Disclaimer: You lot know the drill by now. Not mine, never was, making no money…etc.

Posted: 07/06/16

A/N: You have all waited long enough for this chapter, so we'll just skip right to the gist of it shall we. Enjoy!

The dried tears were hot against her cheeks and she could feel the dull ache in her eyes from so much crying, she was sure if she were to look in a mirror they would be glassy, blood-shot, and swollen. Her entire body hurt all over with various agonies, the worst though was her ribs, every time she took in a breath she could feel the stabbing pains searing along her nerves. There was no doubt about it, she was worse for wear, and with disdain she thought how she truly needed to stop ending up injured – it was a habit she wasn't fond of since making the mistake of becoming enraptured by her curiosity of the bloody pirate ship that had shown up and consequently ruined everything about her otherwise peacefully dull existence in Neverland.

She kept trying to go to sleep and rest like Doc had strongly advised, but she found that every time she closed her eyes visions of Eustace's pungent form on top of her, his vile hands palming her flesh, his desiccating breath on her skin - it would all crop up to the forefront of her imagination and haunt her, subsequently making rest the last thing she wanted to do. So simply put she had eventually decided she wouldn't fall prey to any impending nightmares, at least not yet. She knew she couldn't very well stave off slumber forever, but she could damn well try to prolong the inevitable. It was with that last thought that she vehemently denied the sleeping drought Doc had kindly and dutifully prepared for her.

"Ariel, you need to stop being so stubborn about this…" John urged his voice inundated with concern, the bed dipping and groaning with his weight as he sat next to her, a small silver chalice with the foul smelling herbal remedy in hand. She shook her head furiously in the negative, regretting it immediately when it only aggravated her headache and sent stabbing pains along her stiff neck. Oh, they had tried other ways to sooth her to sleep, the calming smoky aroma of lavender and vanilla incense they had lit filled the room, the warm bed pan warmer under the soft pelts and furs next to her feet, the dim lights of the sporadic candles after all the oil lamps had been extinguished.

John and Doc had truly worked as hard as they could to reassure her and comfort her, make her feel safe and calm, until finally Doc had to succumb to his own fatigue and retired for the evening with mummers to fetch him if anything about her condition were to change.

John's only response at her continued tenacity was a heavy sigh of deep resignation tinged with the barest of annoyance. Eventually she would lull to sleep from pure exhaustion, whether she liked it or not- he mused. There was no way in hell's high sea's he was going to be the one to force the disgusting remedy down her throat – not after her traumatic experience. It was the last thing she needed, and if she wanted to be stubborn and fight sleep and rest then so be it, it was her choice after all.

After so much choice had been taken from her, he couldn't bear to steal more.

It was the pity and sorrow in his eyes, mostly the pity that stirred her the most, and she looked away to stare at the opposite wall, tempted to cross her arms protectively but after having already tried that gesture once thought better of it to avoid the resulting sting of agony. It was hard to look at him and imagine what he must be thinking about her, about her situation – so it was easier all together to not look at him at all. Even if she couldn't escape him completely in her current surroundings, it still helped to gaze at anything but his eyes that told her everything he didn't say.

His accommodations were nice, and she remembered it faintly from the first day she was captured, dragged into his adjoining washroom, and dropped unceremoniously into his porcelain tub. Right before she was hauled off to the brig for her perceived disrespect. She still held steadfast to the notion the Captain deserved everything he got that day from her. Anyway, John's room, it was nice. No matter how nice, she still wished she was off the ship, even if she turned homeless and went hungry at least she wouldn't be a prisoner. Freedom was everything once it was taken away.

John's quarter master's chambers was marginally smaller than Killian's own, but that was to be expected seeing as he was the Captain of the ship. However, it wasn't anything to balk at either, being second in command, it was sizeable enough, and he also had a washroom of his own, equipped with a bathtub of his own (the only two on the ship that weren't made of tin water basins) as well.

There was a clear contrast between the Captain's abode and the Quarter Master's. Where the Captain's space was adorned in rich hues of red, gold, and black that gave off a rough and darker vibe, John's was decorated in soft blues, silver, and whites that held a very soft and welcoming feel. The difference in tastes of décor was also a strong correlation to their different personalities in her opinion. Where the Captain was smug, John was reserved, where arrogant the other quietly confident, where lascivious the other respectful and most importantly, where one seemed ruthless the other was kind.

It even appeared that John was more modest, with only the essential furnishings and functional items, nothing extravagant like large oil paintings or numerous embellished baubles littered the room unlike the Captain's many shelves full of them - all most likely trophies from various pillages or adventures. Instead the walls were covered in nothing but maps, nautical and star charts; certainly more practical, not that the Captain's chamber didn't have any up on the walls, just not nearly as many as John and unlike the Captain it was the only thing John seemed to have up on the walls.

