Wanted: Captain Remy LeBeau

Remy stood on a high platform in the centre of a small, dirty and crowded towne square. The rope to his right, and the hangman to his left. Guards had been placed around him with their hands on the hilts of their swords. Staring past the mix of angry and overjoyed people to focus on the tall wooden gates of the square, waiting. He'd wish the noose had been defective, but he knew Carlington wouldn't let him off that easy. He was clean and given a shirt and pants to wear, he figured as a mercy gift. The emotions from the townspeople alone refused to let him suffer the anguish of eye contact. But, he stood there, hands tied in front of him and feet chained at the ankles. His hair blew slightly in the breeze, several strands caressed his left cheek.

The hangman was a man dressed in black, with a black hood over his face. He carried a sword on his left hip that seemed familiar to Captain beside him. Not quite as tall as Remy, but he was certainly more muscled than the lanky Cajun. He stood still and waited, listening to the Duke's words and focusing his eyes on two in the crowd. As if the sun wasn't hot enough in the early morning, he could feel the fever that eminated from the captain as if a perfume graced him. Curiosity waned on him, but he stood still and waited.

Carlington stood in front of him, ushering the mass of people to stare at the infamous pirate that he had caught. "......Like his father 8 years ago, the boy pirate, LeBeau now stands accused of the very same sentence his father has been convicted of." Turning and gesturing to Remy, the Duke continued. "This young man hasn a n a prisoner of our hospitality once before, but this time.... we will return the favour of his slipperiness in the form of something more permanent."

As Carlingtontinutinued to drum up unclear falseties between truths, Remy had begun to feel even more weak and dizzy. Silently groaning and locking his body to a stiffness as to not let the people see him suffer, he'd wished it to be over. The slithering in his belly made his stomach churn as his head ached. The fever rose and he paled for a moment. Wincing and moaning again as the Duke had finished his talking, he pushed his empathy out into the crowd. Among hateful people and joyous laughters and cheers, and indifferencies, he found what he had been hoping for.

Screams of people cheering had brought Remy out of his musings. He turned to see the Duke facing him and smiling at him. The look Carlington concealed from the crowd and visible only to Remy, was enough to make the young man's skin crawl right off. Remy shivered slightly and waited to be hissed at by the man before him. But, the man only leaned closer to him and whispered something into his ear.

"I shall miss you, my boy. But, don't worry, your Captain Logan will be a joyous encore." Carlington winked and smiled as if pleased with himself. Tug tog to his left, and strolling back to the far right side to stand beside his daughter, on the platform, he stopped for a moment to listen as there had been a change in the crowds cheering. Grinning to himself he turned around and nodded to the hangman.

Remy gulped calmly as the man to his left nudged Remy into the noose. His heart began to pound in his chest, causing his ears to ring. By this, he hadn't cared what came next, only that it'd be over soon. The squirming was becoming more and more less tolerable. He felt sick and was beginning to lose his grip on hiding it from the crowd. Straightening as he caught a stagger, he felt for his salvation, again.

---------------------------

Tristan and Logan were dressed in plain towns' clothing and stood amongst the crowd. Brown pants and white shirts covered their bodies as long capes concealed their swords and pistols. Long brimmed hats concealed their faces from being recognised. It was to be imagined that some poor two souls were off somewhere, if not unconscious then gutted and dipped into the drink. Concealed by a layer of bloodthirsty crowd, they watched and waited for the moment when the merged group of crews were in place. Logan stared at the Duke and his daughter as they stood together, while Tristan had been fixed solely on the Captain in the noose.

"Change of plans." Logan mumbled under his breath, not breaking his stare oe yoe young woman beside the Duke. "Don't change the direction, just the players."

Tristan turned to the man to his right. "What are you talking about?" A quizzical look graced the words. Following Logan's line of sight, he smiled and voiced his thought. "The girl...?"

"The girl." Logan smiled, eerily.

