The meeting with Gills had gone about as well as expected. Killian had been sentenced to 12 strokes, with the cane. It could have been worse, he knew. But that didn't make this easier. Didn't calm the constant twisting in his gut, the need to empty his stomach over the side of the ship.
As they'd walked away from the ship's master at arms, Killian had made one last desperate attempt to right things with Liam.
"Li, I just – " he'd started, but once again he hadn't gotten the chance to finish.
"I don't want to hear it, Killian. You're on your own for this one."
The words had shocked Killian so intensely that he hadn't been able to process them at first. On your own. He'd never been on his own before. Liam had always been there. Even when he was angry. Even when he was disappointed. He was there. Had he finally pushed his brother too far? Was this where his brother left him, like his father had before?
He stood there, still trying to process his brother's words, as the crew gathered to watch the punishment. Most of them looked bored, but a few looked amused. The sight made him sick, and he dropped his eyes to the floorboards. How heartless did someone need to be to enjoy watching something like this?
The thought reminded him of the darkness he'd felt, sitting alone in the small closet. He hadn't been able to understand how someone could do that, either.
Killian shivered desperately at the thought, unable to calm himself. His arms wrapped tightly across his body, as if in an attempt to protect himself from what was coming next. But, of course, the attempt was useless. He might have been able to maintain his composure if Liam had been there to support him, but his brother wasn't.
He was still there, of course. But the disappointment on Liam's face, the way he'd turned away when Killian had tried to explain... It had never happened before, and it was breaking his heart. How was this fair? He didn't deserve this. He'd been trying so desperately to obey, to stay in line, to keep out of trouble. To make Liam proud. And yet, with no fault of his own, here he was.
His eyes glanced at Liam again, of their own accord, as though desperate for some compassion. For just a moment, his brother met his gaze, and then he looked away a second time. Killian felt as though his heart cracked at the gesture, felt as though he could simply fall to the deck and weep. Clenched his teeth harshly against the thought.
He wouldn't cry. Wouldn't.
Liam had taken so much for him, he could take this one thing.
And his brother would forgive him for his supposed foolishness. Eventually. He hoped.
"Drop yer drawers," the master at arms stated simply. He wasn't an unfair man - perhaps why the captain had hired him - but he also had no tolerance for disobedience. Meaning Killian had gotten on his bad side relatively quickly, though he'd tried desperately to undo that reputation in more recent days. And now all that work had gone out the window.
Killian's fingers trembled harshly as he moved to obey, attempting to undo his belt, his stomach churning all the more harshly as he did so. He found himself trying desperately to shove back the all-too-recent memories of this morning, his body beginning to shut down at the thought.
He didn't realize he'd frozen, fingers halfway through their task, until Gills' voice - harsher this time - broke through his thoughts.
"Get on with it boy! Unless ye want me to add more strokes to yer sentence."
Killian clenched his eyes shut for just a moment, willing his fingers to behave. Reminding himself that this wasn't last night, that wasn't going to happen again. He just needed to get through this and then he could move on.
He managed to get his fingers working, though the trembling didn't subside. It still took a long moment before he managed to undo the belt, to let the pants drop to the ground, to bare himself.
For the second time.
It didn't matter that this had happened before, didn't matter that any boy facing punishment went through this...he just felt so exposed. So terribly exposed.
"Bend over the cannon, lad." This time, the harshness was gone from the master's voice, and the earlier firmness was all that remained.
Again, when Killian forced himself to lean over the cannon, he felt a wave of shame. Of exposure. It was all he could do to force the contents of his stomach to remain there, knowing that the last thing he needed was another source of embarrassment.
12 strokes. Just 12. And then this is over.
The words ran through his mind on repeat. He had handled worse before. But those other times, he hadn't already been stiff from a night on the floor. Hadn't already been unbearably sore from things he desperately didn't want to remember.
Those other times, he'd had Liam.
Killian choked back a sob at the thought, reminding himself that he couldn't cry before the punishment had even begun. He was stronger than that. And he'd never hear the end of it if he did.