She was propped up by a ridiculous amount of pillows, not completely sitting up straight, but at enough of an angle that she might have well as been. It was one of Doc's many orders and requests regarding her condition, that because of her ribs she shouldn't lie completely flat on her back. Her eyes narrowed at the memory, calling her injuries 'her condition` like it was some sort of illness or injury she had accidentally sustained. Like the recent memories didn't leave her skin crawling with her disgust.

No one had the nerve to say what had really happened to her out loud when her ears were in reach – but she had no doubt they were talking. As bitter as she was about that fact, as if ignoring the truth would brush the circumstance under the rug, she was also grateful – because truth was she wasn't even sure she could face the glaring extent of it yet herself. As if not acknowledging it would change it somehow, even if everyone recognized how futile these whims were. About as futile as her desire to avoid the sand man's calling, no matter how gallant her attempt it would eventually have to be dealt with.

The soft steps of John's boots on the floor, along with the sudden loss of his weight on the bed next to her, had her lulling her head to the side to face him, watching his movements as he set the chalice aside on his own smaller desk that was littered with aged parchments. He ran one hand through his golden locks and let out a frustrated sigh that had a smile almost hinting at her lips. When he turned to look at her, she could see the forlorn sadness reflected in his eyes back at her. She watched him open his mouth a few times as if to say something, only to close it in second thought. A fish out of water.

Instead he simply walked back over to the bed and checked the silver pitcher sitting on the wooden night stand to make sure it was full of water, tipping it to fill an empty goblet and handing it out to her in a questioning gesture, at the soft shake of her head he sighed again and set the goblet down next to the pitcher, in easy reach of her if she changed her mind and were to became thirsty.

He wouldn't be lying if he said he had no clue as to what to do in this type of situation.

When he had offered up his own room, he had been sure it was the right thing to do – still was sure. As it were Ariel hadn't looked in any state to be up to a trek down to Doc's make-shift infirmary. Not only that but neither Killian nor him felt inclined to leave her down there after the incident with Eustace with only an aged healer as a guard – nor did they trust any of the other shipmates at the moment to stand watch over her either, in case the idea of insubordination were to spread like a disease, especially in her fragile disposition. It also wouldn't do her any good to have her stuck below top deck where fresh air couldn't reach. It was safest and put all three men at ease to have her in close proximity, each man only truly trusting the other. For obvious reasons it was silently agreed that Ariel wouldn't be recuperating in the Captain's quarters, at the very least until the mess had been properly sorted.

Now John wasn't sure what to do, wasn't even sure it was possible to console her. How can one make something so horrific better?

Looking at her bruised face, adorned with a small gash on the temple, pulled at his heart strings – she didn't deserve this. It was true there were men on this ship that were less than savory characters, and generally a blind eye was turned to whatever was done on shore as long as it didn't trail back to the ship the next day, but to disobey the Captains direct order not only while still at sea but whilst in his personal chamber. It was an unforgivable offence.

With a tentative hand John reached out nimble fingers to gently smooth her unnaturally red locks, the gesture meant to be comforting and consoling.

"Don't touch me!" Ariel spat, shying away from his touch as soon as he had made contact, causing him to snap his hand back and grimace. Her eyes looked wild, as if a crazed beast stirred just under the surface of their blue depths.

"Ariel, accept my apology, I didn't mean…." John's words trailed off into yet another heavy sigh, unsure of how to express what he wanted to, and usually he was the one that was good with words.

For John, the sobs were absolutely gut wrenching and filled every space of the room, resonating off the darkest shadows and echoing deep in his own heart. She was in pain, the physical was more than obvious, but it was emotional as well and perhaps it was that fact that had him feeling so strongly for her situation. It was one thing to be bruised and battered, another to feel broken. At one point during the battles of war he too had felt both – but it was completely different, never had the attacks on his person been so intimate.

She was trembling like a leaf being blown about in the wind, clutching at his tunic with a vice grip so strong her knuckles were turning white and even through the fabric of his shirt her nails were leaving crescent shaped marks in her palm. The bodice of her green dress was stained red, and dried blood was cracking and peeling off her face, neck, and bosom – at least her nose didn't appear broken, small favors of fate.

Every intake of shaky breath made the sobs worse, her face wincing with her agony as the tears mingled with the dried blood on her skin. When John had tried to walk her over and urge her to sit on the bed, she started to struggled and screamed at him, and so they stayed in the center of the room standing instead, her face buried into his chest and his hand smoothing the hair on the back of her head and whispering assurances. You're safe now…I've got you…it's ok – things of that sort.