"But, we still need to get Remy out the noose." Refocusing on the young man who had paled even more than a moment ago. "Something's not right with him." Concern caked his voice and forced Logan to finally turn to stare at the young man on the platform.

Logan inhaled and analyzed the scent for a moment. "Fever. And, somethin else...."

Tristan's brow furrowed as he glanced over at his partner. "What else....?"

"Dunno. But, somethin." Logan turned back to the Duke and watched as the girl whispered something to the Duke before turning and making her way down the stairs to ask a guard for something. He saw his chance. "Play time." Keeping his voice low as he started moving through the crowd, making his way towards the girl.

Tristan grinned. "Right." He said to himself and nodded to the hangman who had returned his stare to him. Making his way forward, he glanced over and saw Logan, in plain clothing, grab the girl by the left arm and stab a silver claw of his left hand at the girl's side. He returned his attentions to the Captain in the noose and prayed he made it in time.

--------------------------

"Calm yerself, Captain. You won't swing today." Whispering from under the hood, into Remy's ear as he adjusted the rope.

Remy smiled, tiredly. "Bout time, Will."

"Aye, sir." The man patted Remy's back in acknowledgement. "Don't worry, Captain. You just hang in there a bit longer."

Giving Will a glance out of the corner of his eye, he groaned again, but not at the joke. "Where's Logan an' Tristan?" The pain had taken over and he was no longer able to hide it.

Will was silent a moment. The Duke had given the word to pull the lever, and Will was at a stand still. As weak as the Captain was, he'd surely kill him if Tristan was a second late. "Be ready, Captain." Keeping his voice in whispers before tapping the stick lightly, but hard enough to let Remy know what was about to happen.

Remy closed his eyes and waited, holding his breath.

The lever pulled easily and the door opened with a loud thud, causing Remy to drop shortly and jerk in a stop as he dangled there. A voice from below whispered up to them.

"I've got you, Captain." Tristan held tightly to Remy's ankles and lifted up onto his tiptoes to hold the Captain up a safe distance from being strangled. "Will!" He called and nodded for the man in black to cut the rope to release Remy.

An arm wrapped around his waist and held him as the rope was cut and fell slack around his neck. A warm breath tickled his right ear as a whisper told him he was alright. He hurt. His eyes had refused to open, but his ears had caught every sound that was made afterwards.

The crowd had staggered back in horror at the daring rescue, and the guards' attempt to stop them. People scattered this way and that, screaming madly in chaos. Two children in the crowd, boy and girl, huddled closely and stood there in absolute awe at the display.

Guards had surrounded the three men on the platform, and the Duke merely stood aside and clapped in amusement. Tristan had come up through the hole to help Will guard Remy, with drawn swords and evil sneers.

"Well done, gentlemen," Carlington stopped clapping and took a step forward. "But, I must admit, your little charade was merely a postponement. The boy is half-dead, already." He smiled to himself.

"Father!" A girl's voice screamed from atop the gates. A firm hand held the back of her neck as a sharp claw pressed at her right side. Her long brown hair had been in curls that twisted in columns down her back. Her high collar had kept his bare hand from touching her. The tight bodice of her pink dress with a wide ruffled skirt was doing it's best to protect her from the cold silver claw. Both white-gloved hands reached up to grasp the hand at her neck and try to wriggle out of it. No avail.

Carlington held his breath as he looked up and saw Logan holding his daughter on the edge of the wall. "What do you expect to accomplish, Logan? Kill my daughter, you'll be next in the noose." He called.

Logan grinned, evily. "Let the boy go, or the girl's gonna get a free flyin lesson." He called back and pushed the girl so that her body leaned at an angle over the edge, giving her a good view of the ground below.

She screamed and struggled more.

Carlington thought for a moment before sighing and ordering the men to lower their weapons from the three. "Lower them, now!" Averting his eyes and fuming at the defeat, he added. "Let them pass."

Logan smiled. "Yer daddy aint as dumb as I thought he was." He said, under his breath.

"He'll never beg for mercy to a scum like you." The girl stopped struggling to reply in the same manner.

