Fantasy Stars In His Eyes

[Neal Caffrey]

Caspian stared at the horizon as the land came into view. It was still impossible to see the people milling about on the shore, but he knew that they were there, celebrating some Fordellian holiday or another. That's why Moressley was the target for the day. There were going to be vendors, noblemen, and possibly even royals, all in one place. Despite protest from Cass, he knew that there would also be bloodshed.

"You ever been?"

Jacobs voice pulled Cass out of his thoughts. He turned around and saw his friend there, cleaning a blunderbuss. "Hm?" Cass asked.

"You ever been to Fordella?" Jacobs repeated.

"Oh, yeah," Cass answered, "a couple years ago." He remembered the grueling trip from Lake Iesla in Balbinia to the freezing cold air of Fordella. "You?"

Jacobs shook his head. "Nah. Too cold for my liking. I'm good with our in and out plan." He saw the way that Cass was eyeing his weapon and lowered it. "You good?"

Cass nodded. He knew that some of the other crew members saw him as weak because of his distaste for killing, but Jacobs had never judged him. Thaddeus hated that trait in Cass, though, but he still usually let Cass get away with prisoner duty on these runs. "Yeah, 'course I'm good. Where's Cap?"

"Dunno. Probs below, gettin' ready," Jacobs said with a shrug. There was a sharp whistle from the crows nest, and Jacobs whistled back. "Almost time ta go. See ya after?"

"Yeah," Cass said. "Don't get killed."

As Jacobs left, Cass headed to his own station. He'd be manning the 'acquisitions' crew, basically meaning that he would be telling his crewmates who to kidnap. Cass was perfect for the job, in that he could usually tell who would get them the most in ransom. He didn't mind that part. After all, he had been a target himself once. What was the harm in spreading the wealth?

"Mornin', Cassie," one of the crew members greeted.

"Choose your words carefully, Marcus," Cass warned as he approached the group. Thaddeus told him that he needed to learn to assert his dominance over the others if he were to ever hope to become captain. "We all know the routine by now. I expect each and every one of you to do your part."

He continued speaking, assigning specific roles as they drew closer to the shore. Once they were close enough, the chaos began.

The crew boarded their rowboats and headed toward the docks. Luckily for them, the festival expected visitors, so there was no alarm. There would be no indication that anything was amiss until the first shot was fired.

Cass and his crew got in position. Cass whispered to the others, indicating their targets, before searching for a target of his own. He scanned the crowd, walking with his hands in his pockets as he surveyed the scene. There were some whispers of disgust as he walked by, as he knew there would be. As much as he disliked hearing the slurs that were constantly hurled his way, he was used to them by now. Besides, he had no time for petty arguments.

Suddenly, he spotted a young man behind a candy stall. Despite the young man's current position, it was clear that he was of noble birth. He was undeniably perfect. His light brown hair looked soft, silky, and clean. It was definitely well attended to, unlike Cass'. He was thin, but not underweight, and his smile was light and playful, but was Cass noticed most was his eyes. Even from across the path Cass could see the beautiful blue color of his eyes, and the shimmer of life that was behind them.

He approached the stall, as if drawn by a magnet.

Cass didn't say anything as he stood across from the young man, staring at him for a second too long. He barely registered the man saying something to him, something kind, nonjudgmental, before the first gunshot rang through the air.

Within a second, Cass pulled a dark sack from the place it was tucked in the back of his belt and pulled it over the man's face. That worked to stun him long enough for another crew member to press their gun to his side while Cass tied him up.

"Don't bother putting up a fight," Cass growled into the young man's ear. "Come with us." He pushed the young man forward, toward the boat, while ducking through the chaos of the crowd. Gunshots and screams continued around him, but Cass blocked them out.

He had just secured his crew a hefty sum. He was sure of it.

 

[smolfluffball]

Today was meant to be a boring day.

The Spring Festival was held every year. Every year, Sheyric Baelle needed to attend it, to reassure the townsfolk that, yes, his family was still here and still as loyal and dedicated to Moressley as they always had been. He didn’t mind going out to interact with all of the townsfolk, with all of the people he had grown up around, but it was annoying now because of that stupid scandal he had gotten himself involved in. That incident had mostly been forgotten by the younger people in town, but there were always those who held onto whispers and their hate. Avoiding them was a good solution, though not something that would last in the long term. Thankfully, there were those in town who didn't mind whatever sort of drama Shey found himself in. He leaned, now, against the cart of one such people, listening to the older man go on a rant about some birds who had been causing a commotion on his rooftop a week ago.