As soon as Doc had rushed into John's chambers and saw the grizzly scene his face had gone ghostly white. It was only a momentary pause before he set his lips into a determined line and pushed his personal feelings aside.

It had taken intense and gentle urging to pry Ariel out of John's arms, grasping him like he was a lifeline. It was a good thing Doc and John were patient men, and it was a lucky thing they were both as understanding as they were.

"I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere." John placated, as he gently held her wrists and took a deliberately slow step back. Her hands and arms were shaking something awful and her eyes were desperately begging him not to go, and if there were any other way he wouldn't have – but her wounds, they had to be tended to. "I promise."

With a barely imperceptible nod, John finally released the hold on her wrists and stepped further back, watching as Doc stepped between them and assessed his patient in her dire state. He had to think of her as his patient, if he thought of her as the woman he had come to consider so deeply he wouldn't be able to care for her – he had to push those feelings out and silence them in order to do his job.

"Ariel," Doc started gently, "You know who I am?" he asked, looking wearily at the gash in her head that was still oozing a sluggish trail of blood down the side of her face. He watched as she bit her bottom lip and worried it, a sigh of relief leaving his own lips when she finally nodding her head in affirmative "Good. That's good." He mused under his breath; it was a welcome sign he could worry a little less about serious head trauma. Taking in one last deep breath he let his eyes trail over her already bruising form, his aged lips pressed into a thin line of concentration and concealed disgust at the man that did this to her. "John, bring over that chair." Doc ordered, waving a hand in the direction of the cushioned rest that sat behind the modest desk. "I'll also need a bucket of clean water and clean rags from my store room."

"I'll only be gone a moment" John nodded, saying the words mostly for Ariel's benefit ,as he set the heavy chair down beside the older man and left the room to fetch a shipmate to do as was asked, not adverse to taking orders from the more knowledgeable healer. John lifted the heavy wooden bar that purposed itself as a lock and left his room, smiling in gratitude as Doc followed him out and promised to reset the lock until his swift return.

Alone in the room for the time being, Doc focused his attentions on his patient – still standing in the middle of the room and looking out the large recessed windows of the cabin. She blinked a few times when he moved back in front of her vision blocking her view. "Will you sit for me, please?" he asked gently, taking her hands in his and guiding her over the few paces to the seat he had had John place next to them. She nodded silently and hissed as she lowered herself down onto the cushioned chair, her body ached all over and felt like it was on fire. These wounds would have been less troublesome in her natural form, but as it were her human frame was fragile and feeble at best. Never before when she first walked the earth, had she been in such a pained position – except for possibly childbirth but this time there was no joy to be had at the end of her agony.

Doc needed to clean the blood away from most of the wounds to see the extent of the damage done; it was always hard to ascertain when the wounds were caked in dry blood and debris. With sad eyes he noted that the stitches following the cut along her collar bone were probably ready for removal soon, but that would have to wait. He let out a deep sigh, and turned to his large black bag that he had set on a side table by the door on his way in, and started setting out small jars and containers. Some of which Ariel noted with dry amusement she could actually recognize now.

"It didn't work." Ariel finally said hoarsely, breaking her silence. He turned to look at her and noticed her hand trail up to the invisible spot where the talisman he had earlier provided her would rest, the one meant for protection. His smile became grave and he turned back to his task of emptying the bag for easier access to the remedy's as he set his mind about what to say.

When he turned and looked at her again, her hands were resting palm up in her lap, her head lowered. It was heartbreaking to see someone that before had been so full of willful defiance and power, deflated and forlorn. "I would argue that it did, though I am sure that is little condolence for you." Doc finally replied, perhaps she didn't realize it, but hopefully one day she would, she was sitting there in front of him injured, but alive. Given just a glance of her injures and Doc was sure that the perpetrator could have easily done much more – would have easily killed her no doubt.

The hallow laugh she let out chilled him, her glassy eyes raising their gaze to meet his. "I supposed I should be grateful that I am even sitting here now?" she spat, not even feeling an ounce of remorse for her harsh words when she swore she saw a flinch take hold of the gentle man.

"Most in your position would be grateful for such small allowances." Doc reminded, feeling the anger of a father burn beneath his breast at the remembrance of his own wife and daughter that hadn't been nearly so lucky. As quickly as it had come he put the flame out, she didn't need his berates and she wasn't his ward. He supposed he could allow her her anger at her circumstance and imprisonment for surly a bull could only be pushed so far before charging horns down. "But most also haven't put up with as much as you have already, my dear." He supplicated consolingly and in brief apology, relaxing his expression to one of sympathy.

A swift knock on the door broke whatever conversation would have come next as Doc lifted the bar lock and opened the door wide, allowing John to enter with the bucket of water as requested and a bundle of rags underneath one arm. It was time to get to work as Doc took one of the rags and dipped it into the cool water and began to clear away the blood from her face and neck, a slow and tedious process that oft times brought a small hiss of pain from the beaten red headed woman sitting before him.