"Now release my daughter!" Carlington looked back up to Logan and glared.

Logan's gruff voice rang out over the square as he hoisted the girl back to him and held her in front of him. "Just as soon as they're on the ship and safe." Yanking her by the neck, he led her back down the same way they hattentten up there.

-------------------------

Remy had leaned on Will's shoulder to rest as they began to move towards the stairs, past the Duke. His eyes remained shut and his fever was rising, again. He was so tired and his legs hurt when they moved. His breath came in short pants as the sweat rolled off of him. Will on his left and Tristan on his right, they descended down the stairs, slowly and gained a distance before stopping to let Tristan pick him up and carry him back to the ship, in his arms.

Several guards came to stand around the Duke and watch the three men exit the gate and lose themselves in the crowds of the town. "Follow them to the dock. Make sure my daughter is returned unharmed." Carlington ordered with hardly a rise in tone.

"Aye sir!" Was the unisoned reply before four of six guards left to follow the men to the Gambler's Spice.

Carlington had made his way back to the house to gather his own sowrd and a few more guards before making his own way to the docks to barder for his daughter's return. He was more than angry, not at his daughter but at the fact he had let them take her without so much as a warning.

He hadn't told anyone that she had often felt unwell and had kept her body mostly covered at all times due to a mysterious condition that had spiked as she had hit the age of 13. His only concern was that nothing happened to out her condition. On the other hand, if her gloves had slipped off, and she had been backed into the right corner, she could easily take care ois pis problems.

Thoughts of his daughter filled his head as he hurried through endless corridors and rummaged through gun cabinets and desk drawers in search of powders and pellets. A long shiny blade tucked into his belt, thumped at his leg deftly as he hurried to the front door. A golden handle that seemed to have 3 braided and bowed-out strands coming togetheom lom left, right and middle of the hilt to the pommel of the handle.

--------------------------

Logan tossed the girl up onto the deck, from the gangplank, and watched her sprawl against the floor before grabbing her right arm and hoisting her up to her feet. He had followed her onto the deck and then dragged her below to the brig and slammed the cage door shut behind her. He smirked and scoffed as she turned around and spat countless obscenities at him. Leaving the room, to go back uptop to wait for Remy, he began laughing at her words and agreeing with her that he was everything she named.

Coming up the steps from below, Logan returned to his cabin to change clothing and retrieve a cigar from his table while he waited. As he opened the door and stepped back out on deck, he saw the three men coming up the gang plank. His head tilted to one side as his eyes fell on Tristan carrying Remy in his arms. He inhaled and became unhappy with his nose' results of the scents coming off of the boy.

As if on a cue, Logan, Will, and Tristan turned to see numerous guards and the Duke, himself, crowd the dock around the ship's gangplank. Will made quick in hoisting the plank up before they could come aboard, while Tristan handed Remy to Logan and told him to go to the Captain's quarters.

"Thank you for the freedom, your highness. I'm sure the Captain will appreciate that when he wakes up." Tristanled led as a great wind came from the town and pushed the ship out of port, as the crew underneath decks raised the anchors.

Carlington glared and fumed his rage at the First Mate. "Where's my daughter?!" His voice rang loud against the sound of the gusts that pushed at the sails and the widening distance that was coming between them. "Harm her, and I will never cease in my actions to destroy the lot of you!"

Tristan smiled and raised a hand to wave back as he called. "Your highness, your daughter is acquainting herself with our brig. Once we are out of your waters, we will set her in a boat and send her on her merry way back to you. Good day, sir!" Having said that, he stopped waving and hurried back into Remy's quarters to check on him and find out what was wrong.

Remy lie on his bed, tossing and turning at the painful squirmat rat refused to stop. Eyes tightly shut, fever rising and arms permanently wrapped around his stomach, he was in serious pain but was unable to describe it to anyone who asked. He rolled away from Logan and buried his face into the pillow as he curled up into a ball.

