Other Fan Fiction ❯ The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything ❯ Jailbait ( Chapter 3 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

Chapter 3

“This sucks,” Benji muttered around the fistful of hair he was chewing.

Erik grimaced and attempted once more to extract his locks from his best friend's mouth. “You're telling me.”

Benji glared at him and let the hair drip. “Stop worrying about yourself, Erik! In case you forgot, we lost Miguel!”

“Hey, that is completely unfair,” Erik protested edgily. “I love Miguel, you know that!”

Benji sighed and leaned his forehead into Erik's shoulder, closing his eyes. “Yeah, I know. I'm sorry.”

Erik echoed the sigh and put an arm around the white-haired man, squeezing comfortingly. “Buck up, private,” he said, voice carefully light. “We're not doing Miguel any good sitting here feeling sorry for ourselves.”

Benji sat still for a moment, then let out another sigh and sat up, swiping a hand across his eyes. “Yeah…yeah, you're right. Let's go round up the rest of the crew. I want my boyfriend back and I want him back now.”

“I second that,” a voice suddenly growled from a few feet away.

Benji whirled, choking off a startled shot, to see a rather small blue-haired man in the doorway, frowning and just generally looking angry.

“I seem to have lost mine, too,” the guy said darkly. “What say you to a…temporary alliance?”

Miguel decided instantly upon entering the Cuban jail that this second was far better than the first. At least this time he could understand what everyone was saying…

Well, until the disturbing round of catcalls started. Then he quite suddenly found himself wishing more than anything that he didn't have ears.

“C'mon, chief, could we move this show along, please?” Miguel asked politely. “Before I…oh, I don't know…GAG MYSELF WITH A SPOON!!”

The man escorting him to his cell shrugged and removed Miguel's irons. “Welcome to the Cuban jail. We serve breakfast, lunch, and dinner all in one small and convenient meal at exactly five A.M. I would like to be the first to recommend the feet stew…”

Then, with a shove, Miguel found himself on the floor of his cell “Eww!”

“Just a joke for the newbies. Have a pleasant stay!” The guard snickered, then promptly left.

“Heeey! Dun I know ya? De lass from before, right?” a bright voice said.

Miguel started and looked in the direction of a voice. Upon seeing Jin, he skipped right over the “lass” comment and threw himself into the arms of the almost-complete stranger.

“Oh, thank GOD! Someone here who isn't completely crazy!”

“MY DIRT!”

Miguel jumped about two feet in the air, turning as he hit the ground to look at the grizzled man huddled in the corner, clutching something in his arms and glaring at Miguel.

“You're eyeing it, aren't you? You're eyeing my dirt…you want to steal it!”

“No, I…I don't want your dirt…”

“Liar! They all said that—they all lied! Liars and thieves, thieves and liars!”

“No, no, I really don't want—”

“Go away!” the man snarled. “My dirt…” He then receded into incoherent muttering.

“He's been doing that since…well, since I got here, anyway,” a higher voice piped up, and a small boy stepped out of the shadows with his hand stretched out to shake. “Hi! I'm Talen.”

Miguel hesitantly took the hand and, upon finding it devoid of unusual objects or substances, shook it politely. “Miguel Sanchez.”

Talen let go of him and retreated back to the wall, smiling cheerily.

“Okay, kid,” a fourth voice said, and Miguel began to wonder how many people could be stuffed into this tiny cell. “How much did you take from him?”

Talen shrugged. “Two rings and a bracelet,” he said candidly. “I didn't take it all, `cause I think I like him.”

“Hand it over.”

“But—”

“Now.”

The boy glowered. “I'm wildly disappointed in you, Two-Bit,” he snapped, stepping forward to give Miguel—his own ring. The one Benji had given him when they were young, in fact. Along with it came another of far less importance and a dangly silver chain bracelet. Upon examining his person, Miguel was somewhat awed to discover that he really didn't have these things.

“He stole your stuff, he did,” the man in the corner cackled. Then he frowned. “Just like he wants to steal my dirt!”

The man named Two-Bit stepped toward Miguel, reaching out to shake. “Just so you know, we usually talk to Talen from across the room,” he advised.

Miguel studied him. “Your name is Two-Bit? How strange…”

“Well, that's just a nickname. I have another one. A real one.” His face screwed up in thought. “I just…can't remember right now.”

