So it’s been a while and I feel I need to say a couple things.
First: Quatre (and Trowa, I think) are pretty OOC. This is a consequence of the crossing over and I’m sorry, but I had to make it this way. Just think as if Quatre got into the zero system and never got out. . . or just think of it as a PotC crossover with GW properties, that’s fine too.
Second: The reason why Heero randomly seemed to knock out Duo was because I didn’t want it to be premeditated. I just didn’t want Heero to do something so evil. . .
-____-

I will finish this before the year is out! ::determined::

Disclaimer: (see previous chapters)


Chapter 7


The mood on The Wing as they put quick distance between themselves and the cursed isle was understandably depressed. In their time as pirates, the crew that had been assembled were not particularly noble or righteous, but they did share a sense of general camaraderie and most certainly a degree of respect for Captain Maxwell. Some were suffering more than others, however, as Hilde had taken to the helm and not relinquished control or deigned to speak to anyone. Not even Moony could convince her to eat or drink anything and no one knew how long she would be holding vigil on deck. People shuffled around in a daze, doing work mechanically, but on their lips were whispered suspicions. Only Yuy and the girl he wanted to rescue had returned, and neither had been approachable for questions about what happened back there. Maybe at some point they would share a more full understanding of how Maxwell perished, but so long as there wasn’t any detail there was still a vague hope that maybe, just maybe, Maxwell was alive. He had practically come back from the dead before, and the sometimes supercilious captain was known for small miracles.

It was well into the night that men were sharing stories and thinking of fallen fellows, sometimes in the pursuit of larceny, but more often from brawls in bars or skirmishes with His Majesty’s navy. While the crew was kept awake by their own troubled and mournful memories, Heero and Relena were kept awake in Yuy’s private cabin for other reasons. The most pressing was attending to Relena’s injured hand, which had been bleeding profusely since they had left. Even though they should have been asleep long ago, the adrenaline from danger had been replaced with that of being in the uninterrupted presence of the other. Both of them struggled with coping as best as they could,

Relena’s quick intake of breath alarmed Heero as he changed the bandage on her hand yet again. He was not happy with how much it was still bleeding, but it did seem to be lessening. Stitches had been necessary when they had first gotten on the ship. Someone, probably Hilde, had leant Relena some clothes as well, as her sodden and bleeding state had not done wonders for her tattered bits of cloth that clung to her. In pants that clung to her and a shirt that gaped forward she still bore herself as a lady, and Heero felt more distant from her than ever before.

“Sorry.” He mumbled as Relena’s eyes closed from the pain of changing her bandage yet again. “My hands are rough.”

Quickly, she forced a smile and covered his hand with her own before he could pull away from fastening her binding. “No, Heero, please don’t apologize. You’ve been incredible, and if you dare say anything derogatory about yourself I simply have to refute it.” Her breathing fluttered as she seemed to grow slightly embarrassed to be touching him. “I’ll never be able to repay you for what you’ve done for me.”

A few things leapt to mind as her shirt continued to gape, revealing a lack of anything beneath and just a hint of soft flesh. . .

No, bad, slap. He shook his head and extracted his hand from hers to put away the last of the medical supplies that he had taken to this small room which he had claimed for himself since getting on board The Wing. The room, which had been a perfectly decent size before, now seemed much too small and, even worse, much too intimate for them to share. Then again, he couldn’t very well leave her alone in case anyone in the crew, who he didn’t trust within an inch of his life, came to assault her in any way. It looked like he would be standing guard tonight rather than resting, which he very much needed after the days of tension and preparation he had gone through.

When he looked again at Relena, she was snapping her head back from a stolen glance at the bed in the corner, slightly rumpled from use. There was some color on her cheeks and he felt it suited her much better than the alarming paleness and far away half-horrified inward look she had displayed when he had led her down to this room a couple hours ago. The shock was still fresh on her mind. She needed someone to comfort her and, even if he wanted to, he feared he would not be the best person for the job.

“. . . you’re safe now.” It was a lame reassurance. He tried not to shift around awkwardly in his seat, still holding the medical kit but not knowing what to do with it.

“I always felt safe with you around.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. Somehow, thanking her didn’t seem to be the correct thing to respond with. The urge just to wrap his arms around her rather than attempt any more assuaging words was particularly strong.