"Has he said what was wrong?" Tristan asked as he came to stand beside Logan, who stood at the foot of Remy's bed. The look of concern finally washed over his face and he seemed to instantly age as he stared back at the curled young man.

Logan shook his head but continued to stare at the young man. "Mumbled somethin about 'absinth' and a 'garden'. My hearin's good, but not so good as to understand thickly accented, fever-ridden babble. He needs somethin to break this fever, or he aint gonna make it."

Tristain nodded. "I'll fetch some water. We can at least cool his body down as best we can." He turned around as Storm had opened the door and closed it behind her. Their eyes met and they both nodded to each other.

"Alcohol. Pure alcohol, to soak his sheets in. If that doesn't work, we rub a cloth of it on his skin." She stated, calmly staring at the young man on the bed. He hair had been pulled back into a low braid that snaked down her back. Long, golden breeches hung low on her slender hips while a tight, black leather bodice vest had barely covered her bosom. She turned back to Logan and stared at him in almost disbelief that he was there. "I'd have thought you'd be in a ponton(1), by now. Why grace the boy with more troubles?"

Logan snorted and smirked a bit. "I never had much patience for bein caught fer one o' those." His stare met her liquid brown eyes, before turning back to watch Remy twitch and moan in his delirium. "First thing's first. Break the kid's fever. Then, decide where I'll go."

--------------------------

Storm had gone down into the hold to fetch some alcohol, a bucket and a cloth in case the soaking didn't work. Boxes, bags, pouches and baskets had been huddled in a far corner to the right of the hold, as there had been a door on the left, leading to the brig. She had searched them all and finally finding a bottle of alcohol in the last crate, next to the buckets and mops. She held the bottle up to the swaying light of the lamp that hung from the low ceiling of the room and smiled.

"Hey! Hey, let me outta here!" A young, feminine voice called to her from the next room. "When mah father gets hold o' this blasted ship, he's gonna--" Her voice trailed off as an angry Storm stepped closer to the cage.

"He's going to do what?" Storm's temper flared as her brown irises glazed over into a pure white and thunder sounded from above.

The young girl swallowed in nervousness. "That pirate deserves what he gets. All pirates are murderous! They should be hung and strung up on a gibbet(2)!" She stammered and stepped backm thm the rusted bars. The wood floor creaked under her black, low-heel boots that she wore. Her arm was still sore from where Logan had held her so tightly, as she had struggled to get away.

Storm stopped all actions. She lowered her temper and let the thunder die slowly between her thoughts. The girl had voiced everything that she- herself- had voiced in a bit more words to Logan and Remy, himself, not too long ago. Giving the girl a glare, she turned on her heels and went back to her task before leaving the room. On the way back up to Remy's quarters, she had taken a hollow look around at the crew and then found herself staring at Tristan on the quarterdeck(3), giving orders and trying to keep himself and the ship, together.

Opening the door to Remy's quarters, she stood a moment and watched Logan finish rolling Remy's onto his back and undress him to cool him down, as he waited for the alcohol. Snapping out of her quiet musings, she met Logan's eyes and held up the bottle of alcohol that sat in a small, wooden bucket in her hand. "We must act fast. Remove the blanket and hand me his sheet." Storm hadn't really thought of what she was doing, her mind refused to let go of what the girl had said.

Remy lie naked on the now stripped bed, and dribbled in and out of consciousness and delirium. His babble had only been in the repetitious manner. "De....... gar...den..... UNH! ...'bsint' ....mm!" He groaned and started to roll back into a ball when Logan gently held him and unfolded him again.

Storm exchanged concerned looks with Logan as they paused to listen to Remy. Going back to her task of dumping the entire bottle of alcohol into the bucket and then stuffing the white top sheet into it, she eyed Logan as he held Remy's wrists onto the bed, beside the thin shoulders. "Your captive has a smart tongue. As if she knows what he is going through......?"

