed together, slapping each other on the back. What were they celebrating?

When Steve looked deeper into the cavern, his heart sank. On an elevated bit of rock sat a giant stone chest filled with glittering gold pieces. Steve squinted. The gold seemed textured somehow, but he couldn't make out the pattern.

But what made Steve feel ill were the people gathered around the chest. A pirate with curly hair and an extravagant hat grinned maliciously at the crowd. Captain Billy Hargrove, Steve assumed. And beside him, held fast by two grubby-handed pirates, was—

"Nancy!" Jonathan gasped.

Both Eddie and Steve had to grab Jonathan around the waist and haul him out of sight, back into the tunnel.

"Pull yourself together, man," Steve growled once they were hidden from the mass of pirates. "We've got to be strategic about this. You can't just charge in there and make demands."

"But—"

"Nancy was there, but where was Miss Buckley?" Steve turned to Eddie, who seemed saner than Jonathan at the moment. "Did you see a second woman, Munson?"

Eddie frowned, but his brows were knitted together. "No. No, I did not."

"Could she be aboard the ship?"

"It's very possible," Eddie muttered distractedly. Then he reached a hand forward and pressed it into Steve's chest.

"What?" Steve floundered but then froze when he felt the medallion dig into his skin.

"Huh," Eddie declared. "Okay."

He lowered his hand and wandered toward the lagoon once more. Steve followed tensely.

"This medallion. The pirates want it." Steve realized. "But what does this have to do with Nancy?"

Eddie aimed a soft smile Steve's way. "You know you squint at the horizon? Not just the horizon – anything more than fifteen feet away from you. You get a wrinkle just there." He lifted a hand like he was going to touch Steve's face but then thought better of it. He refocused his gaze to the light of the lagoon, still hidden from their spot in the tunnel. "What I mean to say is your vision isn't so good, Stevie. You could probably do with some spectacles. You didn't see what hung around your lady love's neck?"

Steve didn't know what to unpack first. "What?"

If Eddie intended to elaborate, he didn't get the chance. There was a loud thwack, and suddenly Eddie was sprawled on the ground, hat askew and unmoving. Steve spun to discover Jonathan with his mouth twisted in fury and one of their boat's oars held high above his head, like he intended to—

"Whoa, hey!"

Steve managed to duck out of the way of the oar that Jonathan swung down to where his head once was. But he misjudged his step and tripped over one of Eddie's wayward legs. Steve fell hard on the rock. He ignored the sharp pain in his knees to try to fumble to his feet, but then there was a heavy knock to the back of his head and… blackness.

XXXXXX

This was… this was a sacrifice. Primal desperation had led to this belief that bloodshed was necessary to break whatever curse befell the pirates. Nancy didn't believe in magic, but it was hard to dispute that something distinctly unnatural was amiss with these pirates.

In the dark of the island cave, and even in the sparse sunlight that trickled into the space, the pirates stood whole, flesh hiding their innards like normal human beings. But Nancy knew what she saw now was false. An illusion exposed only by the moon, for some reason. These were monsters.

God, Nancy needed to read a book about this.

She likely would never get the chance. Andy and Carver had their fists clenched in the folds of her dress, ensuring she couldn't move despite her struggles. And Captain Hargrove was delivering a resounding speech to his crew, wielding a jagged knife as he spoke fervently.

"For too long, we suffered with thirst unquenched, hunger unsatiated, cravings unsatisfied. But now, with the last of the gold returned, and the blood of the last thief on these cursed shores, we will see an end to our torment. Let us delay no longer!"

Hargrove turned his icy gaze to Nancy, and the two pirates shuffled her forward, yanking her hands outward. Hargrove drew nearer, and his cloying cologne made it hard to breathe. This did feel remarkably similar to her fainting spell at Commodore Harrington's promotion ceremony. Her pulse pounded, and her chest felt tight, constricted, even though the tight grip was about her arms, not her waist.