“You know, when you think you might die, you think about a lot of things. Seems to happen to me a lot, recently.”

“Don’t. . .”

Relena wasn’t going to allow him to stop her from making her feelings clear. “And from the second I left, all I could think of was you. Even when they asked me my name, all I could think to give was the name that I used to practice aloud sometimes as a child: Relena Yuy.”

Heero, charmingly enough, managed to look confused. “My name? Why?”

“It was only but a few days ago. . . that you were in my room.”

The memory, suppressed beneath his fear for her life and the new and troubling information about his father, had somehow supplanted his brief time with her after her fall from the cliff side. It had indeed only been a few days ago. It brought a smile to his lips.

“And now you’re in mine.” His eyes lost the sparkle of humor, always a brief emotion for him in the past and only experienced in her presence. “I will speak to your brother upon our return, as I said I would. Now I shall leave you for the evening.”

Her cry of displeasure pained him, but he wanted to remain adamant. “But why? What will happen to me without you here?”

It was too much for a man to bear. In a fit of exasperated temper, he towered over her in a rather intimidating manner, eyes hooded. “What do you think would happen if I stayed?”

The way Relena’s heart fluttered in her chest as his nearness made her feel very warm and fluid was pleasant. It wasn’t a disgrace if they planned to marry, was it? “Why don’t you tell me, Heero? And then I’ll tell you if it’s wrong.”

It took an act of will not to groan as her inviting lips pursed themselves inches away from his own. “You’re hurt, you’re in shock, and I’m not going to take advantage of you in your condition.”

“Then I’ll just have to take advantage of you.” Relena sounded testy, but none of that irritation seemed to display itself in the kiss she planted on his lips. Her lips were salty and a little chapped from days of chewing on them out of nervousness, but all that Heero processed was how very well they molded to his own. Rather than protest and retreat as he had said he would, instead his body betrayed him by wrapping its arms around her and pulling her from her chair onto the rigid plane of his body. They sat down together on the chair, Relena on his lap, her arms around his neck, pressed indecently close, and Heero knew there was no way in hell he could stay away from her tonight or any other night. She was his, and propriety could be forgotten.

The cautious stolen kiss they had shared became heated and Heero made sure to handle her more carefully then last time lest he hurt her any further and spoil the moment that, now that it had been initiated, he knew he didn’t want to resist. This had been years in coming and if he had his way it wasn’t about to end. But even if his mind was thinking noble thoughts, his body was continuing its search of Relena’s body, a parody of the examination he had tried to emotionlessly give her earlier. This time, his hands slid inside the shirt, against the skin, and elicited sounds from Relena that forced him to slow down and take a deep breath before he continued any further. He was losing his own sense of place and time to this bewitching creature. During this brief return to sanity he noted that his finger was brushing against something hard and he pulled back from her lips to see what he had caught in his hands.

The glint of metal captured his eye and the impossible happened as he forgot Relena, The Black Death, everything, and was transported back to a time when he was fighting to live with every fiber of his being. The feel of fire, the splitting of timbers, and the rush of the water as he fell off the side of the ship. . .

“Where did you get this?” He had broken out into a sweat, helped along by their previous activities, but now cold. “This was from my father. . .” His eyes accused hers with anger that she had never seen directed at her before from the object of her affection. The way he pulled on the necklace brought her face near his once again, but the bite of the metal strand into her skin caused her to reevaluate this situation.

Relena, called back down to earth herself by Heero’s alarming behavior, felt guilt as her confession spilled forward. “When we rescued you. . . I took it.” When his nearly betrayed face again slipped into the impassive mask he had taken to using around everyone else, Relena felt desperate to explain. “When you were taken on board, I thought that they would all think that. . . that you were a pirate. . . I wanted to protect you! I promised to protect you!” Hot tears gathered behind her eyes, but her pride and the force of her conviction would not let them fall. She would not manipulate him like that. He would just have to believe her or not as the case may be. It behooved her to think that he would see the logic of it, even if he had a passionate moment of angered doubt.

For a minute she watched the gears of his mind turn behind those dark blue eyes, tumultuous and troubled, but when he finally spoke it was far more careful and calm then she expected. “When they took you, you said they spoke of a blood price. . . to lift the curse.”