Logan tilted his head back to her. "Really? Hm, I'll have to have a farewell chat with her, before we set her adrift." He sniffed and smirked at the woman who had maintained her chore of soaking the sheet in sections as the bucket hadn't been big enough. "She obviously said somnethin that got under your skin. Didn't she?"

A glare escaped Storm. She had finished one section and started another, finishing the entire cloth. "Let'y, Iy, I've met myself between bars." Hoisting up the sheet and wringing it out before handing it to Logan, she took a breath and watched the brawny, ill-tempered man become more of a pussycat and gently wrap the sheet around Remy as if it were a cocoon.

Logan held him close, after finishing wrapping the sheet around Remy. Remy's head rest on his right shoulder as he rubbed the narrow back and whispered softly into his upturned right ear. "Shhh, kiddo. Yer safe now. Ain't no one gonna hurt ya, here."

The door opened again and both Logan and Storm turned to see who was entering. "Any luck?" Tristan asked, closing the door quietly behind him. He had barely been able to keep his mind on his work. All he could think about was if Remy was all right. To that respect, he had been absolutely dumbfounded that the crew had maintained a straight path, and not ran in circles from his jumbled orders.

Logan lay Remy back down and loosened the sheet around the slender upper body. Feeling the cool and clammy skin of Remy's sleeping face, he sighed and answered. "Bit by bit." He turned back to Tristan, now standing beside the bed, and evened his tone. "We're gonna have ta have a talk to with little brat in the brig. The lady says she might know a thing or three about the kid's fever."

"Is that so?" Tristan focused on Remy, musing silently to himself.

Logan nodded. "Dungeons can get damn cold, ........ somethin else is doin this. And I aint likin it." Wiping a cool cloth against Remy's forehead as the young man moaned again and struggled to roll over. He growled under his breath at everything and nothing. He wanted to sail back to port and rip that damned Duke apart, but he also wanted to know why Remy was so sick. It pained him to stare at the young captain, so helpless. He had just wanted it to be over, and have Remy open his eyes and reassure them he was alright. But, Remy didn't.

--------------------------------

Both Tristan and Logan stomped and pounded their way down to the brig. Logan had gotten to the side of the cage, first and slammed the palm of his right hand against the bars. Smiling as he gained the girl's frightened attention, he dropped his smile and snarled at her. "What in the Hell do you know about the kid? You'd better start talkin, girl, or you aren't gonna see daylight anytime soon!"

Tristan had remained , as, as he stood behind Logan, and casually stared at the girl's reaction. "No sense in hiding it, girl. Logan can be very persuasive, or nice.... depending on you." Shifting his weight to his right foot and placing one hand on Logan's right shoulder while the other held the keys to the cell.

Logan had been ready to pop his claws and slice through the steel bars to get to her, as she cringed back from him. But, he was stopped as a hand on his shoulder, comforted him. "Just gimme a twitch, girl. And,--" The claws of his left hand shot into view. "I'll gladly help you remember."

The girl began to pant and clutch the front of her dress as she stared at the 3 shiny claws Logan displayed as they seemed to be coming out from the back of his hand. "Anythin happens to me, mah father will hunt y'all down like the lowlahf shiprats y'all are!" She had been out of her mind in voicing that loud enough for the two men to clearly hear her. Her eyes hadn't left the claws as he had stretched his arm out to the side and drug the tips slowly back, letting the bars sound a *tinging* sound.

Tristan watched Logan slowly drag his claws against the metal and smirked as the man's tactics worked in scaring the girl. "My dear, we just want to know why the Captain is sick." Tapping Logan's right arm and stepping closer to the bars, he smiled at her. "Your father takes care of you, when you are ill, does he not?"

She nodded and stared at Tristan.

"And, it is the same for us, with the boy. You see," He cleared his throat and waited for Logan to resheath his claws before continuing. "I have been like a father to Remy. Cared for him, watched him grow up, and taught him right from wrong." Logan withdrew his claws from view and turned to sit on a medium sized crate by the door. "What your father has said about him is not true."