Hargrove raised the knife and took hold of her wrist, keeping her still. Nancy shut her eyes, waiting for the blow. Would he slit her throat? Plunge the blade into her chest? At least they made Robin remain on the ship so that she wouldn't have to watch her perish.

Nancy yelped when the sharp sting came – not at her neck or her abdomen, but at the palm of her hand. Puzzled, Nancy opened her eyes in time for Hargrove to yank the medallion free from where it hung at her neck, snapping the string. She blinked when he slammed the gold into her hand, which was dripping with scarlet blood, she realized idly.

Hargrove grinned at Nancy's bewilderment. "Waste not," he declared, and he let his eyes roam over her figure, still draped in the prior evening's gown. Nancy fought a whimper – keeping her alive would hardly be a mercy.

When Hargrove deemed the medallion sufficiently soaked in blood, he closed her fingers over the gold and shoved her hand over the chest. He squeezed her wrist so that the bones grinded together, and Nancy let out a cry as she dropped the bloody medallion into the chest with its lookalikes.

Then there was silence as the pirates all waited. Many heartbeats passed before one of the voices in the crowd rang out.

"Did it work? I don't feel no different."

Hargrove rolled his eyes, drew his pistol, and fired. Nancy wasn't the only one to shout at the sudden bang. Then there were quiet murmurings as the pirates sought the target of the shot.

The pirate that had spoken gaped down at his shoulder, which had a smoking scorch mark on the jacket from where the bullet pierced him. Eventually, he closed his mouth and blinked at his compatriots.

"Hey, I'm okay," he called out. Then he aimed a scowl at Hargrove atop his platform. "He shot me!"

"The curse didn't break! You're wrong yet again, Hargrove!" someone else bellowed, and a chorus of discontent burbled, growing louder.

Hargrove yanked Nancy free from the other pirates and brought his face close to hers.

"Was your father Lonnie Byers?" he snarled, and furious spittle landed on Nancy's cheeks.

The chaos in the lagoon mounted, and Nancy watched the panic hidden under the anger burning in Hargrove's eyes with relish. "No," she told him with a smirk.

Hargrove roared in her face and then shoved her so that she fell off of the platform. Gravity kept her rolling down the rocky terrain until it leveled out into a pool far from the pirates. Nancy blinked, trying to note the many aches and pains from the tumble and their severity, when a pale face emerged, breaking the still surface of the water.

Nancy's mouth fell open, and a white hand surged forward, clamping over her mouth. It was cold and wet, and despite the callouses marring it, the skin was soft against her lips.

The face drew nearer, and Nancy's heart leaped as she took in the pointed chin, the pinched mouth, the sharp eyes.

She'd thought he was dead. She'd thought the pirates slaughtered him in the ravaging of Hawkins. She'd seen him fall and fail to rise. And now he was here.

Jonathan Byers didn't speak, just lifted a finger to his lips, and Nancy nodded. He was there to rescue her. They could escape the pirates once and for all. She needed no convincing to follow when he took her hand and pulled her beneath the water.

There was a tunnel, a pinnace, and, when Jonathan rowed them out of the cavern and into the daylight, there was the magnificent, regal sight of a naval ship.

"Robin," Nancy said as they floated past the Hellfire. "Robin, the governess. She was taken captive as well and she's still on the ship—"

"There is another rescue party," Jonathan told her tightly.

His voice sounded strange, but she imagined it was a difficult time tracking them down. She looked around and saw no other lightboats, but Robin and her rescuers may have already made it back to the ship.

The buzzing excitement of her escape fizzled when she was helped aboard the ship not by a stiff group of uniformed navy men but a crew of grubby, leering misfits.

"Oh, no," Nancy moaned. She backpedaled into Jonathan's chest hard enough that he grunted at the impact. "No, no, no, not more pirates."