Birds. That was the news of the day. That was how he knew this day was going to be boring. Shey watched the townsfolk ambling about idly, expression relaxed. No one was brave enough to confront him about his former male lover. No one wanted to speak with him about any other rumors they had heard of. The new exciting thing in town was a family of animals. The pleasant wind and the smell of flowers would bring absolutely nothing exciting or interesting into town. Even the smell of the food being prepared among the carts, and the smell of foreign people, the scents on their clothes and in their hair, mingling among the Moressley crowd, was not very fun. This happened every year. This was the same thing as last year. Same place as last year. Same people. Same buildings. Same streets. Everything was the same as last year, except this time there was a family of birds watching from a rooftop and he had a stupid new rumor about him. No one wanted to step up to him and make his day interesting. Because all of the townsfolk kind of sucked. They were too polite.

He did like his town. Truly. But it was stale. The fun came with the foreigners, the people who didn’t understand his position in town, then left with them. They took the excitement out to sea and away from his familiar streets and familiar faces. He had no interest to go exploring, at all. Content he was, in his chateau, surrounded by his servants and siblings and parents and luxurious things. It was a wonder, though, what was out there, in other places. Too bad he wasn’t one for going on boats and sailing away. Perhaps he was too in love with his boring town and his boring townsfolk, and the kind elderly ladies and the stray alley cats and boisterous birds, to actually leave it all behind.

The bread Allister made was delicious and he always saved the darker colored rolls for him. The chocolate from Veril’s store was delicate and melted on his tongue, in a way nothing else ever did. The hand-made blankets from Cyrian were so warm and comfortable to snuggle under during the freezing winter months; they wrapped him in a gentle warmth not unlike a hug. But, still. Dull. Uninteresting. It was all too familiar.

He spotted something unfamiliar from afar and tilted his head to peer around the wooden beam he was by. A darker skinned man was looking at him. He seemed to be fit and attractive, at least from this distance. Perhaps Shey had caught the eye of some foreigner. That might be exciting. Enny was going on about a candy that he struggled with making last night, but he was now holding out a treat for the nobleman's son to take.

Shey stared at it, blanking on what the candy-maker had just said to him.

“Would you like to try it?” Enny asked again, smiling gently at the young lord.

“Is it tart?” Shey asked, plucking the candy from Enny’s hand and holding it up against the sun. It was round and clear but had speckles of some fruit inside of it. Not sticky, either, Shey observed, squeezing his fingertips against the candy.

“That particular one is,” Enny said cheerfully, grinning when Shey looked at him. He was a kindly older gentleman and had a mustache that made him look like the grandfather that Shey never got to have. “I know how much you favor tart berries.”

“You made this for me?” Shey asked, mildly surprised.

“If you like it, my lord, then I believe everyone else in town will want to have it, as well.”

Ah. Shey smiled and tossed the candy up gently, then caught carefully again. “A smart play, Enny. Even if I don’t like it you can tell everyone that I do.” He winked at the stunned look on the old man’s face. “I know last month was difficult for you. A new favorite candy in your shop would help fill your coffers, would it not?”

“My lord—” Enny stammered. His face reddened, nose turning a bright pink, cheeks flushing fiercely. “I could not do that! Lie to everyone?” He shook his head. “I believe you will like the candy, anyway, Shey." A smile was earned at the use of the familiar nickname. "If you do not then I will figure out something else to make.”

“Let’s see if you’re right.” Shey popped the candy in his mouth and lolled it around his tongue, tasting the tartness of the berries and sweetness of the sugar come together in a fascinating way. He pushed the hard candy to the side of his mouth and smiled. “You are, Enny. Yet again. How is it that you know what sort of treats I like even before I do?”

“I remember your mother’s favored flavors, from back when she was you’re age. You have the same tastes as her.” Enny glanced behind his shoulder, then leaned closer to Shey, who was still playing with the candy in his mouth. “Was there someone pretty who caught your eye?”

“Are we gossiping now?” Shey asked, grinning. He always enjoyed how carefree Enny was with him, even when he was still a child. With age, Enny seemed to become even more his friend, even more like a grandfather to him. “There was a stranger who was staring at me.” He nodded the direction the stranger had been at, then noticed he was approaching. “Busy yourself with something, please,” Shey hissed, pushing the candy to the side of his mouth again and moving around the cart to get a better look at the stranger.

Definitely a foreigner, with his dark colored skin and dark hair. He was taller than Shey was and had an intense look in his oddly light colored eyes. It was difficult to tell the color, but the stranger came to stand in front of him. Shey pulled up an easy smile and looked the man over, but his eyes were drawn to his face again, to the eye color. Gray. Quite a unique color, when compared to the appearance of this stranger.