"Do they have to be so tight?" Ariel complained, a hand resting above the pelt just below her breast, where underneath the bandages were pulled tightly against her ribs. Even though each restricted breath brought her aches and pains, it was quite possibly more annoying to feel as if she couldn't get a full lungs worth of air. She didn't miss the slight flush that arose on John's cheeks when she brought it up, the memory of him helping Doc pull the gauze around the injury clear in both their minds. It had taken plenty of urging from both men to allow them to remove the bloodied dress she wore in order to attend the injuries covering her entire body that were concealed by the slip of the gown.

The explanations had been truthful and innocent enough, there were no other women aboard the ship to assist, and Doc couldn't both wrap and ensure it was properly set alone. The men had worked with calculating moves and only necessary clinical touches, but still the thought of them gazing on her more intimate curves was positively scandalous. She supposed she should be thankful it had been John and not the Captain assisting, for she was most assured his lecherous and leering gaze would have only considerably worsened matters.

It had felt like the night she consummated her marriage with Eric, having the priests witness their first union from behind a screen that did little to quell her mind of the knowledge that they were there. Having them inspect the sheets afterward, looking for the blood insignia of her innocence had been mortifying at best and at the time she had imagined she could never feel more humiliated. However, having men tend to her injuries in the nude, one she possibly fancied and the other she cared for almost to the extent of family - that had been far more humiliating than any witnessed wedding night she could have possibly had.

At least when she was Queen she had had many ladies in waiting, tending to her routine and dressings. How pampered a life she had lead, even as a Mermaid Princess she had been well accounted for by servants.

To have fallen so far from grace that a Pirates hands needed to assist where a very Pirates hands had violated.

"I know you already know the answer to that," John responded from his perch on the window sill seat, closing the book of short stories in his lap that he had been reading to Ariel, in the hopes that she would finally end her stubborn strike against sleep and succumb to the rest her body so desperately required.

"Yes, but it's quite uncomfortable." Insistent on her complaint, she fidgeted under the furs and pelts against the pillows, trying to get comfortable again. The more she moved the more uncomfortable and compressing the bandages around her ribs felt. Some could argue it was worse than a corset pulled too tight and she of all would know.

"I assure you, un-bandaged fractured ribs are far more uncomfortable than the compression you are wearing, despite your grievances otherwise." He informed her with a small chuckle, setting the book aside and wiping his palms on the coarse cotton of his breeches before running one through the locks of his hair in a habit that was becoming quite endearing and predictable of him.

"Speaking from experience are we?" she asked, the curious glint filling her blossoming playful tone, struggling to sit up further against the pillows and letting out a groan of pain for her efforts.

"Perhaps, I have been in my fair share of scuffles and suffered my lot in injures for my efforts." He flashed her quite the charming smile, standing when she let out another pained grunt and making his way to her side. "Unlike you, I knew well enough when to admit defeat." He chastised ruefully, reaching a hand out to help her before pausing its movements "Can I?" he asked, sounding more tentative remembering her earlier harsh reaction a few hours ago for having smoothed her hair. At the nod of her head he gripped her hip with one hand and pushed up through the covers and pulled gently on her shoulder, easing her into a better position.

"Thank you." she admitted through a sigh, allowing him to adjust the mountain of pillows behind her back and head until she rested more comfortably.

"Think not of it, as long as you don't go telling all the men about the mid wife you seemed to have turned me into." he told her easily, trying to ease her discomforts with his teasing tone, reaching over and handing her the goblet of water she was struggling to reach. He was just grateful that at least now she seemed to be in a more pleasant, if not talkative, mood. The book of stories had been a trick his mother would use on him and his sister when they were in sour bouts and he had hoped it would ease her soul, same as it used to do for his.

"Would rumors of kindness sully your steadfast pirate's reputation?" she asked after taking a few sips to sooth her dry throat, having meant it to be an innocent barb but her tone turned solemn against her will. John considered her words for a few moments, replacing the goblet when she handed it back to him "I'm sorry -" however he cut her off before she could finish.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Ariel." John insisted, his voice serious with his meaning.

"But my words, they were cruel." She argued weakly.

"The actions of the man under my watch were cruel, and I promise he was dealt with accordingly and an example will be set." John explained, giving her reason towards her disdain. "Not all of us are as natured as he." He added sadly.

"One would argue he was under the Captain's watch, perhaps even his command." Ariel spat flippantly with little regard to thinking before speaking as she reacted to her knee jerk emotions, a sneer on her lips as differing feelings flashed across her green eyes.