“Don't beam me up by my chest, that hurts! And leave my dirt alone! I've got a jar of dirt…I've got a jar of dirt…I can't wait to tell all my friends! They don't have this much dirt…”

Miguel's eyes rolled heavenward. “God help us one and all…”

XXX

“Dirt…what is with the dirt? Why is it always about dirt?!” Shura grumbled, lifting his eyes from the book. He'd been reading non-stop for eight hours, and was finally beginning to crack. Small wonder.

“Your smut is now downloaded…” Shura's computer stated.

Shura blinked. “You're not helping…I need someone to annoy. HEY, OLD PERSON!!”

“DIE!” was Yomi's reply.

“Oh, no. You'll die way before I do, don't worry.”

“And what a sweet release that'll be…”

“I bet when I'm that old I won't be as bitter.”

“You will be.”

Shura glared and…began to sing.

“You're older than you've ever been and now you're even older…and now you're even older. You're older than you've ever been and now you're even older…”

“La la la la laaa!”

“…AND NOW YOU'RE OLDER STILL!”

And then Yomi got a gray hair.

“Crap.”

XXX

“Miguel Sanchez, you are determined guilty on the charge of theft. The sentence for this crime is the removal of your hand,” the ominous judge announced.

“My hand…?” Miguel gulped.

“Yes. Your hand.”

“Some lawyer you are…” the redhead scoffed around the growing lump in his throat, turning his back to the attorney appointed to him.

His lawyer then replied, “MY DIRT!” and was quietly escorted back to his cell.

Miguel stared down at his hands sadly. “But…I like my hands….”

The guard appointed to carry out the sentence thought for a moment, then said, “I'm feeling sympathetic. You can choose which one you'd rather lose.”

“But…but I like them both!”

“Well, you can choose one or the other, or I can. Either way, a limb is coming off.”

“Can't you take my foot instead?” Miguel pleaded hopefully. “I don't like those…”

“Oh…okay…” Miguel said. Then he sat down cross-legged and held his hands out in front of him. “Eenie meenie miney moe…”

CRASH!

The double doors of the courtroom slammed open, much to the surprise of the people inside and very much to the surprise of the two unfortunate guards who were now being sandwiched in between the doors and the wall.

“Sorry to crash the party. But then again, seeing as you have my boyfriend prisoner…never mind, I'm rescinding that apology,” Benji said with a smirk.

Backing him up was none other than the entire crew of the Arch Angel…plus Touya.

The pirate captain ran over to his lover and cut the rope binding his hands. “Sorry I'm late, love.”

Miguel stopped muttering and looked up. “Oh, hi, Benji.”

“Love…what are you doing?”

“Trying to decide which one of my hands I don't want anymore…”

If the residents of the Arch Angel weren't mad before, they certainly became so upon hearing the words. And not a one of them seemed all that interested in hiding it.

The bald man in the jury box leaned toward the man next to him.

“Well, this sucks…”

XXX

“But…but, Benji, I can't go yet!” Miguel babbled frantically as he jogged next to Benji, struggling against the arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders. “I still have to choose!”

“No, Miguel,” Benji said kindly, though his eyes snapped fire. “You don't have to choose.”

“You mean I can keep them both?” Miguel asked, looking at the hands in wonder.

If he'd been looking up then, he would have caught something soft flashing across Benji's face before the angry mask settled back into place.

“Yes, Miguel. You can keep them both.”

“Okay…”

Benji smiled down at him and was leaning in to kiss him when…

CRASH!

“JIN, WHERE ARE YOU?!” Touya bellowed, much louder than was really necessary.

A bored voice spoke from behind the door. “`Bout time. Your punctuality leaves lots o' desirables, babe.”

Touya leaned forward to peer around the door at in, stretched lazily out on the floor, weaving a cat's cradle with a piece of string and looking pretty content, all things considered.

Upon seeing his face, Touya settled down a little. “You all right?” he asked with forced calm as he went to press a quick kiss to Jin's forehead. “Did they hurt you?”

“Oh, yes, they just beat me for hours,” Jin said cheerily, grinning up at him. “Cantcha see the big grotesque bruises?”

Touya glowered. “Cute.”

“And witty!” Jin reminded him, before promptly returning to his cat's cradle.

“Uh…Jin?”

“Eh?”

“I don't know if you've noticed this, but…well, I'm sort of standing here with a pretty big group at my back and the door all broken on its hinges, and they do send patrols down here every now and then, you know…”

“Uh-huh. What's yer point?” Jin asked absently, his brow furrowing as he stumbled over a particularly tough patch.

“He's saying you need to get up off the ground and follow him out, you nimrod,” a voice snapped irritably, and only then did Touya notice the three other people in the cell.