"It's okay, Nancy," Jonathan said softly, gently rubbing her arms. She hadn't realized she was trembling. "We worked together to get here."

"B-but…" Nancy started. She wasn't even sure what protest to make. Then her eyes fell on a sheepish-looking boy who looked reluctantly pleased to see her. "Mike?"

"Hey, Nancy," he said with a weak wave.

"What are you doing here? And Dustin? Jane? What… what is this?"

Dustin had been grinning his usual gummy smile, but it faded quickly as he glanced around them. "Where's Steve? And Eddie?"

Nancy gaped at him. "Commodore Harrington?"

Jonathan's hands gripped a bit tighter around her arms. It was… too much like the pirates at the treasure chest. She shook herself free, and Jonathan released her easily. She needed to… she needed to think. What was a naval commodore doing working alongside pirates? Surely, he wouldn't stoop to such a level of criminality, of immorality, for her.

But… maybe he would. He'd proposed marriage to her after all. They hardly knew one another. She knew he was a good and just man. He'd be fair to her should they wed. But she assumed his desire for her was… just that. A wish for a pretty face and someone to call his own. She didn't think the offer had much to do with her at all. But… she could be wrong.

She rubbed a hand at her brow as she tried to sort through her thoughts and came to an awful revelation.

"Where's Robin? She's not here. You said there were other rescuers."

All eyes turned to Jonathan who winced at the attention. "They should be back by now," he muttered. "One man for Nancy, one for the governess, and one for the ship."

They sat in the quiet of the day at the pronouncement. A few eyes strayed to where the Hellfire bobbed idly. No one, friend nor foe, appeared on its deck.

"We're out of time," Jonathan declared, rolling his shoulders determinedly.

The crew tensed and looked to a round-faced man who looked familiar to Nancy.

"We keep to the Code," the man nodded grimly. "He who falls behind gets left behind."

"No!" Dustin shouted. "We can't leave them like this!"

"I can… I can do something…." Jane's eyes were filling with tears, and Jonathan stepped forward to hug his sister.

"They have each other," he told her firmly. "And they'll look after Robin."

"Move out," the man who must be the captain ordered.

"But… b-but…" Nancy was reeling. She was aboard a navy ship that was run by pirates. Jonathan was alive and rescuing her, and her brother and his little friends were here. And the commodore had been here too? And Robin. Robin was still in danger, but they were fleeing, abandoning her. This was… this felt wrong.

"You're shivering," Jonathan observed. He was several feet away, but Nancy still flinched as if he'd snuck up on her. "I'm sorry. I just… you're cold and you're bleeding. Would you like me to take you below to clean up?"

"Oh," Nancy breathed. She blinked down at the slice on her palm, which still weakly welled with blood, sending lazy crimson drips toward her fingertips. "Yes. Okay."

Hesitantly, as if she were a horse prone to spooking, Jonathan looped an arm around Nancy's shoulders and led her to the captain's chambers. The room was well-lit, and the four-poster bed was unmade. She remembered years ago when this room belonged to Steve Harrington, and it felt oddly voyeuristic to enter it now. Still, she let Jonathan shut the door behind him and guide her into a chair without protest.

Soon, the duvet was draped over Nancy like a bulky shawl, and Jonathan had prepared water and a rag and was sitting beside her. She didn't say a word as he carefully took her hand and dabbed at her wound with the wet cloth. Nancy bit back a hiss, and Jonathan didn't look up from his work, cleaning her hand.

"You lied earlier," Nancy said eventually.

Jonathan didn't answer right away. "About what?"

"They're not going to look after each other," Nancy said. "Commodore Harrington and the pirate. And they certainly won't be able to look out for Robin."

Jonathan let out a scoff. "You haven't seen them together. You'd be surprised how far your fiancé has fallen."

"I have not accepted the Commodore's proposal," Nancy frowned.