“Yes. They needed my blood. They needed the medallion too. Honestly, that’s all I know.”

His heart split as he looked from the medallion still around her neck to his own forearm and down to the ground. “It wasn’t your blood they needed.”

“It didn’t work, if that’s what you mean, but I don’t see what you’re—”

“Listen to me.” With a swift pull, the clasp that held the gold piece’s chain snapped apart and the metal pooled in his hand. “They didn’t need you’re blood. They needed my father’s.”

When her eyes offered only confusion, he painfully curled his hand into a ball and rested it on his forehead, as if he could offer some sort of incantation to end this mess and allow him to forget. If he could forget then he might just be able to convince himself he was worthy of the affection of a woman like Relena, but now he knew what he was. Blood didn’t lie.

“My father’s. . . my blood. The blood of a pirate.” The sins of the father. . . “Relena, this key is for that door. Lock it and don’t open it unless it’s me on the other side. I’ll be on deck.” He extracted her delicious body from on top of his own aching one and wandered off, leaving the cursed gold on the table, wishing gone from his life what he had once treasured as a precious gift from an absent father.

Relena, sensing this was a moment to relent, let him go. When she turned the key in the lock, she sighed. It seemed as if there would always be blocks to their relationship. Someday soon, Heero would see that she loved him for the man he was now and for the person he had always been rather then what he might have or should have been. Right now he needed time to think, but she would convince him in the end. With a smile, she remembered that she was always the one to win the arguments when they came up. And this was far more important to her than getting him to dress up in formal wear for dinner.

*
*
*

The last thing Duo remembered was a large dark object meeting his face at a remarkably high speed. With a painful lurch, he pinched and readjusted his nose. That would be tender for a time. No sense in worrying about it. He might not have a nose in a moment if he didn’t think fast. Heero’s back was retreating with a bundle possessing lots of wet blond hair burdening him as well as the oars. Through the haze of pain, Duo retained a sharp mind. He was being left behind. It wasn’t a new experience and it was a bit galling, but Heero had done what was right by him and Duo held no malice in his heart for the son of his mentor. Odin had always been a sneaky bastard too, that’s why he had stayed alive as long as he did in such an unforgiving profession.

Well, considering the state of things, he might as well get off his ass and be noble. The best tactic right now was the bold one, and Maxwell had never been lacking in sheer nerve. Quatre had quieted his nearly mutinous men down and Duo felt that if he was going to make an entrance then now would probably be the time. Listing a bit as his head was still clearing, he entered from the back and leaned on a rock. Winner looked a bit peeved as he noted the absence of both girl and the all too valuable last piece of cursed gold.

“Find her, or all will be for naught!” Quatre roared at the pirates, who forgot their troubles in the alarming possibility of losing what they had so recently gained. Several passed by Duo without looking, in a hurry, but the third of fourth man to run into him stopped and gaped as if he were seeing a ghost. In fact, this was exactly what he thought he was seeing. He had to stop another pirate and ask him if this hallucination that was waving cheerily was in fact a real person.

“You’re supposed to be dead!” Some spit sprayed Duo in the face, and he grimaced and wiped it off. He felt his tender nose and brushed off his perpetually disarrayed clothes.

“Am I not?” He broke into another devil-may-care smile. “Fancy that.”

By now, the men who had rushed ahead were coming back to tell of the lack of oars, but what they found was a silent crowd staring at the man who had been their captain, and the only true owner of The Black Death.

Duo thought hard, seeing that he only had the upper hand against these halfwits for perhaps just a few more moments. Snapping his fingers, he attempted to remember that term he had learned so long ago. It sounded like parsley. . . but that didn’t seem quite right. Pistols cocked as the pirates decided to deal with this new problem the way they dealt with most problems—with a blast of gunpowder and the spray of blood. With a sharp laugh that caused the pirates closest to him to draw back in vague fear since Maxwell had never been a predictable (or sane) sort of man, Duo let out a happy bark, “Parley! That’s the word. Seems as if I’d forget my own head next. Yes, parley.”

One particularly edgy pirate had had enough of all this hostage taking. It was practically un-pirate-like. “Damn to the depths the meat headed briny cowards who thought o’ parley!”

“That would be the French.” Said Duo, ever helpful.