"Being second in command puts them under my watch just as equally," John reminded, taking a deep breath. Women were as moody as the sea's sometimes, one moment calm and the other raging a storm of unquestionable proportions the moment you turn away. "And you can't possibly think he was acting on the command of the Captain, truly?" he asked, feeling both ire at the possibility that she really did think his best friend capable of such callousness, but also sympathy for her troubles and predicament.

Honestly she had every right to hate Killian.

"Why shouldn't I?" she countered, "It could be counted as an elaborate stage of events for a clever ruse – he certainly threatened me enough with it." Ariel spat, angry and frustrated with herself that she had even brought the Captain up in the first place, when conversation had just seemed to be easier to handle. John let out another heavy sigh – if she blamed the Captain she must equally blame him as well. John ran a hand over his face as he tried to sort out the mental tangle that was the woman in his bed – which on any other occasion would have been a pleasant sight.

"You should rest, it's been a long enough day as it is, we can discuss this later when your mind is of more clarity." John urged, settling on that response being the best course of action for now. There was no foreseeable way to reasonably convince the red head that the deck hand was working off his own ambitions and from no order of his own or that of the Captains. If she couldn't see it for herself, there was very little convincing on his part that would change it otherwise.

"One moment you are beseechingly kind, the next unfathomably patronizing, hard to know the real you through the thick of it." she snapped again, glaring at him now, her lips pressed into a thin line. She knew she was being incredibly unreasonable but it didn't stop the words from spilling past her lips.

"Apologizing for cruel words one moment to wield a fatal blade the next, the same could be said of you milady." He responded smoothly before turning away from her, feeling the wound of her words more than he knew he should - more than he had any right to. He let out another heavy sigh. He didn't want to argue with her, she had been through enough for the day. He had no doubt she wasn't herself, and the way her eyes were bloodshot it was clear enough that perhaps her evident exhaustion was fanning the flame of her ire. He also knew well enough that it was more her reaction, conscious or not, to the recent trauma talking. It was simply easier to remove the catalyst she seemed to be feeding from; maybe with no one around perhaps she would finally fall asleep. "If you need anything I'll be right outside the door keeping watch." He told her so softly she almost didn't hear.

He waited for a few long moments of silence for any acknowledgement she had heard and understood him until it turned awkward and permeated around them. With a final heavy sigh of resignation, thinking she was intent on ignoring him now, he turned to leave.

It was the sound of a gasped breath biting back an exclamation of agony and the feel of a small hand encircling his wrist desperately that stopped him.

"Please don't go." Ariel pleaded dejectedly, their brief argument was silly and stupid – she wanted desperately for him to go back to reading stories and putting this nonsense that she had started behind them. So far John had given her no reason not to trust in him, she still strongly believed he would hold up his promise and help her escape the binds of her imprisonment. Though she wasn't ready to admit she was wrong about her perceptions of the Captain, it really was a bit of a reach even on her part to think he had commanded that putrid man to rape her, "I guess he is far too arrogant to allow another man to fornicate in his bed." She conceded - it was as close to another apology he was going to get for the night.

John couldn't help the sudden barked laugh at her words, "Never have there been truer words spoken." He agreed, still chuckling. There was no doubt in his mind that this woman could have a sharp wit when she wanted one, intended or not.

"So you'll stay then?" she asked, worry now reflected back at him in her red rimmed eyes, drowning out all the other confusing emotions of moments ago. The thought of him leaving her in the room alone was unpleasant. She felt safer with him around her, protecting her. Being alone in a room had been the cause of her current predicament.

"Well, I suppose so, besides taking post outside the door would be most uncomfortable…" he trailed off teasingly, finding it easy to put the discord behind him at her imploring look, hinged with just a bit of fear at the idea being left alone. It really made his heart feel for her, it reminded him no matter how sharp her tongue and temper; she was still a woman that had not even a day ago, gone through a horrific ordeal and her mind hadn't the opportunity to properly process, of course she would lash out.

"Is that the only reason, you're sure my words haven't scared you away?" she asked, trying to lighten her tone and gain back the easy rapport, the hint of a tentative smile tugging at her lips, her hand still holding onto his wrist but relaxing into a delicate touch.

"It would take far more than your words to give me reason to tuck tail and truly run," John advised, a small smile returning to his lips as well. She was as confusing as any lass he had stumbled across, prior mermaid or no it truly did seem as if all women were the same – fleeting from one emotion to the next, and just as fickle. "I must admit though, I am surprised, I had assumed you would have begrudged the company of men?" he ventured, curious as to why she would even want him in the room at all. He had been sure she had considered him little more than a nuisance.

"I'm only tolerating the company of one man at the moment." She pointed out.