Did this man know of the rumors? Or was he seeking companionship? How bold he would be, to approach Shey so easily, in broad daylight like this. It was rather surprising, actually. An interesting thing happening on this otherwise boring day. It could be fun, perhaps, playing with this stranger. “Hello, foreigner,” Shey said, still smiling. The candy knocked against his teeth. “Welcome to Moressley. Are you here to celebrate our springtime? There’s quite a few—”

A gunshot rang out through the air and Shey reached behind his back for his dagger, moving to protect Enny. He hadn’t been paying attention to the stranger and froze, confused, when his vision went dark. There was something rough against his face, then something firm and metallic against his back.

Fuck.

Admittedly, this was not the first time a situation like this had happened. Shey hadn’t pulled his dagger out completely and pushed it back into its sheath, deciding to wait until later to actually use it. That is, if these capturers didn’t take it from him. He couldn’t gauge how skilled they were at kidnapping people, since he had a single point of reference to compare them to. He did feel the rope around his wrists and wanted to yank away. He resisted the urge and breathed out through his nose, calming his accelerated heart rate, when some accented voice whispered in his ear and told him not to fight.

Fine. He wouldn’t. Yet. He listened for a moment as more gunshots rang out and heard Enny speaking quickly, panicked. There was so much noise around him and he couldn’t make out anything through the fabric over his head. Was Enny okay? Did he get shot? No, surely he hadn’t. Shey didn’t recall seeing him stumble or act hurt in any way. He sounded uninjured. Shey felt someone shove him forward and stumbled. Uncouth. Barbaric. Annoying.

And, upsettingly, not boring. He did not want this day to be un-boring like this.

“It’s okay,” he said loudly over his shoulder, for Enny. “It’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me. This is just a minor inconvenience, at most. I’ll be back soon. Tell my parents—”

The gun pressed deeper into his back and someone nudged his side, hard. He bit back a remark and felt the candy still in his mouth. He sucked on it for a moment, considering what he could possibly do to get out of this. Obviously he had been targeted because these people knew he was some kind of nobility, and he was not going to act as if he wasn’t. He was not going to beg or bargain, either. As soon as he realized who his capturers were, he would have a better understanding of what was going on. When his hands were free, and they would be free as soon as he could possibly manage, he would feel much less annoyed. Whatever opportunity he noticed after the sack was off his head, he’d take. He needed to be in control of this situation.

If these people were smart, they would have put a gag in his mouth to keep him from speaking.

“Did that handsome stranger partake in this kidnapping?” Shey asked, smiling. The noises around him were not pleasant to his ears. Who was being captured? Who was being shot? Where were the knights? Was Enny okay? “Am I the object of his affection and he thought I wouldn’t be interested in him, so he thinks the only way I’ll ever notice him is by doing this? I would like to tell him that he does not need to do anything that drastic to catch my attention. I actually thought he was quite appealing when I first laid eyes on him. An interesting stranger, in this boring coastal town, with those pretty eyes and those shoulders and arms. Is he here, with you all? Can you tell him I think he’s rather attractive? If he’s with you all, could he be the one to take care of me? I am a very difficult person to care for and would like it if the criminal tending to me was someone that I liked the appearance of. Because, you see, if I am pleased, then I become significantly easier to take care of. If someone ugly becomes my keeper then I might just stage a rebellion against you all and teach you how to care for people like me. You most likely don’t want someone to stage a rebellion against you, do you? Oh, am I talking too much? I do that when I get nervous.”

He didn’t really.

“Tell me, please, dear capturers, where is it that you’re taking me? I'll tell you right now that I have several troubles with various different modes of transportation.”

 

[Neal Caffrey]

Enny went uninjured. Cass didn't bother targeting him. He appeared lower class and wasn't a threat in any way. There was no use in wasting resources.

Cass was a little surprised as the young nobleman they'd captured began to speak. He'd never had a target be so... talkative. He sounded almost conversational, as if he wasn't being dragged toward a boat with a sack over his eyes.

When Cass finally listened to the words, he blushed a little. He hoped that none of his crewmates could see it. He had to remind himself that people would say anything that they felt would keep them safe. Apparently, for this young man, that meant flirtation and flattery.

"Ig, die dyx alje," Cass mumbled before pushing the young man a little more forcefully. "Shut up."

He could see their row boat say the dock. He was almost there without any hiccups. It was almost too good to be true...