“No, he coulna be sayin' that,” Jin decided after a moment of thought. “Because Touya here knows that you can't rush perfection, hey?”

The young boy who had spoken before threw up his hands in disgust. “I give up. I can't talk to him anymore! He's psychotic! You do it!” he said to an older guy who leaned against the wall with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

The man shrugged and took a drag of his cigarette. “Sorry, kid. I don't like the way my head feels like it's gonna float away when he talks to me. Makes me feel as nuts as he is.”

“…Jin? Sweetie?” Touya said after a moment of silence.

“Yes, Touya?”

“I hear footsteps.”

“Oh. That's bad,” Jin agreed without looking up.

“Yes, it is. So…d'you think we should go now…or…what…?”

“In a minute.”

Touya walked back to the door and pokes his head out into the corridor, immediately seeing the long shadows on the walls that spoke of trouble. “Jin, they're about to round the corner.”

“I know. They're fairly loud.”

“And what do you think they're going to do when they get here?”

“Kill us, prolly.”

“And you don't think we should maybe…run away?”

“I'm almost done here, Touya,” Jin said. “Really almost. Okay?”

“No! NOT OKAY!” Touya shouted. “ON ACCOUNT OF THOSE GUARDS ARE GOING TO…”

“ESCAPE! ESCAPE! GET THEM!”

“Jin, I really think we need to go!”

That was when Jin finally decided he'd had enough. He rolled his eyes and bounced to his feet, the cat's cradle still clutched in his hands. Walking around the door, he too poked his head out and yelled, “EXCUSE ME!”

The ten-some guards rushing the group stopped on a dime.

“Nice reflexes,” Jin congratulated them. “Now, I just wanted to ask you to wait a moment before commencing with the choppage, if you would. I'm working on a rather important project and I'm tantalizingly close to being done.”

“Certainly,” the leader said graciously.

“Excellent!” Jin said happily, then ducked back into the cell.

Touya and the rest watched the guards warily while Jin's nimble fingers flew, until a few moments later the redhead said triumphantly, “Done! Okay, we can go now!” Then he turned to the others and asked politely, “Join us in the jailbreak?”

Talen shrugged. “Sure thing. I'm a pretty good distraction, if I do say so myself.”

“Well, hell, you know I'm in,” Two-Bit added.

“And what about you? In the corner?” Jin asked.

“YOU DON'T WANT ME TO C OME! YOU JUST WANT TO USE THE FRAY TO STEAL MY DIRT! MY DIRT! MINE, MINE, MINE, MINE, MINE!”

“Uh…weren't you supposed to be firm on the last `mine'?”

“Oh…sorry….sloppy use of emphasis. “MINE!”

“Much better. Are you not coming, then?”

“…Who are you? YOU'RE TRYING TO STEAL MY DIRT, AREN'T YOU!”

“Guess not,” Jin said, already headed for the door. “Okay, guys, thank you for waiting! You can chase us now!”

“ALL GEMINIS TO THE RASPBERRY HATS!”

XXX

“…What if we don't want to hear from you?”

Miguel sighed and rubbed his temples tiredly. “You guys have been doing this for hours…”

“If ye dun wanna hear from us, then ye can just slip on a banana peel and die!”

Touya chuckled. “In the boat, Jin! We're shoving off!”

“I'm comin', I'm comin'…”

“…Coming where?” Benji asked in confusion. “There's no ship!”

“Sure thee is! It's right there!”

“Where?”

“There!”

“Where?”

“BENJI, IT'S RIGHT THERE!”

“…Hey, where'd they go?”

The group peered closely at the ocean.

“Hey, there they are!”

“Where?”

“Not this again…”

“Right there, Benji, see? In the teeny tiny little rowboat?”

“…Guess that explains why we've never heard of them…”

“Yep…”

XXX

Erik sighed heavily as the group climbed back on board the Arch Angel. “All right. Wounded stay with me. Everyone else…back to work.”

“Hey, who's the captain here, Erik?!”

“Me, apparently.”

“…Well, okay then.” And with that, Benji went to join the rest of the screw.

“Now…who needs treatment? You there, Nameless Wonder, with the severed arm…front and center! Oh…Miguel, what's wrong?” The doctor's voice took on a noticeably more gentle tone when speaking to the redhead.

“…I got a splinter,” Miguel said in a small voice, holding up the offending finger.

As one, the entire crew gasped, and the Nameless Wonder dropped his arm onto the deck.

“Erik, you should probably go take care of Nameless…”

“No need, it's scabbed over!” Nameless Wonder spoke up.

