Trigger Warning: This chapter contains dark themes, including sexual assault of a minor. Proceed with caution.

Killian felt as though he might fall over on his way to the bunk he shared with Liam, the events of the day seeming to hit him all at once, his eyelids feeling as though they weighed a hundred pounds. There would certainly be no reading tonight. Indeed, a significantly large part of him wanted to simply lie down on the wooden deck, rather than needing to make the - admittedly short - trip below. But he knew that sleeping on deck could only bring trouble, and he'd promised Liam to come right to bed, so he forced himself into the shadowy belly of the ship.

He'd drifted almost aimlessly down a few hallways by the time he realized he must have made a wrong turn in his brain-dead state. Fingers ran across his eyes, as though trying desperately to expel just enough exhaustion to make it to his bed.

His hand had barely lifted from his face when something locked tightly around his wrist, knocking Killian back to a semblance of reality. Automatically, he jerked away from whatever had hold of him, but the grip was too strong. In the darkness, he could barely make out the large, shadowy form. Had no idea who had assaulted him.

Opened his mouth to protest, to scream, to do something, but found it immediately covered by a rough hand.

"Make a sound, do anything to alert anyone, and it'll be your brother who'll pay for it," a deep voice threatened, shocking Killian into immediate silence. His heart throbbed desperately against his chest and he found himself going quite still, partially of his own accord and partially out of an immediate panic. Even in his terror, he knew that he couldn't do anything that might endanger Liam.

After a long moment, the hand lifted from his mouth. "Ah, good. A smart one." The chuckle that came after the words was strikingly ominous. Goosebumps rose, unbidden, all along Killian's spine, streaking down along his arms. He tensed, desperate to keep himself from shaking, to appear unafraid.

The man - it was most certainly a man, not that there were generally women on board - dragged him by the wrist into the room to his right. Killian recognized the small storage cubby, realized he had only been a few doors away from his room. From Liam.

Realized that whatever this man had planned for him, in this tiny room, couldn't be good.

"What do you want?" Killian managed to bite off, trying - and failing - to choke back the waves of panic streaking through him. He'd heard, on occasion, of what sometimes happened to young boys, when crews were trapped at sea for long periods of time. But, despite his many failings, Captain Finch had made it very clear that such behaviour wouldn't be tolerated aboard his ship. And Killian had, perhaps naively, not thought to worry about it. Now, though, all those eavesdropped conversations came rushing back at him, and he felt like he might be sick.

The room was far too dark to make anything out, which made the man's voice all the more terrifying, when he finally spoke. "I think you know."

Killian shivered involuntarily, panic streaking through him. The desire to scream was getting greater, but he was still utterly terrified of what might happen to Liam if he made a sound.

"You - the captain - you can't - " his voice was barely a whisper, but the syllables he did manage to string together were so insensible that it barely mattered.

"Can't I? What are you going to do about it?" The man shoved him back against the wall with the words, and Killian could feel the larger man's body pressed against his. Could feel the warmth of the man's breath on his face. "Hmm?"

Clenching his eyes shut, Killian turned his head away. The man had him, and he knew it. Liam was Killian's world, his everything. His own life might not have been a terrible threat, but the thought that his actions could condemn his brother? There was no worse thought, not even the panic that rose in him at the knowledge of what was about to happen.

"Answer me, boy," the man practically snarled. "What are you going to do about it?"

His body was shaking now, despite his best efforts to keep still. The panic rose at the man's harsh tone and he felt himself go mute, unable to procure even a single syllable. He felt paralyzed, frozen. Weak.

The darkness concealed the man's raised hand, leaving Killian unaware of the punishment until he'd already been struck. He yelped, before shooting up a hand to cover his own mouth, eyes widened. His cheek burned, but the pain brought him back to reality. Just enough to respond to the man's repeated question.

"Nothing. I'm not going to do anything," he breathed, finding just enough air to choke out the words before his chest convulsed again.

"That's what I thought."

With that, the man shoved him back against the wall. Killian closed his eyes again, willing his mind to shut this out. He'd learned to detach himself from a beating, as much as possible. He told himself he could do the same now. Had to, if he wanted to get through this. If he wanted to come out the other side with any semblance of hope left. Not that he had much to begin with.

Killian was left in a shaking, teary-eyed puddle on the floor of the storage cubby.

Weak. Idiot. How bloody stupid are you?

The words ran in a loop through his head, as he tried to muster up the ability to force his trembling body out of the room.

What the hell were you thinking, wandering the halls at night? This is your fault. You deserved it. And now you'd better keep your mouth shut. Can't let Liam pay the price for your foolishness.

It seemed to take an eternity before he managed to raise himself up, unsure if his unsteady legs would be able to hold him. To slip his belt back in place, fingers trembling. He was thankful, now, for the darkness. The blackness that would cover any tear tracks criss-crossing his face, any bruises on his wrists or cheek. Not that anyone else should be up this late.

He almost broke into another round of tears, when he tried to open the storage door and found it locked. Why was this man, who he still hadn't placed, so intent on torturing him? And how did he expect Killian to get out of the closet without alerting anyone to the fact that something had happened?

Killian's newfound hatred for himself only grew at the thought, at the knowledge that he had better bloody well come up with something, because he wasn't going to put Liam in danger over this. He wouldn't. Wouldn't.

But his mind felt like a mush, foggy and drained of any ability to think of anything at all. Beyond his own stupidity, at least. Beyond the pain in his wrists, and cheek, and...other regions. Beyond the overwhelming need to break down in tears.

Unable to help himself, Killian found himself giving into the latter. Muted sobs shook his shoulders as he lowered himself to the ground once again, leaning against the closet door. He would have taken a hundred beatings over this. A thousand. Any number at all. But what had happened had happened, and he had been too weak to stop it. He would need to live with it, now.

For a moment, then, he found himself wondering if the man had locked him in so that he could return. At the thought, Killian's body seized up again, his lungs forgetting how to draw air. His vision going briefly black, though he could barely see a thing anyway. When he finally managed to suck in a breath, he could feel his heart beat. Forced himself to focus on it, to count each violent tremor. To remind himself that he was still alive. That he was alive. That Liam was alive.

When he'd regained a semblance of control, he shuffled to the other side of the tiny space, eyeing the door. If they came back, there was nothing he could do to stop it. Just like there had been nothing he could do the first time.

Weak.

The single word cut him, delved into him, threatened to break him. To shatter him completely.

Killian closed his eyes again, clenching his jaw tightly against it. Reminded himself of Liam's constant lectures, constant reminders to be strong, to push through. That they would get out of this.

Right now, Killian didn't believe it for a second.

The earlier exhaustion he had felt had been multiplied a hundredfold, but the terror that still lay in his chest wouldn't allow him to sleep. Some part of him wondered if what might be waiting for him in his dreams would be worse than this, anyway. He'd struggled with nightmares even before his father had left them here.

They'd only been worse since, and he'd been mocked mercilessly by the men because of it. Had woken too many times to his own screams, to helpless tears streaking his face.

Liam had always been there.

This time, he wasn't. Couldn't be. Could never be.

Killian choked on the thought, fingers tightening into little balls at his sides, eyes clenching as tightly shut as he could manage.

He stayed like that, trying desperately to fight his demons, until the morning light crept into the cubby.