It seemed an eternity that he lay there, across the cannon. His stomach knotted tighter with every passing moment. Once the caning had begun, he could always handle it. But the waiting, the anticipation of the sting of that first stroke - that was always the worst. Killian closed his eyes again, tightening his fists on each side of the cool metal.
It'll be over soon. Soon. Just 12.
He heard the swish of the wooden rod before he felt it, tensed automatically in anticipation of the first strike. Bit down hard on his tongue, reminding himself that he wouldn't cry out. Not with the first stroke, at least.
But the events of the day had weakened him drastically, and the sting of the cane broke whatever had remained of his spirit. Any tendrils of defiance left, and he choked out a small cry. Almost immediately, he shut his mouth again, embarrassed at his own weakness.
One.
And then the cane fell for the second time, drawing another sharp whimper from him, unbidden. His backside, already aching, began to sting desperately. Killian dug his nails into his palms, trying to keep himself from reaching back. From doing something to assuage the pain.
Two.
The strokes continued after that and, in the fog of pain, he lost count. Which made it worse, as he lost the ability to know when the punishment would end, when the pain would subside.
It was all he could do to keep from pleading, begging with Gills to stop. To stop.
To stop.
His face was wet, tears and sweat mingled until it wasn't clear which took up more space. His damp hair fell straggled into his eyes, but he didn't have the strength - or desire - to raise a hand and move it. He'd forgotten about any embarrassment, about anything other than the pain of the present moment. Of the white-hot fire that seemed tattooed into him, some part of him wondering if it would ever stop.
Another.
Another.
Killian knew he'd taken at least seven, eight, perhaps more.
Hopefully more.
The pain seemed to reach a crescendo with the next stroke. Killian heard a scream, and it took a moment for him to realize it had come from him. He didn't bother to respond, didn't bother to bite his tongue against his weakness. Found that, for the first time, he'd given up caring. All he wanted was for this to be over.
Another.
And then there was a break, a long moment without a new stroke, and Killian wondered if it might actually be finished. Even in the absence of the cane, the flames remained, seeming to only worsen with each motion, each small movement.
And then Gills spoke again: "You're dismissed for the day, Jones. I expect to see you back on deck - on time - in the morning."
The words seemed to come from far away, and it was a long moment before the realization that his punishment had ended settled into Killian. But he didn't want to move, didn't want to face the pain that he knew would come when he did.
He had never needed to do this without Liam. His brother had always been there to save him, to help him up, to get him back to the bunk they shared. Had always been there to listen to his tears, to hold him while he sobbed.
Killian didn't know how much time had passed before he found just enough motivation to try and move. The pain, which had only barely subsided, came rushing back with full force. He let out a muffled sob, feeling fresh tears roll down his cheeks as he did. He'd never felt this kind of pain, despite taking far worse canings in the past.
Reminded himself not to think about that, not to dwell on why, not to.
But he couldn't help the tears, which seemed unwilling to subside. Couldn't help the way he still shook, trembled dreadfully. As though his own body was defying him, defying his attempts to stay strong.
Finally, he managed to stand up, holding tightly to the cannon as his knees buckled. Forced himself to breath through the pain, to stay upright. To not make anymore of a fool out of himself than he already had.
But he didn't know how he would get back to his bunk, didn't think he could. He could barely stand on his own, after all the abuse his body had suffered today.
Killian watched for a long moment, as his tears fell onto the surface of the cannon, trying desperately to gather some remnant of strength that he didn't think he had. Something to get him off the deck and out of the gaze of the crew.
And then Liam was there, and Killian lost all will to stay strong. His brother rested an arm across his back, under his arms, helping him up. Lifted his pants just high enough so that Killian didn't need to bend over too far to finish doing them. The rough fabric burned his raw skin and he bit down on his tongue again, tasting blood in his mouth. The taste was familiar and sickly comforting.
His fingers still struggled to do up his belt, and he finally left it undone.
"We'll go slow," Liam said softly, his earlier anger gone. Killian couldn't tell if he was simply hiding it until Killian was better, or if he had let it go entirely, but he forced himself not to worry about it. He was here, and right now that was all that mattered.
Killian nodded slightly, leaning into his brother. He was quite sure, now, that he wouldn't have been able to do this without him; his legs trembled too hard to hold his weight on their own. Even with Liam's help, every step sent streaking agony through him. His face was still wet, despite the wind working to dry his tears.