“I believe I was the one who told you that, if I recall correctly.” The smooth voice of Winner carried over the silence as the sea of pirates parted ways to allow him through.

To his credit, Duo did not betray a hint of emotion besides congeniality as Quatre walked right up to him. There was not even a tremor of a hand waiting to reach for a dagger. Winner had always admired how steady and cheerful Maxwell could be in the face of any situation. He was a man that you didn’t play poker with. Then again, neither was Quatre, but for the reason that if he thought it would benefit him he wouldn’t hesitate to accuse of you of cheating and kill you before you could prove otherwise. They both recognized in the other the same self-interested drive that drove them to crave attention, power, leadership. But there can’t be two kings in a country or two captains of a ship.

“You all remember Captain Maxwell, boys.” Quatre gave his brightest smile. “Kill him.”

“You’d be making a big mistake.” Duo chirped.

Quatre spun around, gun ready, whatever Duo was about to say if it wasn’t just what he wanted to hear then he was pulling the trigger himself just like he should have done long ago. “What mistake would that be?”

“The ceremony didn’t work did it? The girl’s blood was insufficient.” The smug condescension that Duo managed to exude even with dozens of guns pointed at his head ready to go off only further impressed Quatre.

It didn’t take much logic to arrive at the correct guess as to why Duo looked so pleased with himself. “You know whose blood we need.”

“Aye.”

Quatre thought about pulling the trigger anyway. It might be a bluff. Then again, if it wasn’t, then delaying this man’s life wasn’t as painful a task as it could be. Maybe it was a hidden stroke of luck that he should show up so advantageously. The gun came down and the other pirates followed suit with their leader.

“To the boats men, if this man tells the truth then we shan’t lose another moment.”

“Erm, captain?”

Duo stifled the urge to say ‘yes’, and Quatre snuck him a glance as he covered his mouth and coughed at the last second.

“What!? I said to the boats!”

“That’s the thing, captain. . . we haven’t any oars.”

He looked at the sky, he took a deep breath, he counted to ten, and after all of that Quatre looked to Duo. “This is your doing isn’t it?”

“I take it my friendly prank was ill timed?” Maxwell was irrepressible.

Somewhat interested, but mostly incredulous, Winner gave Duo a measured glance. His curisosity won out over his irritation momentarily. “However did you manage to get off that island?”

It was too easy. “When you marooned me on that nasty strip of land, you forgot one very important thing, mate: I'm Captain Duo Maxwell.” The hearty laugh that followed put more than a few of the pirates on edge, grasping at sword handles or gun triggers depending on preference.

Quatre just massaged his temples and sighed. He gave the order to find as many oars as possible and start transporting men back to the ship to ready it for departure. The entire crew had left, and it would take a least an hour or two to ready the ship, thus putting them at a disadvantage if they wished to catch Maxwell’s friends’ ship. Winner wasn’t entirely sure that that was the best course of action, but it was the only constructive task he could set for the crew as he waited for more information from their former captain.

It was good to be on The Black Death again. Duo tried not to show the proud sense of ownership that seemed to want to run off of him at the very feel of the wood beneath him. It didn’t matter that the ship looked ill used, this was his ship, and he was sure it knew it, somehow. Even the weather seemed to feel better, as if a strong wind mattered much when the ship seemed to power itself forward regardless of the environment. The beautiful mahogany table he used to eat off of still gleamed, though whether because it was well taken care of or because it went unused for the most part, he didn’t hazard a guess. Quatre sat across from him, considering the offer which Duo had just made. Once they had managed to gather the oars and get back on board the ship, it seemed as if there was a strange sort of desperation that seized the crew. Quatre knew he was treading a thin line as their leader, and if he messed up again who knew what ambitious man would step up to take the reigns.

“Let me get this straight,” Quatre said through tented fingers. “You expect to leave me,”

“And a few select crew members. . .”

“. . .and a few of my crew, on a deserted island with naught else but a name and your solemn oath it’s the correct name. Then, I watch you sail away on my ship?”

Duo shook his head and chuckled. “Actually, I plan to leave you and some of your comrades on an island without any name at all, and then when I have sailed a distance away on my ship I would shout the name back at you.”

“This assumes I trust your word. Why would a sensible person make such a disadvantageous agreement?” Quatre leaned forward with a sneer, but Maxwell did not look intimidated.