Before Cass could even finish his thought, a shot rang out close by and he saw blood wet the prisoner's pant leg.

"Dyx," Cass swore. His crew mate shot the guard who'd fired at them, killing him immediately, as Cass scooped the young man up into his arms. There was no way to tell immediately how bad the injury was, so he didn't want to make it worse by forcing him to walk. Luckily, the young man barely weighed a thing, as Cass was in good enough shape to carry him effortlessly to the boat.

"Get in!" Cass yelled at his crew mate as two others climbed on board, one being a prisoner as well. Once everyone was secured, Cass took the oars and powered them toward the main boat.

 

[smolfluffball]

Shey paused in his rambling for a moment, hearing the foreign language near him. What was that? Craxan? It must be that man with the dark hair, then. Had to be. He had the accented voice, and the accent definitely was not something Shey was entirely familiar with. Just like he was not very confident with understanding the language that the stranger just spoke. Why couldn’t it be some other language he knew? There were at least four others he’d be able to understand!

“I’m not going to shut up,” Shey said, shaking his head, even though he was sure it wasn’t visible underneath the sack. The candy was still clacking against his teeth. “I refuse to be silenced by my capturers. My voice is too lovely and I am far too curious to shut up. So, if you’d please, tell me where—”

There was another gun shot and he felt a sharp pain shoot up his leg. He let out a whelp and stumbled, the new pain in his shin catching him by surprise and confusing him. Before he could try to even process what had happened, who had shot him, where the bullet even came from, how bad his injury was, he heard another gun go off, then felt some bold asshole lift him.

He paused momentarily, stunned. Who the hell lifted him? A guard? Someone who saw his kidnapping? But there hadn’t been enough fighting around him to signal that the guards came to his rescue, and the hands were too rough against him. He kicked his legs to try to get the stranger to release him and hissed at the pain, then pushed his tied hands against wherever he could touch on the strange man carrying him. “Let me go,” he said through gritted teeth, shoving the candy to his cheek. “If you don’t put me down soon then I will—”

There was a clattering noise and he was soon deposited on something solid, far more roughly than he would have liked to be. He heard that same accented voice shout a command and kicked with his good leg toward the source of the voice, feeling his boot connect with something that felt like a body. He smiled, pleased, then he felt whatever he was on sway.

“Whoa, hold on,” he said, holding his hands up. He could not see any fucking thing with this sack over his head. He hated it, sincerely. “I said I had a problem with several modes of transportation, and boats are my most despised one. See, I can deal with rough handling and assholes who won’t answer my questions, but being on a sea vessel is where I draw the line.”

He reached forward with his bound hands, blind and just hoping he’d connect with someone. He felt fabric under his fingers and curled his fingers into it, pulling on whoever was the poor person who was sitting next to him. He maneuvered his body, ignoring the hard wood digging into his back and the pain in the leg he was using to leverage himself, and kicked against who he was holding onto, hopefully pushing them the right way, so his threat actually worked. “If you don’t let go of me I’ll push this person off this boat.”

 

[Neal Caffrey]

Cass swore again under his breath when the prisoner kicked him in the shin. "Watch it," he growled. They took off toward the main vessel with incredible speed thanks to Cass' strength.

Cass watched with some amusement as the young man took out his frustration on the prisoner next to him, grabbing him and threatening to throw him off the boat.

"Go ahead," one of the other crew members told the young man. "He's one a yer own. Doesn't look as expensive as you either."

The other men laughed and watched the two as the boat pulled up beside the vessel. Some rope ladders were tossed down the side. Cass pulled the young man close to him and spoke in his ear. "Listen. I am going to untie your hands. You are going to climb the ladder without argument, or else you can go off the side of the boat. I'm guessing by your displeasure at being on a boat that you cannot swim very well, so I would listen if I were you."

 

[smolfluffball]

The person he had grabbed was one of his own people. Of course they were. He released his grip on the poor person and stored that information away for later. Of course there’d be more of his own people on the boat, because these kidnappers were horrible people. Maybe, if he earned enough freedom, he could work with his people to stage a rebellion against their kidnappers. It would take time but Shey was very willing to wait, if it could ensure he managed to get his own people out of this situation safely.

After the new injury to his leg was healed. He didn’t think it was that bad, hopefully. It was painful and he could feel the blood on the fabric of his trousers, but he did still have feeling in his foot. The wound was not helpful toward anything except possibly getting treated just a bit better, if his kidnappers cared at all about taking care of him. He didn’t have enough information yet to decide if they did. They shot people and kidnapped people and tossed him carelessly into a boat after blinding and hurting him, so he wasn’t thinking they’d be too careful with him or anyone else.