Jonathan finally met Nancy's gaze, and those sharp, perceptive eyes were… resigned. He knew she would say yes to Steve in the end. And that fact hurt him. Something zipped through her veins, something other than the sting of the washrag.

"How did you find me?" she asked.

"The pirate, Eddie Munson, knew where the ship made berth," Jonathan said with a shrug. He explained how the kids resolved to join him on his rescue mission, how they freed the pirate, how the pirate convinced Commodore Harrington to conspire to commandeer a ship with them, how the pirate rallied a crew, weathered a storm, and brought them directly to Isla de Muerta.

"He said it was his ship, the Hellfire?" Nancy wondered.

"That's what he said," Jonathan said. He turned the rag in his hands and tore a section of the dry end of it free. "He said Captain Hargrove mutinied and marooned him on an island. Still don't know how the guy got off said island, but he's here to tell the tale. Or… well, you know what I mean."

"So he knows of the curse," Nancy said.

"The what?"

It was Nancy's turn to share her story. She focused on what she learned of the undead pirates – their immortality, their exposure in the moonlight – rather than her own suffering. Jonathan watched her gravely like he heard what she refrained from saying anyway. When she finished, Jonathan sat quietly for a long moment and then started wrapping the makeshift dressing around her hand.

"You don't believe me?" Nancy realized dismally.

"Of course, I believe you," Jonathan said, shaking his head. "I just… I think you're right. Munson must know of this curse. And he didn't breathe a word of it to us. You'd think he'd warn us of this danger we faced before setting off on this voyage."

"Or he didn't care for your safety. He thought only of regaining his ship, no matter what casualties happened in his wake." Nancy had never met this Eddie Munson, but she liked the sound of him less and less by the minute.

"And breaking this curse involves… your blood and my medallion?" Jonathan punctuated the question by tying off the dressing. He gave a sympathetic wince at Nancy's flinch.

"Uh, well…" Nancy swallowed and lifted her chin, forcing the words out. "I didn't give them my real name. I… I told them my name was Nancy Byers."

Jonathan's eyes went wide. Slowly, he covered Nancy's hand with both of his own. "You did?"

"Yes." Nancy couldn't bear to spell out the rest of the puzzle. Not when Jonathan was so awestruck by the idea of her claiming his name. She rested her free hand over his wrist, running her thumb over the fragile bones there while he worked it out for himself. She watched the penny drop as his eyes darkened.

"It's not your blood they need," Jonathan said stiffly. "It's mine. It's mine because my father… my father was a pirate. He was one of them. And that pirate's blood, it runs in me too."

"Jon…" Nancy's heart bled at the anguish twisting Jonathan's face. He pulled his hands free and stood, facing away from her.

"Well, I knew my dad was a dirtbag – just didn't know the extent of it." Jonathan's voice seemed so far away.

"Please just…" Nancy had no idea what he must be feeling, but there was something desperate beating in her throat. "Just leave it, just leave them. It doesn't have to mean anything."

Jonathan aimed a small smile at Nancy. "I don't think a bunch of zombie pirates are going to let this go so easily, do you?" Jonathan rubbed a weary hand over his face. "I just… I keep thinking of Will, my brother. Where did my dad take him? Was he- was he scared at the end? Were these the pirates that… anyway. Anyway. Eddie Munson must have known all along. As soon as he heard my name."

He cut a grim figure in the lamplight. Misery tugged at him so that he looked as if he would fall to his knees. Yet his spine was ramrod straight, fists curled tightly, stubbornly determined to stay strong despite this shattering realization. That spirit in him, that fire, Nancy was drawn to it like a moth. She yearned to reach out and touch him but forced herself to remain where she was.

"What will you do?" Nancy asked. She dreaded his response but she needed to know. She ached to know. Not just this answer, but everything about this brilliant man before her.

Jonathan did not say anything. There wasn't time. Shouts began above deck, and eventually above the clamor, Nancy could understand their alarm.

The Hellfire was in pursuit.