“Of the two of us I am the only one who hasn't committed mutiny, therefore my word is the one we'll be trusting.” There was something approaching glee in Duo’s voice. Of course he would tell Quatre the name. He had everything to gain from that situation, whether Winner was aware of that or not. “But really, I have every reason to be grateful to you for your quaint little bid for power because if you hadn’t left to die on that godforsaken spit of sand I would have an equal share in that curse of yours.”

Quatre growled low in his throat.

“I don’t suppose you see it with the same humor I do. That’s understandable.” Duo gave an exaggerated yawn. “Now if you’ll excuse me, it has been a remarkably busy day and I wish to sleep.”

At this point, Quatre wondered if there would ever be a time when the braided pirate didn’t surprise him. “Sleep? What of my infamous treachery? Doesn’t that fill you with unease, hatred, suspicion. . . anything?”

“I don’t live with a guilty conscience.” Came Duo’s simple answer and a casual but expressive shrug. “Why should I put myself through hell just because you happen to be living in one?” That smug look was back in place, and all Duo’s ex-first mate could do was pick himself up and exit before he killed their last chance to learn the possible identity of the curse-breaker.

As soon as Quatre left the room, Duo’s carefree persona fell and he allowed the rage that burned within him to surface. It was an indulgent moment. The way his flesh crawled in the presence of that man was enough to drive him nearly insane over the need to control himself. There was time to be patient, now that he was so close. He had the situation well in hand. He hoped.

Collapsing from exhaustion as well as from a natural need for sleep, Duo assumed that he would be awakened as soon as The Wing was sighted. With any luck, Hilde would be at the helm and steering them away from the island as fast as possible. She was skillful, nearly as skillful as himself, but nothing could outrun The Black Death for long. It was a point of pride. Soon this traveling piece of joy would be in his hands again, and once it was there he would never let go again.

*
*
*

Trowa moved around the deck for the first time since Midii had knocked him out hours ago. It was dawn now and people were changing shifts with a few notable exceptions. Hilde, apparently, from what he was hearing through whispered exchanges, had not left her post since she learned of Maxwell’s (probable) death. Her eyes were set forward decidedly on returning to Sandrock. Chang was the second one who was refusing to relinquish his position as he ordered people about who seemed too stunned to do their jobs correctly. If it wasn’t for him, and his ability to take charge, the ship would have been falling apart about them at this very moment. It was a shame that such a strong minded and collected person such as he was wasting his life away as a pirate. That was Chang’s choice, and Trowa would make sure there was a noose waiting for him all the same once he was back in his usual circumstances and with the added power Kushrenada was investing in him.

The last one on the deck was Heero, but unlike the other two he did not seem to be performing any useful function. Sightlessly he regarded the sea below them, and the general tension in his frame would have made him suspect he had actually failed to secure Miss Peacecraft if he hadn’t known through the rumor mill that that was impossible. Miss Peacecraft was safe in Yuy’s quarters, and honestly Barton was surprised Yuy wasn’t there with her. He had heard rumors over the years and it wasn’t as if it was a large town that Gov. Peacecraft resided in. If this wasn’t positive proof of the connection that those two shared, then he didn’t know what would be. At this point there was little point in pursuing Miss Peacecraft any longer, and the thought filled him with little else but a sense of inconvenience.

There seemed no reason to hide his identity from Yuy, under the circumstances. Heero barely moved when Trowa tapped him on the shoulder. That was worrisome. The young blacksmith was known for a tendency to react violently to such things in the past, providing himself with a threatening enough reputation to gain him the solitude and general isolation that benefited his productivity but stunted him socially.

“Yuy,” he said close to Heero’s ear.

Heero turned, allowing a brief interested glance before pondering the water below them again. When it seemed like there was going to be no other response from the young man, Trowa began to walk away. Before he was too far away, Heero reached out an arm and quickly stopped him.

“Go to Relena.” It was an order from Heero, and the tone of it was displeasing to Barton who had not taken orders so arbitrarily in ages but now found himself bossed around by all sorts of individuals since embarking on this endeavor. “She needs a familiar face.” Barton stifled the urge to ask why he didn’t go himself. There were forces here he obviously wasn’t aware of. That mattered not. At the very least he could act as a guard to the Governor’s sister. That was a worthy use of his time.