"Tolerating?" he chuckled, "My lady, you have a powerful way with flattery." He teased with a glittering of amusement in his eyes to accompany his words as he tried to lighten her soul since she seemed more receptive. Ariel let out a small chuckle only to cringe at the pain the action caused, her grip on his wrist tightening momentarily while she quickly adorned a rueful smile.

"If I didn't know any better, I would accuse you of charming a damsel in distress." She said with a playful tone, taking care not to laugh or chuckle again.

"Are you saying I haven't already done so?" he asked, feeling curious with the new path this conversation was seemingly taking. He secretly hoped for a `yes` though he strongly doubted it – despite knowing he had no right to hope for anything regarding the red headed beauty before him. If the Captain weren't standing in their way on orders John wouldn't dare disobey, there was the fact clear as day that she wasn't going to be with them for long, he had a duty to help see to that.

"I think," Ariel started slowly, pondering her words carefully "that this is a conversation to be had some other time, when my head is – how did you put it? Of more clarity." she responded, her eyes beholding an emotion he couldn't quite place.

"Aren't you cheeky." he added with a light laugh of his own. "Well, be that as it may, can we agree that you've been stubborn enough - I think it is well past your bedtime?"

"Sit with me until I fall asleep?" she asked, finally relenting despite her inhibitions as the exhaustion started to take a tighter hold, moving her hand from his wrist to his hand, her nimble fingers encircling his larger palm, a yawn finally breaking through. As much as she hated the idea, he was right, they all were – she needed to sleep and she was sure the hour was well into the early mornings. She tugged lightly on his hand to annunciate her point, smiling when he obliged.

"I think I can do that," he said softly, earning him a sweet smile when he obliged as she begrudgingly closed her eyes.

He couldn't help but smile that she was a fighter to the bitter end even in defeat.

The feel and sound of the front laces of his britches opening made her clench her eyes shut tightly, trying her hardest to be anywhere in her mind than in this moment, her body becoming lax against the sheets with the sickening realization of what was about to happen to her.

Eustace grinned down triumphantly at her prone form, finding immense pleasure in the way the fight fled from her soul, he loved it most when they finally gave up their struggles and submitted to him. There was nothing more pleasurable then watching as the fire inside burnt out. He lives off the high of domination and power; maybe if he didn't lose himself to the ecstasy of her supple defeated body he wouldn't choke her to death in the midst of his passions. Maybe.

All she could do was wish he would just get on with it then, so that this nightmare would be over as quickly as possible.

Right before she was covered in blood.

It was spilling out all over her, tarnishing the delicate material of her dress irreparably as it soaked through and coated her skin. The blood splattering chaotically onto her face and shoulders, mixing with her own oozing wounds. The dark crimson flowed down over Eustace's chest and sputtered from his mouth, his eyes were filled with surprise and horror, mirroring the same emotions reflected in her own wide eyes.

The liquid was thick and still warm to the touch, already matting to her hair and dripping over her flesh…it was abhorrent and nauseating.

It was strange at first, as her fingers brushed over some of the slick coagulating essence; she kept expecting the bloodlust of her prior life to take hold, to feel the elongation of her serrated teeth breaking through her gum line ready to feast on the bloody flesh presented, for her eyes to dilate with the hunger – but it never came.

Her heart thundered wildly in her chest, feeling like at any moment it was going to break past her fractured ribs and burst out from beneath her breast. The pungent taste of ripe leather was overpowering as it mixed with the distinct flavor of iron, causing her stomach to churn violently with her compounding repulsions.

It all had happened so fast that at first she hadn't even comprehended it; there she was mentally begging her impending violation to be over and the next she was covered in a waterfall of blood that hadn't even cooled. His weight on top of her had been suffocating both physically and mentally, and she could still feel the movements of his pudgy hand next to her thigh working with rough haste to undo the laces of his breeches as if it were still occurring, even though she knew it wasn't. Lucid rationality was escaping her for the moment.

There was the briefest puff of air that smoothed over her exposed skin as the weight of the perpetrators body was suddenly hauled up from her form, his shrilly pig like squeal cut off by sickening gurgling sounds as blood rushed up his throat and started to cascade down over her. Ariel gazed up in shock, her breath catching at the way his head was leaned back unnaturally far, showing off all the red and pink torn flesh of the jagged slash across his throat - his blood gushing forth freely from the wound.

In reality it was all done in a matter of seconds but it had felt like a lifetime, everything seemingly moving forward in agonizingly slow motion.

From behind the form of Eustace bleeding out atop her, she could see none other than the Captain.

The Captain's expression was terrifyingly dark, his eyes filled with a rage and hate so profound and intense she was sure it tainted his soul and it had her fearing for her own life as her breath caught in her throat. His teeth were bared through a snarl accompanying his anger, and his good hand was fisted tightly into the locks of his disobedient subordinate keeping Eustace's heavy body upright on the bed where his pants sagged low on his blubbery hips, his cubby legs still straddling one of her thighs.