Rough hands were on him again, pulling him close. The warmth of the other body against his arm was not reassuring or pleasant in the slightest. Neither were the words spoken softly to him. Right. Untie him, so he could grab his dagger and stab it into the heart of whoever the accented voiced guy was. He knew how to swim and after he stabbed the guy he’d just jump overboard and go back to Moressly. They couldn’t have gotten that far on a small boat like whatever they were on.

But the other people who were kidnapped. And his bleeding leg.

He bit into the candy in his mouth and heard it crack, then ground it together into mush. It was sugary and sweet, slightly tart, and it was not helping to boost his mood at all. Even when the rough hands loosened the rope around his wrists and it fell away, his mood was still completely sour. He stayed still for a moment to make sure the handsy stranger - probably the one who picked him up like he was simply a sack of potatoes and not a lord, the guy with the interesting gray eyes and interesting accent - wouldn’t tie his hands together again. When he did not, Shey shook off his hands and tested that his fingers still worked.

“I’m going to have to remove the lovely thing atop my head in order to see properly,” he said lightly, reaching up and pulling on a corner of the thick burlap sack. It slid off and over his hair easily and he squinted against the sun reflecting off the water, but he tossed the rough sack into the ocean that was all around him.

He ran his hands through his hair to smooth it down and surveyed the situation as discreetly as he could. He was on a rowboat stopped next to a much larger ship, and on this rowboat were two people with sacks over their heads and three people covered in grime and looking very unkempt and unappealing, except the gray-eyed one wasn't too dirty. Those ones, the grimes ones, must have been the kidnappers, and the people with their heads covered had to be his own people. Okay. He now knew how many of his people these disgusting people kidnapped.

Two. Really not ideal. He could work with it, even if it wasn’t as large a number as he wanted. He was thankful there weren’t too many of his people who had been kidnapped along with him, but having fewer numbers when compared to the kidnappers wouldn’t be that great. He’d figure it out later, because the grimey kidnappers with their greasy hair and missing teeth were giving him completely nasty looks.

He huffed and ran his hands through his hair again, then after giving the gray-eyed guy a wink and flirty smile, ascended the rope ladder. He winced at the first step up, but tried to ignore the pain as best he could and moved carefully, slower than he would have liked. It didn't take him long to get over the railing and dirty calloused hands were waiting to grab him. He managed a look around the deck before his hands went back behind his back and he was pulled away from the ladder that lead down and to freedom, which he didn't think he'd be able to achieve now anyway. He couldn't tell exactly how many people were on the ship; he saw bodies here and there but couldn't get a solid count of them. He guessed more than ten, easily. A ship this size would need at least fifteen people to man it properly. Maybe twenty.

They were dressed like pirates. A pirate ship. At least two of his people kidnapped, plus himself. A wound to his leg. Again, not ideal, but he could work with it.

The rough guy holding onto him pulled him to the center of the deck. He felt eyes on him, and he did not like the way any of them were looking at him.

"Can I ask your dear captain what exactly he wants to do with me?" he asked loudly, looking around at the spectators. "I am incredibly high maintenance and also have an injury to my person. I demand to be treated and taken care of properly. If you don't listen to me, I may have to do something you all would dislike."

 

[Neal Caffrey]

Cass watched the man's hands carefully, making sure that he didn't do anything stupid. As the man winked at him, Cass rolled his eyes. Was there something about Cass that screamed, "flirt with me?"

He followed him up the ladder, just in case he stumbled or fell because of his injury. Once they got to the deck, Marcus pulled the young man over the side and tied his hands once again. Cass pulled himself up onto the deck and patted the man down. He found a dagger and tossed it to Jacobs as he pulled himself onto the deck. "Can probably get... I'd say two fifty for that alone," he commented.

Marcus laughed out loud at the young rich man's threat. "Oh? And what would that be, pretty boy?" He put his own dagger underneath the man's chin and raised it. "Cap will do what he wants. You might be a big deal on land, but out here, yer no better than any of us."

Cass pushed Marcus away. "Leave 'im alone, Marcus. He's hurt."

Marcus laughed and pushed Cass back. "You did yer job, Cassie. It's my turn now."

Cass glared at him. "Deal with the others. This one's worth a chest, I can tell. I'll deal with 'im."

"Just like you Crax, always tryin' ta take everythin' for yerself," Marcus growled.

Cass went to retaliate, but he heard a deep voice clear his throat behind him. He immediately stood at attention and turned to face the captain. "Sir," he said dutifully. "We got a few good ones."