Hunching his body up again, Barton shuffled his way towards the kitchens first to give Midii a heads up about his plan. She was preparing breakfast foods, hair down in long slightly wavy blond strands as it dried from a previous washing. When she didn’t turn at his entrance, he wondered if perhaps he hadn’t heard him but when she shoved a piece of bread under his nose he revised that opinion.

“I’ve been placed under ‘orders’ by ‘commander’ Yuy to see to our guest’s safety.” Another piece of bread was thrust under his nose, which he gently took. “So, I will stay in those quarters for the time being.”

It seemed to him as if Midii was beating those eggs rather more furiously than was necessary. She was leaning forward too far, and the heavy damp hair was trying to enter the mixture so she tossed it back with a vigorous flip of her head. Trowa found himself with a face full of wet hair. Together they extracted the golden masses from his person, and he watched the severe lines of her face soften as she unwound some hair from around a button.

“Are you still going to propose to her?” Midii felt stupid for letting something like that trouble her, but she thought that if he was going to use the situation for his own gain when they were still in trouble and the girl was most likely in an unstable mental state. . . Who was she trying to kid? She just didn’t like the idea. When Trowa had told her about what his plans had been and how he had gotten into this whole mess as she helped ease the bruises she had caused in the pursuit of his own safety, Midii had developed a vague dread for the upcoming meeting with the amazing Miss Peacecraft. Even if the words Trowa used in conjunction with her were “duty” and “responsibility,” there was that wonder there if there was more than he was saying.

It was with a slightly more considering look that Trowa answered. “Actually, even I wasn’t sure that she would turn me down, I don’t think it’s necessary anymore. Now that I think about, it seems as if it was a hasty decision.” He held the last bit of Midii’s hair unwound from his body, and then seemed to come back to himself and dropped it almost guiltily.

“Take this too.” Midii stopped him before he got to the door and handed him two mugs of fruit juice, a precious commodity and from her own personal supplies when even water was on somewhat limited rationing. Trowa smiled his little half smirk at her, grateful, and disappeared with a little salute in her direction as he hunched down to enter the outside world once more as ‘Moony’.

*
*
*

Relena felt wretched. She had had some fitful sleep but didn’t have any the benefits of being rested. It was likely she looked as bad as she thought she did. Heero was somewhere unknown and a man who sounded remarkably like Captain Barton had been trying to convince her of letting him enter for the better part of an hour, but she had refused to listen to him and he had gone silent and presumably left after the first twenty minutes of her complete silence. Did these pirates think she was so gullible to really take their word for it when they said that Heero sent them? Ha. She wasn’t attended to and praised by her tutors for nothing, and she hadn’t even needed to bring the force of her persuasiveness to bear on the situation because she had buried her head underneath a pillow moments after the first words had been exchanged. It had smelled like Heero. . . and fish. How very appropriate, comforting and yet slightly off.

The words about his father troubled her. His father had been a pirate. So what. That meant absolutely nothing to her in the grand scheme of things. Then again, if someone had suddenly come up to her and told her that her brother was a murderous traitor to the crown she would probably be troubled as well. A big problem with that analogy, however, was that she had not been separated from her brother at an early age forcefully or mysteriously. Heero had different issues and feelings to confront and she had owned up to the fact that she could not help him through it except by being there until he was ready to talk. It had been a long time since he had spoken of his family, or the lack of one. Once she recalled vaguely him saying that she was the only family he had left, and at the time she had pitied him for it. Having no family would have been easier for him to continue to bear than the knowledge that his family had left him with a legacy of blood and lies.

Facedown in the pillow, Relena sighed in some more of the musty pillow scent and then tumbled off the side of the bed and onto her side with an unladylike curse as the ship lurched to the side suddenly. There was pounding outside of the door of heavy booted feet running around above and in the hallways. Shouting came from outside, and her adrenaline levels rose with her stress and curiosity. It wasn’t fair to be left in the dark like this. She weighed the possibility of putting herself in danger with her tolerance for her continued ignorance. In the end, danger lost as the worse thing to bear. She pushed up from the floor and dug the key out from her pocket, and after a few tries managed to steady her hand enough to get the key in the lock and turn it. The first thing she did was nearly trip over the bundle of cloth positioned in her doorway.