It was the waning sunlight glinting off the Captain's blood stained hook that seemed to break the grotesque mesmerizing spell she was trapped in. The way the blood slicked down the smooth metal and dripped methodically to the linens below.

The breath that had been caught in her throat finally released and she started to hyperventilate through her makeshift gag, her eyes stinging with tears and her vision blurred as they spilled over the edge of her lashes, streaking down the splattered blood on her face. Ariel scrambled backwards up the bed frantically, clawing with her hands and pushing with her feet in sloppy desperate movements until her back was pressed firmly against the oak headboard and even then pushing with all her might as if she could still move further back.

Ariel tugged at the hem of her spoiled dress, pulling it down over her legs to cover herself as she brought her knees up to her chest in an attempt to get as far away from the body that was now shuddering and convulsing before her, still held up by the hair on his nearly severed head. With weak trembling hands she tried in vain to undo the belt that gagged her – it felt like she was suffocating around it as sobs started to resonate through her entire being. The reality she couldn't escape catching up to her in full force.

It was a true nightmare – the kind you couldn't wake up from.

Inadvertently catching the gaze of the dying man sent chills shooting down her spine; they were filled with such a torturous mixture of pain, hatred, and horror… that she was sure he had cursed her to hell with just that look. The light was fading quickly from his gaze, the orbs turning to a lifeless glassy sheen and it was morbidly captivating.

Like she couldn't look away even if she wanted to.

She desperately wanted to.

She had seen countless men drown to death, watched the same light fade away – in that instance it had looked almost peaceful, but instead this time it just looked…ghastly.

"Ariel!" John exclaimed, his own disbelief bleeding through his words as he caught sight of her. He had ran the short distance from the top of the helm to Killian's room at the sound of a cut off scream, his chest heaving lightly with his breaths as he barged through the flung open door with his sword already drawn, his boots skidding to a stop along the polished wood flooring at the sight before him.

The sound of her name drew her attention away from the grotesque scene playing out just inches in front of her, her wild eyes catching his unsettled gaze as he made quick inventory of the situation. He was no stranger to the morbidity and violence of his unlawful profession, but this particular situation seemed to inexplicably strike a more personal cord deep within him.

The sight of John spurred her like a cattle prod, and a strangled desperate noise garbled about in her throat as she pushed forward off the bed with unstable yet determined movements. She forced her way towards him as swiftly as her body would allow and witnessing her stumbling towards him John sheathed his broad sword back into his scabbard.

Not a moment later her arms were clutching around his neck like a starved man to bread - or more adequately a victim to her savior. Her arms were quivering as her body trembled but her grip was iron clad and fierce with almost inhuman strength – no doubt propelled by adrenaline- so fierce of its own accord it belied her pain and relief. It was hard to feel anything but empathy for the slip of a woman willing his embrace and seeking comfort, but still the pressure of her form against his chest no matter how injured or blood covered, managed to stir him in a way he would rather not think on at the moment.

With deft hands he gently unbuckled and unknotted the leather of the worn belt that served as a makeshift gag, tossing the vile strip to the ground with distaste – and finally her sobs were released. It was a gut wrenching sound that could move even the hardest of hardened souls. Her cries were saying everything she couldn't will past her lips. John encircled her frame with his strong arms gently as he could and supported her weight against him easily enough when he felt her knees give out.

He didn't question how she could tolerate a man's touch. He didn't need to be told what had happened, he could grasp it easily enough by the dire state of the room, the smashed wood, the crumpled linens and pelts, the blood covering everything including the woman in his arms….when he made eye contact with his best friend and Captain he knew the suspicions were correct.

Eustace had tried to rape Ariel.

John prayed to any God that would listen that he was right and `tried` was as far as it had gotten.

Gently and calmly he smoothed his hand along the back of her tangled red locks, some of the natural curl threading through his fingers. Her head was resting in the crook of his neck, and her body was still shaking with the force of her sobs as the tears dampened his tunic. There wasn't a single word he could say that would calm or sooth her soul, and he wasn't about to try. If what she needed was the physical comfort, the tangible proof that she was safe, then he would dutifully provide it. Sometimes words were a hindrance.

So while he held her, he let his gaze focus on the scene her back was turned on.

Killian's breathing was labored and his nostrils flared, his muscles were trembling as evidence of his blind rage, and his eyes were dark and dilated - filled with a murderous gleam so intense it was only triumphed by the day he had lost Milah. John watched as his best mate tossed the lifeless body off the bed to the floor with unnecessary force that tore the sliced throat open wider exposing a flash of white bone. The loud thump of the lifeless fat body hitting the ground resonated around the room and caused Ariel to flinch in his arms.

