"Abandon everything you know, sail with us and we'll show you what it means to be alive."

-  Abandon Ship by Steffan Argus.

*

Besides the raven-haired man named Der who brings him water and the dead-panned brunette girl called Cora who gives him a piece of fruit, Stiles is left in isolation for the night. The Hole is a cell at the very bottom of the ship. It's damp and cold and creaks with every moment the ship makes, and Stiles is locked behind the cold, steel bars for the night. He knows this is a temporary situation, knows the Captain will make a decision by sunrise on what to do with him, and he knows that whatever that decision may be, it'll only mean trouble for him.

Though he tries to stay awake and stay aware, exhaustion overcomes him and Stiles falls asleep on the floor long after the moon has risen. He dreams that night, vividly, graphically, of rough hands and Spanish whispers. He relives it all, the lead up to this very moment and it's a weight in his chest. Even in slumber, the memories are torturous.

He wakes up with the jolt like he's waking up from a nightmare. The sun isn't up and Stiles can't see a thing. Had it not been for the sound of breathing, he would've thought he was alone.

"You're awake." A voice comments. It's the Captain.

He scrambles to stand up immediately but the captain only laughs. "Please. Don't be alert on my behalf."

"It's not even dawn," Stiles notes.

"Perceptive," the woman coos. It almost sounds sarcastic.

Stiles stands straight just behind the cell door, squinting his eyes to try and find her. The entire floor is trapped by wood, and the only source of light is the lantern that hangs just above his cell. It's so isolated and so dark that as far as he knows, no one sleeps down here. It's just the two of them.

Her boots tap against the floor as she begins to walk around. Mixed with the creaking of the boat and waves bashing against its side, the sound is eerie. "Tell me, Stiles," she begins slowly. "No mark on the door we found you on, not another ship in sight. You've clearly been taken care off - decent shape with only a slight stubble. Even have a decent haircut. Where do you come from?"

"I was born in Massachusettes, ma'am."

The footsteps stop. Stiles can feel her smiling. "Not what I meant."

Stiles doesn't respond.

The walking starts again. "So much mystery. So much uncertainty." It's then that she steps in front of the cell door and underneath the only lantern in the Hole. She moves so close to his face that Stiles can see her so clearly now, from the little slope of her nose to the flecks of freckles that kiss the top of her cheeks. She tilts her head as she says softly, "Who do you sail for, Stiles?"

"No one."

"Lies," she hisses almost immediately and a lump instantly forms in Stiles' throat. His heart begins to beat faster and he prays to God that she can't notice he's trying so hard to hide the panic. "You came from somewhere. You were with someone before. So who is it? Who do you sail for?"

But Stiles puts on the bravest face he can muster in a moment of frenzy and shakes his head. "I'm telling you, Captain. I'm on my own ship."

"Doesn't explain drifting in the middle of the Atlantic ocean," she presses.

Stiles straightens his shoulders and looks her right in her eyes. He's shit scared of her and she knows it, but she also knows that he won't show it. Or at least, will try to cover it up with pride and testosterone – as he figures any other man would. It's a game for the both of them, one that will just lead to them going in circles if they're not careful.

"Like I said, Captain," he says lowly. "I got lost."

She still doesn't look convinced. She eyes him intently, carefully, watching for a single falter in his expression. It never comes. Stiles notes the slight relaxation in her shoulders, but his heart drops into his stomach. This an opportunity and she knows it. It's an opportunity she cannot let slip through her fingers. She purses her lips and nods. "Your own lost ship, ey?" Stiles dreads what she's about to say next. "Abandon that ship. You sail with us now."

"You don't know anything about me and you want me on your crew?"

She grins, slyly, like she knows something he doesn't. "Piracy is a damn dangerous life, and loyalty in it is few and far between." She leans slightly up to be at his exact height. Their faces are now only inches apart. "Be honest," she whispers smoothly. "Would you betray me, Stiles?"

For a second, his breath hitches in his throat. "No, Ma'am."

Her voice is smooth but eerie and haunting. "You won't tell me where you came from. How do I know you mean that?"

"I suppose you don't," Stiles says. "Maybe you just have to find out."

She pauses, but the grin does not fall in the slightest. "Maybe."

One second she's right in front of him, and the next she's not. The Captain turns her back towards him and begins to walk to the door. "Cora will let you out in the morning and Zac will show you what you'll be doing," she shouts over her shoulder. Stiles hears the sound of the door opening. "You'll remain here until then. Got to keep you safe until the crew is briefed." And then the door is closed, and the only breathing in the room is his own.

*

True to the captain's word, Cora lets him out in the morning. She doesn't say anything or even motion for him to follow her. She just unlocks the door and walks away. Stiles is smart enough not to linger, though.

The sun is shining in all her glory when he walks out onto the deck. It's so bright and blinding that Stiles has to stop and shield his eyes before he slams into one of the crew members sweeping the deck. Cora doesn't pay him any attention. By the time he's accustomed to the light and apologized to the seething man, she's long gone. But Stiles isn't left to wonder on his own for long. Ten seconds later, an arm drapes around his shoulders and his met once again with the face of the curly haired man from before.

"Stiles," the boy greets with an enthusiastic smile. "Good to see ya survived the night. Welcome to the Talia."