“Miss Peacecraft, you should stay inside.”

“Mr. Barton?!” Her shock was evident, and she felt slightly foolish for her disbelieving denial of entrance previously. “Are you feeling well this morning?” In his presence she automatically reverted to her genial and formal politeness as she gave a curtsey, (looking and feeling a little awkward in pants while doing it), bracing against the doorframe to keep from falling over in the rocking ship.

“This is not the time for this Miss Peacecraft. It would be best if you were somewhere safe when the fighting. . .” He fell silent as two men ran past, affixing sabers to their sides and ignoring the other two occupants of the hallway entirely. “Get back into this room and wait for a signal to come out.”

Relena didn’t like being coddled. She didn’t want to be talked down to and told to hide when Heero was in danger and now Trowa too was going to face the enemy. Some bloodyminded part of her brain decided that even if she was a nuisance, she was going to be on that deck and she was going to do her best to protect Heero. He couldn’t die here, and she wouldn’t let him. The hardening behind her bright blue eyes gave away none of these thoughts as she smiled ever so genteelly at Trowa.

“Yes of course, Mr. Barton. I will wait as long as I feel I must. Please don’t worry about me.” She rushed back in the room and with another polite curtsey and a smile she closed the door and turned the lock. The ten minutes she waited were some of the longest of her life. But when she opened the door and there was no disguised Captain Barton waiting for her she knew she had to take her chance now or just forget about it and be a shrinking flower in that room which might just as well be a deathtrap.

It was a mess on deck. People were shouting about cannons and gunpowder while Hilde grappled with the steering column and Heero simply waiting pensively, his eyes never leaving the black sails that were becoming illuminated in the morning light as they neared the ship. It didn’t take long for Relena to find her way over to him, but rather than interrupt she decided to make her way to Hilde instead. The intent in his face had seemed frightening violent, and right now what she wanted the safety and softness that she associated with female company. The woman at the wheel, even with her short hair and rough look, was still noticeably female and that was enough at the moment.

“Do we have any chance of outrunning them?” Relena yelled to be heard over dozens of other voices yelling to one another. Hilde managed to hear Relena over the din and gave her a look of surprise and then anger.

“This is no place for the likes of you, lady, get somewhere safe!”

Relena had had enough of this. “Tell me somewhere safe to go and I’ll go there!”

This managed to extract a humorless bark of laughter from the pirate maid. “Have it your way, lady.” Hilde looked over her shoulder and then up at the sails. “Not a chance in all the hells that we could outrun that demon rig!” Came the response to Relena’s first question.

“Then why are we running?”

The simple question seemed to startle Hilde. Why indeed? “I like the way you think!” Hilde called out some directions to the men standing near her and suddenly the chaos and noise began to take on a more concentrated quality. “Find something to hold on to, or better yet tie yourself to, and hold on, lady.” Hilde told Relena before attending back to her duties. There was plenty of rope around, so this order was easy enough to follow.

Once The Black Death had gotten close enough, the entire crew on The Wing seemed to be prepared for something. Hilde gave a command and the anchor dropped off the side, with a splash. Everyone held their breath and the creak of ropes and wood was all that interrupted the roar of the breaking waves until with a collective groan the ship heaved itself to the side. The cannons fired off, deafening from Relena’s perspective, and she saw one hit but do little to damage the other, larger, ship. This was just a preamble to the battle; The Wing didn’t have enough artillery to hold off The Black Death as it was just a transport constructed primarily for speed.

The menacing opposing ship with its tattered black sails flapping in the winds was so close that Relena could already see the crew, skin boiling beneath the imperfect protection of their hats and clothes. As much as she wanted to scream and faint, she knew it would be neither helpful nor wise. She raised her arm in a taunt to answer along with the others on deck, when her raised arm was clamped down upon by a strong hand.

“Why are you here?” Heero demanded of her.

“You don’t expect me to stay below, while everyone around me fights and dies?” His silence and grim expression were enough answer. “You’re not my keeper Heero Yuy!”

He tightened his lips but didn’t drag her back below deck as she had half expected him to do as soon as he noticed her presence. “Stay with me and don’t even think about fighting them yourself. You’ll reach your brother alive, I swear it.”