"I see that," Thaddeus replied, examining the young man next to Cass.

 

[smolfluffball]

The incredibly handsy gray-eyed man took his dagger from him after he had been touched all over, then he proceeded to toss it to someone else and make an estimation about however much it could go for on a black market, or some such thing. Shey had to make sure he didn’t react to any of what they were saying. He just watched the man who had been tossed the dagger examine it and hoped they’d sell it off for only two fifty, because it was worth double that, at the very least. Better they sell it for less than it was bought for. It'd serve them right, since they kidnapped him and they were pirates and he already hated all of them.

Losing his dagger was fine, though. He'd find something else he could use as a weapon. He was well versed in handling various objects so whatever he could get his hands on would work. He’d just have to be careful whenever he found something useful, so that these kidnappers would not know he had found a new weapon.

He arched an eyebrow when the crass one put a blade under his chin. Hm. Unimpressive. Completely pointless, too, since he knew they wouldn't harm him. If they were going to pawn off his dagger then they also must be looking to pawn off the people they kidnapped. That was worse than them just being pirates.

His eyebrow rose further when the gray-eyed man shoved his pirate comrade away from him, almost protectively. Interesting. The following conversation between the two of them was also enlightening. The brute who tied his hands again and threatened him with the knife was named Marcus. The gray-eyed Craxan was named Cassie, or that was a nickname of his full name, perhaps. He also was, apparently, going to take care of him. Very interesting. He would definitely be using that tidbit of information.

The sudden attention Cassie gave to the man with the deep voice was far less interesting. The commander. The one in charge. Boring. Shey made sure to add the conversation Cassie had just had with Marcus to his mental notes, then focused his attention on the man looking at him. The captain of the pirates. The one who sent them out to go kidnap people - his people - then sell them or exploit them in some horrible way for money.

He smiled sweetly and shifted his weight to his bad leg, then stumbled purposefully and fell against Cassie. “Oops, sorry,” he apologized quickly, pulling away from the taller man. His leg did actually hurt but it wasn’t so bad that he couldn’t put pressure on it. Still, he kept it off the deck and balanced on one leg, using Cassie to help keep him balanced, hoping to achieve the pathetic wounded spoiled rich kid look.

“I was going to ask you something, sir,” he said to the captain, running his free hand through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. He looked off into the distance briefly then frowned, a concerned look gracing his features. “Oh no, I can’t… Seem to remember? I think… How much blood have I lost?” He leaned against Cassie again, groaning. “Ugh, I don’t feel good. Sorry. I… How much blood have I lost?” he repeated, glancing down at his leg, scared. “I didn’t lose that much, did I?”

 

[Neal Caffrey]

Cass caught Shey easily, and held him up by his arms as the captain examined him. Cass rolled his eyes as the man started to complain about blood loss. It was most definitely an exaggeration, but one that Cass would likely get in trouble for.

Thaddeus continued to look the man over. "Hm. You look familiar," he mumbled, circling him menacingly. Finally, his face lit up in recognition. "Sheyric, correct? I've seen your portrait and heard much about you. I must say, you are... Underwhelming."

He had heard about the young man's vanity from traders and passers-by. He found it amusing that they had happened to snare him.

Thaddeus approached Cass. "Now, how is it that you managed to get this valuable thing from the docks?"

Maybe Cass wasn't in trouble, after all. "He was at a vendor's stand, sir. It was easy..."

Thaddeus hit Cass hard across the face. Some crew members looked aware respectfully as Cass' hand instinctively shot to his face to protect himself from further assault that didn't come. Marcus laughed.

"And yet, you managed to fuck it up," Thaddeus said evenly. "Get him into a cabin and tend to him. Now."

Cass clenched his jaw. "Yes, sir," he said, pulling Shey along with him, being careful with his leg.

"The rest of you get to work as well!" Thaddeus shouted. The other men did as they were told.

 

[smolfluffball]

The pirate captain recognized him. His plan worked perfectly, as he suspected it would, but being recognized was just a little bit inconvenient. He had hoped that he'd be able to create a new name and pretend to be someone else, but that hope was now dashed, as the scraggly looking captain circled him like some spooky shark. Gross. Did he realize how unattractive he was? Did he realize how scary he looked? Did he realize he wasn't actually a shark? Did he care? Shey didn't think he did, since he lived on a pirate ship and sent his crew out to steal people. The man probably had no friends or allies or lovers. All his crew probably feared him. He wondered, briefly, about how loyal they were to him, but his thoughts were halted when the pirate captain hit his dear pal Cassie across the face.