Running to the bars and grabbing two with her hands she sneered and spat her retort. "You lie! Mah father wouldn't make that stuff up! He says the 'Dread Pirate LeBeau' and his bastard boy have done horrible things to our town! Horrible!" She shut up and cringed as a *SNIKT* was heard from where Logan sat.

"....And, what would they be, missy...?" Logan growled. His head tilted downward but his word shot up to her and made her back away from the bars.

She stared at the beast of a man as she cautiously stepped back into her far corner. "W-w-well, like the old man went through the town and tried to start a brawl with mah father. Or, teach his brat how to rape us- respected- women while he" glancing at Tristan "and the crew, took what they wanted and killed good people."

Tristan narrowed his eyes at the accusations. "It's true he was trying to teach the boy about the ways of a buccaneer. But, it hadn't interested Remy. Still doesn't." He cleared his throat. "And, the boy had a mother. A beautiful woman from the Americas. Who didn't approve of her son, and husband, roaming about creating such attrocities." He smiled a moment as shock came over the girl's face. "Yes, my dear. I was a well-schooled boy before I signed on with this rag-tag crew. But, first and foremost, the question remains unanswered." He straightened. "What has happened to our captain?"

A look of regret washed over her. "He- he has a drug in him. That's all Ah know."

Logan's eyes widened as he had caught on to what Remy had been repeating. "Absinth." He stood up and stared at Tristan a moment. "That's what he's been repeatin. Absinth." Both men looked back to the girl. "What's this about a garden?"

"Garden?" The girl thought for a moment. "Garden...?" Shaking her head, briefly, before looking back at Logan, she tried to piece the puzzle together. "We have a garden, out back. But, he was no where near there."

Tristan turned and walked away from them, thinking. "Garden.... snake?" He stopped after five paces and turned back to the girl. "A garden snake with absinth? How does that tie into his fever?"

"Ah don't know!" She straightened. "Ah was sent outta the room."

---------------------------

The afternoon drug on. The Duke sat in his study, holding up a clear glass jar with a drowsy brown garden snake inside, and staring at it. He sighed. The chair at his desk was a well-crafted short backed chair with wooden lining and a plush red velvet back and seat. The desk itself, sat to the far left of the study, facing the corner at an angle. To his right, sat a tall, wide, brillant fireplace with a big, rolling orange and red flamed fire.

Setting the jar on the desktop, he stood up and turned to make his way to the doorway. Two open double doors greeted him as he passed between them. He had been deep in thought about his daughter, so young and beautiful, but also deadly and innocent. And then, about the young handsome captain that had been scheduled to hang that very morning, but under circumstances, he had been freed and his lovely daughter was now a prisoner on the very same ship.

Carlington clapsed his hands behind his back as he walked down the drafty wood corridor and into his quarters, slamming the door behind him. He had posted guards at the banks and end of each post and left instructions for hourly reports. So far, nothing. He lay down on the right side of his bed, on his back and closed his eyes. His head hurt from the worry, and his erection was driving him insane. His right hand rest on his stomach and slowly slid down, beneath his breeches, letting his fingertips idly stroke his manhood.

Thoughts of the young captain and him, hours previous, filled his mind. Moaning softly, his attentions turned to the thought of the boy and the burly, older man, Logan. His hand curved over the length, and he began to firm his strokes. Images began to plague his mind, distorted from the headache, but clear nonetheless. He pictured Logan being gruff and forceful with the boy as he ripped off Remy's clothing and tossed him onto a massive brass and velvet bed, holding the boy down, on his stomach as Logan grunted and forced himself into the tight opening.

Carlington grunted and gasped as he pulled himself harder.

His mind had continued the image. Remy was now gasping and moaning at the harsh thrusts of the fierce pirate assaulting him from behind. Red and black eyes tightly shut as teeth bared and clenched together. Thin and undernourished body moved in pace, back and forth, at the thrusts. A scream as both men had reached orgasm, one spilling into a tight, hot body. And the other, letting his seed dribble out from beneath him, onto a dark blue velvet comforter.