Relena tried to not let her voice crack. “You mean ‘we’.” Heero focused his eyes on the cursed pirates of the other ship preparing their attempt to board.

Then there was no more time for speaking as the battle began, pitched but short. Relena saw little of it as a fire started somewhere below and the air filled with smoke almost immediately. Under that cover, however, the mismatched crew on The Wing fared better against their immortal foes. The screams of those unlucky enough to be caught the downward swing of a sword or the rip of a chain hurt Relena’s soul more than it hurt her ears, but she forced herself to concentrate on what was before her: Heero. She had seen him in formal fencing battles before and she knew his skill was unparalleled, but it was quite another thing to see those killing blows land and blood to spill forth. It was also surreal to watch the way those fallen under his sword would just get up again with a smile and continue the battle either with him or with passing other members of the crew.

The smoke was thick and Relena’s eyes watered as she tried to keep track of Heero while he was maneuvered away by a particularly adept enemy. He was lost to her almost immediately in a cloud. A hand reached for her waist and she slapped as hard as she could while bringing her heel down on her attacker’s foot. The smoke cleared enough for her to see her opponent and her hands flew to her face.

“Captain Maxwell, I’m ever so sorry!”

“You and you’re boyfriend need to find other ways to deal with your frustrated emotions!” Duo replied, limping forward a step to grab her and lead her towards The Black Death.

She began to struggle when she realized his intent and demanded regally, “What are you doing? Don’t you touch me like that!”

“Whether you know it or not, princess,” The nickname was intoned in a rather uncomplimentary way. “This ship, the pride of His Majesty’s navy, is about to blow itself into toothpicks with the help of all the gunpowder in its belly. We need to get to the other ship right now.”

“Heero!” Relena tried to get his attention, lost in the smoke and death.

Duo clapped a hand over her mouth. “Save your breath and run!”

They made it to The Black Death, where many of the men from The Wing were already behind held hostage at gunpoint. It seemed that few had died, if any, and she searched faces for the one she had been separated from shortly before. No Heero. The explosion behind them was large enough to knock a few men back, and Relena shielded her face from the wave of heat. Blank despair rocked her body and she fell to her knees. The hysterics of this one girl went largely unnoticed as life went on as usual for the pirates.

“So is one of these reprobates is the infamous son of Odin the Ogre?”

“Would I be stupid enough to let you just walk right up and take an important hostage like that?” Duo laughed, but internally he was churning out a way to be able to play this new turn of events to his advantage. He had thought that kid would be harder to kill then through a simple mistake like not getting off the damn. . .

“Ah well.” Winner turned to Relena, crouched on the ground still, not yet possessing enough of her mind to cry just yet for what she had lost. “I assume you still have the medallion girl?” He gestured and some pirates picked her up off the ground and roughly searched her limp body until they found their prize. Quatre wound his hands around it greedily.

When she saw it in his hands, Relena seemed to snap. “Take it! What good will it do you now?” Her laugh sent a shiver up the spines of even some of the hardened pirates. They knew when someone was close to madness.

“What does the girl mean, Maxwell?”

“You see, Odin Yuy. . .” Duo struggled to find the words to begin his newest attempt at total nervy bluffing.

“Odin Yuy was my father! I am Heero Yuy!” The boy who was dripping, singed, bloody, but obviously thriving was on the side of the ship deck and towering over the pirate he had just knocked down and stolen a gun from. Just like he thought, the kid was harder to kill than that. Unfortunately, he was also upset and apparently suicidal. This made everything more complicated. Heero, in the meantime, still looked absolutely fixated on the men touching Relena. “Now let the girl go.”

Quatre laughed at this new impudence. “What could you possibly be thinking Mr. Yuy? You’ve only got one shot and, try as we might, we can’t die.” The cursed pirates, suffering still under the sun’s harsh rays, still managed to laugh.

It didn’t take a genius to see what was in Heero’s eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid!” Duo cried.

“You can’t.” Heero cocked the gun and placed it closer to his head than anyone was comfortable with at the moment. There was no faltering in his resolve and suddenly Quatre too knew what kind of man he was dealing with. It didn’t do any good to intimidate a man with death when he wasn’t afraid of it. “But I can.”

Duo groaned. “Like that.”