When they finally got below, Liam helped Killian onto the bed, before immediately standing back up. Killian's head shot up at the movement, his hand automatically reaching to grab hold of his brother's trousers, to keep him from leaving.
Liam pulled away sharply and Killian flinched, another wave of fire shooting down him.
"Liam, please don't go," he managed to whisper, the words holding a kind of frantic plea that he wasn't able to hide.
But his brother shook his head, and Killian felt another wave of pain - though not physical this time - crash into him, bury itself deep into his heart.
"I couldn't just leave you up there, Killian, though you might have deserved it. But I'm not going to stay here and comfort you, either. You went and did exactly what I told you not to, and I'm damn well sick of it. I do whatever I can to keep you out of trouble, but how the hell am I supposed to do that when you deliberately go and find ways to get yourself punished?" Liam's words came out in a long stream of frustration and disappointment, before his brother took a harsh breath and turned away. "You caused this, so you can deal with it by yourself, this time."
Killian felt the tears multiply at Liam's words, felt his heart fracturing. Liam was his everything, his everything. All he had. His world. And his brother's disappointment was somehow more agonizing than all the pain flooding his body.
It was even worse because he had been trying so desperately to make Liam proud, to mind his brother's words, to behave. And he couldn't tell him that, couldn't tell him what had truly happened.
Besides that, there was the small voice in his head that told him it was his fault, anyway. That he did deserve it. That he didn't deserve anyone's sympathy, even Liam's. It was a voice that had always been there, though it had only grown with the events of the previous night.
That didn't stop him from whispering one last plea, certain that if Liam left him he might break down entirely. "I - Liam, I'm sorry. But, please. Don't punish me further. Please don't."
Killian saw, then, that Liam was shivering slightly, though he couldn't quite fathom why. Perhaps it was just the cold. Either way, his brother didn't immediately respond. Seemed entirely unsure of what he should do.
After a long moment, his brother seemed to resolve himself, though when he spoke there was a kind of broken emotion to his words. "No, Killian. I said my piece. It's clear that you don't care what I have to say, so why should it matter to you if I stay or not?"
Liam didn't wait for his response, after that, but simply turned and left. The door closed behind him, leaving the room dark.
Killian sat, frozen, as the door shut behind his brother. All he felt was pain, emotional as much as physical. What made it worse was that he understood why Liam had left. He'd always struggled with disobedience, with an inability to simply tow the line. Had never been able to truly take Liam's warning to heart. And now it was coming back to hurt him.
After a long moment, Killian lay his head back on the bed, the small movement sending shockwaves through him. Everything in him wished, desperately, that Liam would change his mind. That his brother would return. But he knew it was simply wishful thinking.
The thought brought the tears back to his eyes, though they had barely left.
For the first time, Killian lay on his stomach, sobbing into his pillow, alone. For the first time, Liam wasn't there. The thought made his stomach curl and he tried desperately to force it from his mind, knowing he couldn't handle both the pain and the overwhelming weight of his brother's disappointment.
Every part of him ached. Just getting to his bed had been, perhaps, the worst struggle he'd ever faced. Now, the thought of ever moving again made his head spin.
But, somehow, the thought of Liam's disappointment was still worse.
Liam had always been there for him, every time. He'd sat beside him after every beating, let Killian lay his head on his lap. He'd reminded him that things would get better, that this wasn't his fault.
Every time. Except this one.
Some part of Killian had hoped desperately that Liam would simply forgive him once the caning was over, that he wouldn't be able to handle the sight of his brother in pain. But it seemed that he truly did believe that Killian deserved it, this time. That he wasn't willing to make this anymore bearable.
If only he knew that this was the time Killian needed him the most. That, after everything, he was barely holding it together.
That he had never wished for death, more than he did in this moment. That the only thing that might take even the slightest bit of the sting was Liam's presence.
Without it, all that was left were his tears and the bitter grip of self-loathing that hadn't left him since the man had locked him in the cubby, only this morning. And while neither were pleasant companions, they haunted him as he finally drifted to sleep.