Stiles opens his mouth to say something but is cut short when Zac steers him forward. He barely gives Stiles a second to breathe before he's jumping into the lowdown of how things on board go. "Your showing up is a surprise, to say the least. Your staying even more so. We never keep rescues around for long, let alone let 'em join the crew. Mal's spoken to everyone and made your position here clear, but do keep your head down, would ya? We've got our fair share of young pretty faces around here, but you're new. Inexperienced and foreign. I would use the word exotic would it not be disrespectful to the actual exotic. The men on this ship are loyal to Mal and her family, but we don't want to test that. Mal's given you a job that's away from everyone, so –"

"Shut and do my job and nothing more. Got it."

Zac raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "I take it this ain't your first time in this kind of situation."

Stiles shakes his head. Sadly, it's not his second or third, either.

"Allot of people around here seem pretty young, though," Stiles says to Zac as he makes a careful once over of the men working on the deck. He sees a crew of all ages and diversity, and quite a few look like they're in their twenties just like him. Surely he's not the only one in danger.

"Yeah," Zac winces. "That's another thing. Your showing up and staying is kind of a time-sensitive thing. Pete picked out everyone on this ship. They're all his crew, his family. And they're Mal's too, but –"

"But I'm her first chosen?"

Zac smiles widely, rotting teeth fully on display. "You catch on fast." He claps Stiles' back. "You'll be fine."

They're walking away from the deck now and into another room. Zac begins to lead Stiles down a flight of stairs. "Who's Pete?"

"Woah, kid. You're smart, but you're gonna have to be smarter," Zac says. "Don't ask too many questions, and know when you've earned the right to know information like that."

"Can I ask what it is I'll be doing?"

"That, my brown eyed friend, you can. You'll be helping out Fox in the kitchen."

Stiles gives Zac a worried look. "I don't really know how to cook."

"Don't need to. Just do whatever Fox tells you to do, and you should be fine."

That doesn't make Stiles feel any better but that doesn't stop him from following Zac down into the kitchen, either. Zac's right. Though the Captain's given her orders, it's better for everyone if the young man kept his head low and did as told. And if the opportunity for escape arose... Well, he'd just have cross that bridge when he came to it.

Zac leads him down a flight of stairs before they arrive in front of a closed door. There's a door knocker in the shape of a fox on the door, and Zac knocks it exactly three times before the door opens to reveal a brooding looking Korean woman. She allot shorter than the both of them, with black hair tied up with a bandana and a skull tattoo on her left cheek. She looks at Zac, looks at Stiles, and narrows her eyes.

Zac just smiles through it all. "Good news, Foxy. Captain's given ya an extra set of hands. Use 'em wisely."

He then leans foreword to whisper something into her ear. Stiles can't hear what they're saying, but Fox raises her eyebrows in surprise and then nods in understanding. They pull apart without another word exchanged. The short woman ushers Stiles in by whacking him with her tea towel. Zac shouts a "good luck, kid!" before the door closes and Fox shoves a handful of vegetables into Stiles' arms.

It's going to be a long day.

*

Stiles is not allowed to eat with the rest of the crew. He fears this just worsens the situation, increases the interest and further drives the rift when he should be building trust with them, but he doesn't argue. If he wants to survive, it's the Captain he must please, not the crew.

He sits by himself in the kitchen, sweaty and tired, but grateful to be eating something. He can hear them, the crew, laughing and talking floors above him. They're drunk on alcohol and the possibilities of the sea. If he closes his eyes, it's almost as if he's back on the Celestine. Surrounded by laughter and friends. And more. He wonders where the Celestine is now, and if that same laughter and friendship is what plagues the ship at this very moment, or if it's an atmosphere entirely different.

The door opens. Stiles eyes open as the memories fade into nothing.

He turns to see who it is and finds the Captain standing in the doorway. Stiles moves to stand up, but she shakes her head. "No need." He watches as she crosses over and walks towards him. The captain's hat and coat are now gone. She's in only the boots, trousers, and puffed-sleeved shirt. She sits down across from him, and Stiles notices a braid on the left side of her head. There are feathers weaved into it, too. She is not the usual face of a captain. She is definitely not the face of his last captain. Stiles isn't sure if he likes that or not.

"How'd your first day go?" She asks him. It sounds like such a genuine question that it takes Stiles a moment to answer.

"It went fine," Stiles says. He decides to save her from the details of Fox handing him a never-ending supply of vegetables but not actually telling him if she wanted them peeled, sliced, or diced.

"Fox says you kept up pretty well with her," the Captain says. "I'm impressed."

"I just did what I was told."

That seems to amuse her. She smiles as she leans back into her chair. "Pretty and humble. Now those are hard qualities to find in someone."

Stiles isn't sure how to respond to that. Apparently, that amuses her too.

Stiles shifts in his seat and clears his throat. "Captain –"

"Mal," she interjects. "Don't make the mistake of losing the 'Captain', but the name's Mal."

"Mal," Stiles corrects himself. "If I may, where are we sailing to?"

"Where stolen jewels are brought and the white man fucks to his heart content," Mal explains, almost a bit proudly. Her chin lifts up the slightest, and there's even a shift in her tone. "London."

Stiles is confused. "Why are we headed there?"

Mal smiles, shaking her head. "So many questions." Stiles figures it's best not to press further. The grin on her face falls suddenly, the mood serious and filled with an atmosphere of great importance. Whatever she's about to say is going to change the course of how things go on from here. "Someone took something of great value to me and I want it back. You're going to help me get it back."

"Do I get to know what it is?"

"Not yet."