Wetness made the Duke open his eyes, lift his head and look down at his hand, removed from his breeches. A smirk as he tasted himself on a fingertip, glistening with his own seed. Laying his head back down onto the pillow, he chuckled to himself. "Ah, Remy, you are amazing to me."

He sighed and lay there a moment. The sticky goo on his hand reminded him that Remy was at fault for his daughter's capture. And what a surprise they'd have if they tried to harm her, by touching her bare skin. He could breathe easy for her chastity in tact, however, her powers did not have the same effect on a blade or pistol.

----------------------------

His eyes opened and he looked around, dizzily. His quarters. He was alone..... and naked beneath a wet sheet that reeked of alcohol. His dreams had been strange, and yet comforting. His struggles to get out of the sheet had been energy consuming. The fever was still there, but dulled from the alcohol.

Since Logan's voice had been in his ears, and still floated through his vertigo-stricken mind, he assumed that Logan was somewhere near. But, where was Tristan? The events of the morning had been fuzzy to him. All he could seem to remember was Will telling him he was going to be all right.

Remy sat up, swinging his feet over the side of the bed, and pulling his arms free of the sheet. As it pooled around his waist in a damp white tangle of linen, he rubbed his temples with his fingertips. Who was sailing the ship? His feet felt the vibrations of the waters, but refused to let his mind rest on sanity. Tristan. Tristan was sailing the ship..... or, Will. Logan...? Where was he? Why wasn't he watching Remy? He groaned and forced himself to stand up, losing his balance and leaning forward to catch himself on the table's edge.

The table in one hand, and the sheet held in the other, tightly around his middle, he looked around for clothing. Anything. Finding his clothing draped over a small wooden chair, in the far corner of the room, he took a step and crumpled to the floor. Catching himself on his left hand, the very one that had caught the edge of the table, he focused on the far chair, and let got of the sheet to start crawling towards it.

Slow, cat-like strides bringing him closer and closer to his goal.

Reaching the chair, he sat on the floor, with his legs under him and reached for the shirt that had been draped with his breeches over the back. His arms were heavy. Thinking for a moment, he finally lifted the back of the shirt and stuck his head underneath. A hand reached up and pulled the material the rest of the way down until his head pulled through the hole in the top. With his left hand, he grabbed his right wrist and pulled it up and through the right armhole, then moved to snake his right hand under the material to do the same to his left. When the shirt was over him, he threw his right arm over the seat of the chair and leaned as far as he could over it. Remy pushed himself to lie his chest on the seat and then move his legs to help him stand up.

A glint of shiny metal came from behind the chair. He stopped a moment and stared at it. He knew that sword. Storm's sword. Where was she? Was she sailing the ship?

Footsteps.

The doorknob turned and the door opened.

Remy grabbed the sword and spun around, stopping in a dizzy mix of vision and sickness. He pointed the sword at the blurry figure and again tried to stand up. Holding the weapon with both hands, he tilted his head to the left and squinted before tilting it to the right and doing the same. "Stop!" He called, nearly out of breath.

"Put down the sword, Remy." Storm's calm voice spoke up from the doorway.

His eyes blinked as he tried to focus, clearly, on her. "Where's Logan? Tristan?"

Storm didn't answer. She began to back up as Remy had finally stood and started to shuffle slowly towards her. She backed up until they both were fully outside, under the hot sun. Raising her hands, and keeping at a distance, she told him again to put down the sword but hen'tn't listened.

The light hurt his eyes. He cringed and squinted at the sunlight. "Where are dey, girl?" His voice had been softer and unsteady. His head hurt. Groaning again but opening his eyes as grey clouds had formed to cover the sunlight. His hair blew loosely in the breeze, and he could feel the bottom of the long shirt, just above his knees. His breaths came in short waves and he was feeling light-headed.

"Calm yourself, Remy. They are quite fine." She blinked and watched him carefully. "They are in the brig."

"De brig?" Remy was baffled.