Ouch. He realized he'd winced in response to the abuse too late. Thankfully, none of the other pirates seemed to notice. Marcus, the asshole, even laughed. He kept his expression neutral and let Cassie lead him away from the deck, but he knew Marcus would be the first one he killed when he finally enacted his plan. After he killed Marcus, he'd kill the abusive captain. This was a good start to his list, he thought, rather smugly. He might spare Cassie or any of the others if they were nice enough to him.

Cassie, who was being very careful with him. Who held him up. Who was going to tend to him. Who got whacked in the face because he screwed up, somehow. Because Shey was injured? Had he made the situation worse by faking being more hurt than he really was? He couldn't say he really cared if he had, but no one deserved to be abused. Especially not in front of an entire crew full of assholes like Marcus.

He just needed to be careful. If Cassie was going to tend to him while he was injured, then he'd have to make sure the gray-eyed pirate never figured out what he was planning.

Thankfully, he was very good at lying to people. And distracting people. And flirting with people.

"I'm so glad you're going to be the one to take care of me," Shey murmured, squeezing Cassie's bicep softly and leaning against him. "A big strong pirate with a soft spot for the wounded? How did I get so lucky?" He surveyed the below deck Cassie had brought him too and saw several doors along the wall. "Are you taking me to your private room, handsome? Don't you think it's a little too early for that?"

 

[Neal Caffrey]

Cass ignored Shey's comments. His face still stung from the blow, but he needed to push that and the shame out of his mind. He needed to do better, to try harder. He needed to make Thaddeus proud... And right now, that started with taking care of this little rich prick.

He pushed open the door to one of the cabins and led Shey inside. "Sit down," he instructed, motioning to the bed furthest from the door. It was probably the cleanest on the boat, but it still was nowhere near pristine.

The room had been prepacked with medical supplies in case anyone was injured. "I'm going to help you," he told Shey. "And if you kick me, I'm going to be pissed."

He knelt down in front of Shey and cut through the man's pants leg with his knife so he could get to the wound.

 

[smolfluffball]

Kick him? The thought hadn't really crossed Shey's mind, but now that it had been mentioned, he was awfully tempted to do just that. Being demanded to sit down and practically forced onto the bed with mysterious stains was not how he would have liked to be treated. Cassie was being careful with his wound and the knife, though, so he did not think it would be a smart move to actually kick the pirate. Even though he really wanted to. He really wanted to kick all of them. Right off the boat and into the ocean so the sharks could eat them and so he could take over the ship and sail back to Moressley.

He watched Cassie for a moment, then moved his foot forward a little so that the pirate guy could see it better. He grabbed one of the new frayed edges of his pants leg and tore at it, ripping it horizontally. It wrapped around the back of his leg and hung down uselessly, but the wound was easier to see now. Shey ripped the useless fabric off and studied it, taking in the red stains and tear in it from where the bullet got him. It really was a completely useless piece of fabric. He folded it and set it next to him on the bed, placing it behind his back, then leaned forward so he could see his leg better.

His blood was so bright against his skin. He hadn't seen how blood looked against his flesh in so long. It was mildly jarring, but he pulled up a bored expression and rested his chin on his knee. The wound was still seeping. The blood obscured it and was smeared around, which was disgusting. It looked like a rather nasty cut that didn't seem too deep, thankfully, and he still could feel his foot and everything around the injury.

"Do you have any medical training, handsome?" Shey asked conversationally, bringing his eyes up to observe the pirates face. "Will I make it? Or will I have to get the limb cut off?" He paused for a moment, then frowned. "I guess that'd be fitting, since I'm now surrounded by pirates. Would I get a peg leg if I have to lose it?"

 

[Neal Caffrey]

Cass flinched a little when Shey moved, but he played it off by grabbing something next to him. Once the wound was fully visible, Cass poured alcohol over it. "Formal training? Nah, but I should be able to keep ya leg from being shark bait." He examined the wound once it was clean. "It's gonna need a few stitches. I done enough of 'em though ta not kill ya."

As he cleaned, he imagined what he could do do make his mistake up to Cap. Obviously, he would make sure that the rich kid didn't get an infection or cause any trouble, but he needed to do something beyond that. Maybe he could put in some extra hours cleaning. He was going to do that anyway since he was anxious. That had been his habit since he had stepped foot on the ship.

He wiped away as much blood as possible, then searched through his supplies for a needle and suitable thread. "It's gonna scar, though."