“Then…Jiro! Look, his face is gushing blood and his arm snapped and crackled and popped and he made a noise like a dying walrus! So you take care of him and Benji can pull my splinter and then we can get back to work!”

Erik sighed dejectedly.

“Never occurred to you that you'd have to be alone with him, did it?” Miguel whispered, smiling a trifle evilly.

“Go die, Miguel.”

XXX

Jiro's cabin was an intellectual's dream. Every free bit of wall space was lined with books and music, and scraps of poetry and prose littered the desk. A lute lay on the sleep-tossed bed, waiting to be tuned. It was next to this that Jiro sat, his arm lying useless at his side.

“Okay…let's see what we have here…” Erik murmured to himself, kneeling next to the bed and taking Jiro's arm to examine it gently. “Okay…right…” Then he took off his jacket and handed it to Jiro. “Bite.”

After that particular bit of unpleasantness was finished, it was smooth sailing.

“Here, hold this on your head while I put the splint on. You've lost a lot of blood already—can't have you losing more. Press it tight, now.”

There was a moment of silence as Erik began the splitting, concentrating solely on his task. Almost immediately, however, his hands fell to work of their own accord, and he was able to allow his gaze to wander elsewhere. “You have an amazing collection,” he commented, a slightly awed tone in his voice.

Jiro smiled slightly. “You like books?”

“Love them, but I can never get my hands on them,” Erik replied, his eyes back on the task at hand. “There's not a lot of opportunity for reading on a pirate ship, and when we're pilfering and `plundering and filching and sacking,' we don't tend to think about making a stop at the local library or university. Where did you get all of these?”

“…I'm afraid I am unable to disclose that delicate information at this time.”

The doctor chuckled. “Fair enough. So do you write, too? And I suppose you play music as well…”

Jiro shrugged modestly. “I dabble.”

Another short silence, and then Erik said almost too softly for Jiro to hear, “I'd like to hear that sometime.”

The only reply he received was a pleased smile, and then the subject was changed. “So what about you?”

“What about me?”

“What do you do with your free time?”

“What free time?”

Jiro laughed. “Good point. Well, I know you like to read, and you seem to like music…do you dabble in anything else?”

“…I make drugs.”

“O…kay…”

There was a moment of silence, and then Erik said quietly, “You know something?”

“Hmm?”

“You're one of the only people I've ever met who's asked me a single question about me.”

“…Really?”

Erik didn't reply as he finally finished his patient's arm. “All right, take off the cloth. Oh, good, the bleeding's almost stopped. Okay, so it's not too deep, but it does need some stitches…but it won't heart near as much as the bone setting, don't worry.” And with that, Erik began to stitch. “…So…any family or anything?”

“Nope,” Jiro replied, glad to have something to distract him from the sting of the needle. “Not that I remember, anyway. I had a girl that was close to being a sister, but she died…what abut you? Siblings? Parents?”

“My parents died, too. Plague, or some such. The doctors wouldn't do anything because we were poor…”

“What about siblings?”

“I had a brother. He's still alive, actually, but he's…in a whole other universe.”

“Ah…” Jiro said, leaving off tactfully.

A moment later, Erik looked down to see Jiro giving him one of those intense stares that he seemed to reserve especially for the doctor. “Stop looking at me like that…” he said, blushing a deep red. “You're making my hands all shaky…” Then, ignoring the chuckle he received in reply, he finished off the last stitch with a flourish.

“Well, Jiro, you are now the proud owner of a severely busted arm and nine stitches in the head. Happy?”

Jiro laughed and moved to stretch out on his head as Erik quickly moved to place the lute against the wall and prop the pillows at his patient's back.

“Hold on, I think I have something for the pain back in my cabin. Let me go get it…”

Several minutes later, Jiro was floating in that blissful place between sleep and wakefulness. Erik was sitting on the bed next to him, flipping through a book and using it as an excuse not to leave. He had no idea why, but this place calmed him like no other did.

Then, just when he thought the chaplain had finally drifted off, his attention was caught by a quiet murmur. “…Jiro?”

“You're different from most guys, Erik,” Jiro mumbled, sounding as though he was talking in his sleep. “And I'm going to find out all about you…”

Erik blinked, startled, and then a slow smile broke across his face. “Good night, Jiro,” he replied softly, before returning his attention to the book.

And when the sun began to shine through the cabin window, it lit upon Jiro sleeping peacefully on his side with his head pillowed by his good arm, and Erik sprawled next to him with a book on his lap and his head resting against Jiro's back.

It was the best sleep either of them could ever remember having.