Storm lowered her hands as Remy had lowered the blade and looked away in thought. "Yes. They are questioning a captive."

"F'r what?"

"About yer fever, kid." Logan had come up from below and answered for Storm, from behind Remy. Tristan had been behind him, and quickly nudged Logan aside to hurry to Remy. "How ya feelin?"

Tristan stared at Remy in joy and concern. "Captain, it's good to see you are awake. Are you alright?"

Remy had turned around and stared at the two men in disbelief. "Oui. Remy's fine." Turning to look at Tristan, he asked. "T'ought you was in de brig?"

A young girl emerged from behind Logan and stared at Remy. She stood stock still, beside the older man and opened her eyes widely as the blade was now raised and pointed straight at her. "Ahh...." She gasped, in fear.

"Non!" Remy was growing more angry as his heart beat faster and louder than anything else. "De girl can' stay! No' on my ship!" Taking a step forward and staggering a bit, he fixed his sights on her. "Her damn fat'er try ta kill me! He--" Groaning in pain, Remy dropped the blade to the floor and began to follow suit but was saved as Logan stepped closer to catch him in his arms.

Tristan reached for the girl to go to him, as she did. "Captain, she will not be staying. She was only in our brig until we cleared waters of Carlington's ports." He and Logan held a silent moment between them before he spoke again. "I've brought her up here to take a look at what her father has done to you. And then, we were to set her in a boat and send her home." His eyes fell on Logan again, as Remy had been silent and still.

Logan shook his head and mouthed the words to Tristan that Remy had passed out, again. "I'll take him back to bed." He told them. He stood there with Remy's head on his left shoulder, and his arms around the thin waist. Bending, slightly, he scooped up Remy's legs and stared at the girl. "Get rid o' her. He wakes up again, she might not go home alive." Remy dangled in his arms, limply, as he turned back to the Captain's Quarters.

Watching Logan nudge the door open with his right foot, Tristan held onto the girl's arm as he turned around to look at Storm. "Let's find a boat, for the lady."

The girl pulled back a bit from him. "Wait! What's gonna happen to him?" She looked back at the closed door and began to move forward. "Ah-- Ah wanna help him!"

"Sadly, child, the captain is not your concern." Storm led the way to the collapsables on the starboard side.

"But, he's gonna wanna know if he's alive or dead!" Her words had caused both of them to stop and turn to face her. "What am Ah gona tell him?"

Tristan looked at Storm and she, in return, stared at him. "Tell Duke Carlington, Remy is dead from fever and delirium. That is all he needs to know." Without another word, he turned and continued the short walk to the boats.

Setting her into the boat and lowering her down into the glistening gold waters, they stared at her, and she stared back at them, sullenly. Her brown hair had caught the sunlight as it peeked out from behind the dissipating clouds. The white streak had shone brightly and blew like strung out cotton on a bush of brown. She sat there, so nicely, and still and wondered why Tristan had said that. Was he really about to die? Or, would they do something to their own captain? Strange and wild creatures these pirates were. Certainly not the types her father had dealt with. But, he wouldn't lie to his own daughter about men he'd never spent time with, would he? Questions filled her mind as she sat there and watched the boat sail on without her.

Storm had watched the girl turn around in the seat and raise a hand to cover her eyes from a glare on the boat's tall mast, before asking her question. "Why tell her that?"

Turning his head, he stared at her highlighted profile. "Because, if I hadn't have said it, Carlington would never let the boy have peace." Placing his hands behind his back and strolling back to Remy's cabin, he added. "Besides, why not? He will die... sometime....."


TBC.......

1- Ponton- an English prison hulk, or converted ship hull, where captured pirates were held.
2- Gibbet - a wooden frame from which dead pirates were hung, often in a metal cage especially fitted for the pirate, as a warning to any others who would think of taking up a career of piracy
3- Quarterdeck- highest deck at the rear of the ship, ship's officers would often stand on the quarterdeck to oversee the ship's operation