 

[smolfluffball]

Stitches? Crude stitches from a pirate? Shey knew he should consider himself lucky that stitches were all he needed, but he felt his eyebrows furrow and the downward curve of his mouth. If he had not been captured then shot then he would not need stitches, and his leg would not scar. He was tempted to tell Cassie to just cut it off and feed it to the sharks, because he did not want it, if it was going to turn ugly.

Something grotesque on his leg. The entire rest of his body was scar free, except for the stupid scars on his fingers. The salve the court physician had created was working to lessen the appearance of them. He realized, and felt his eyebrows furrow further, that he would not be able to get the salve for his fingers and the soon to be scar on his leg until he got back home. And he did not know when he'd be able to return home.

He felt a new wave of hatred for these pirates. Because of his injury, yes, but also because they were kidnappers and brutal to their own crewmates. How were they treating his people, if the captain was abusive to Cassie? He hadn't seen them since he got onto the ship. Were they okay? Were any of them injured, like he was? Would these pirates tend to them like Cassie was about to tend to him? Or would they suffer at the hands of the rest of the crew?

The pirate pulled out a needle and Shey's eyes darted to it, then they flicked back to Cassie's face. He relaxed his expression and brushed his hair behind his ear, then tilted his head, wrapping his arms around his knee. "Can you tell me what your name is, handsome? And how it is exactly that you know how to care for wounds? Oh, and how many people have you kidnapped before? Am I your first? See, I would like to know some information about the man who is going to be my nurse, if you don't mind my curiosity." He blew some hair away from his eyes and sighed. "I think talking with me while you're sewing my injury together is the least you can do, since you took me away from everything. If I had not been taken then I would have no injury for you to stitch together."

 

[Neal Caffrey]

Cass could tell that the young man was scared, and despite his growing annoyance, he couldn't help but sympathize. "My name is Cass," he told the man. He applied a salve to the area meant for numbing, though it wouldn't work completely.

"I used to stitch up slaves after they were whipped too hard, or if someone got injured working. Don't move," Cass told him, making the first stitch. It went in easily.

"And we don't call it kidnapping, we call it 'acquisitions,'" Cass said with a hint of humor in his voice. He made the second stitch.

 

[smolfluffball]

He introduced himself as Cass, huh? So then Cassie must have been a nickname, one that did not seem to suit the gray-eyed pirate at all. Cass, the pirate with the muscles and the pretty eyes and the interesting accent. Cass, the one who changed his day from boring and stale to awful and miserable. Cass, the pirate who got abused by the captain and got laughed at because of it.

Cass and Marcus. Two pirates. The captain. The rest of the crew. His own people. He’d have to figure out everyone else's names eventually so that he could come up with a plan to get out of this situation. Names would be very useful to know, because he knew just how much power was behind one.

The salve Cass spread on his leg tingled slightly, but then it faded. Shey watched the needle move close to his skin and heard Cass say something about slaves. He looked back at the pirate's face and decided to watch him instead of the needle, although seeing what was being done to his injury was probably slightly more important. The pirate could do something wrong and then screw up the stitches, or make the injury worse somehow. He peeked at the needle then slid his eyes back to Cass’ face. If he did something wrong he’d find out later. He didn’t need to watch his injury be sewn back together.

He winced when the needle poked into him but kept his leg still. He squeezed his leg tightly and set his chin on his knee to keep it from twitching and betraying him. How many stitches would he need? Would he be able to keep it clean and free from infection? Hopefully. Maybe he could ask Cass to leave the alcohol behind so that he’d have something to ease the pain.

“Acquisitions,” Shey murmured, softly and neutrally, careful to keep his expression passive. “My father had acquisitions. Delicate fabrics, elegant pottery, wonderful tapestries, pretty jewels, fanciful clothes, stunning landscapes. But never humans.” He rested the side of his head against his knee and kept watching Cass. “Do you think human lives are comparable to pretty jewels, Cass? Are humans only useful if they're profitable? I'm oh so eager to understand the kidnapper mind.”

 

[Neal Caffrey]

Cass could tell that Shey was staring at him while he worked, but he ignored it. He needed to focus on not fucking up. Not that he would, anyway. Cass had always done pretty well with first aid. He continued with the third stitch, careful not to go too deep.

At Shey's question, Cass tensed a little. He acknowledged the irony that he himself had been sold for a profit, and that now he was doing that to others. This was different, though. They had every intention of returning Shey to his life. Cass' life, on the other hand, was treated no more valuably than a mule.

"I think that what we'll be paid is worth disrupting your life for a short time," Cass responded.