The only sounds after that were the choked up weeping of Ariel and the labored breaths of Killian – as whatever blood left in the body pooled out onto the wooden floor.

He watched the inner struggle take hold as Killian fought to regain his composure, the way he kept his eyes closed while he leaned his head back, the clench in his jaw as he ground his teeth, his good fist balled up so tight his knuckles had turned white with the pressure, the forced rhythmic breathing of in through the nose and out through the mouth. The breathing technique something Milah had taught him years ago to help reign in his wild temper.

When Killian opened his eyes and met his gaze, he couldn't help the grim line his own lips pressed into.

This was about more than just an injured woman – prior mermaid or no, she was now just a girl. A very human girl.

No, this was about the possibility of rebellion. About defied direct orders. About the possibility of mutiny no matter how minute – and thus a threat to Killian's revenge.

There were a plethora of questions to be answered…was Eustace working alone of his own foolish accord? or was this a calculated assault? Was this an isolated incident? or was this a sign of trouble brewing among the crew? They were all serious questions that needed to be answered – but one thing at a time and first things first.

"Get her out of here." Killian ordered as gently as he could manage, though his tone was still grave and tight. "Stay with her, trust none." He added, turning back to the macabre scene of bloodied linins. He would have to deal with this, while he trusted his pet to the only man he could be sure of at the moment – John Smith.

John nodded his head in understanding "I will take her to my quarters." He advised, not at all missing the way Ariel's body tensed when Killian finally spoke, but he didn't make any reaction to it. With purposeful and reassuring movements he pried Ariel from his torso into a position easier for them both to maneuver. He slung one of her slender arms around his broad shoulders, taking note of the pained look crossing over her face with the action, and hooked his other arm around her waist as he guided her slowly out of the room.

He cringed at the way her pained sobs had turned into agonized sniffles as they walked. He helped her out of the room and into the hallway; it was a short distance down the hall to his personal quarters - the only place he knew for certain she would be safest. With each sharp intake of breath on queue with every slow step, he found himself ever grateful that his chambers were so close to Killian`s if only for her sake.

"Fetch the Doctor!" he ordered to no one in particular of the many men standing in the hall, all drawn earlier to the commotion but having stayed back without an order from their Captain or First Mate. He used his body to shield Ariel's as best he could from the prying curious eyes as they walked. Already he could hear the hushed whispers starting to spread amongst the crew. "Kamal," he started, catching a glimpse of the darker skinned man, one of his more trusted, standing tall above the rest in the crowd "Grab some men and help the Captain." He ordered, not bothering to watch as the pirate moved to follow his bidding.

He couldn't help his own sigh of relief when they had finally entered his room, the wooden door shutting heavily behind them, as he bolted the lock bar into place.

Better safe than sorry.

Ariel thrashed under the linens and pelts, her body was laden with sweat. The perspiration on her brow as beading up and left her skin damp and clammy to the touch. Her breathing was labored and short, as if she were hyperventilating. Her whimpers were caught in her throat and her head tossed from side to side as her limbs twitched violently. Her eyes were moving furiously behind her closed lids, her nightmare ensnaring her completely.

She was confined, tangled in the sheets, unable to get away – they wouldn't let her go.

He wouldn't let her go.

When she bolted upright the pain in her ribs was the furthest from her mind, her adrenaline drowning it out as her eyes darted wildly around the room for any sign of the danger she had dreamt. Her breathing was erratic, and her fists clutched the warm pelt to her chest.

A flash of lighting from outside briefly lit up the room, casting shadows all around her.

There was no sign of John – no sign of anyone.

Her heartbeat thundered violently in her chest, like the a thousand hooves on a track, at the realization she was alone. It made her uneasy and anxious. She didn't want to be alone, the last time she had been alone in the Captain's quarters it hadn't ended well for her.

The sound of hinges creaking caused her to startle, and her gaze shot over to the washroom.

The relief that flooded through her at the sight of that blond hair in another flash of lightning was indescribable.

"John!" she breathed, her voice a mixture of desperate relief and elation. She started to kick furiously at the blankets and pelts, trying to free herself from the tangled mess it had become in her fitful nightmares, trying to get to him.

He was at her side before she could get free, his arms pulling her to his chest as he sat down next to her.

"Shhhh, it's alright," he soothed in hushed easy tones "I am right here. I am not going anywhere, I promise." He swore, one hand smoothing gently up and down her back to console her.

"I – he – we….." She couldn't find the words to voice her fears or the reality of her vivid memory haunting her nightmares.

"It was just a dream, it wasn't real." He tried to console her.

"But it was!" she protested, tears streaming down her face. "It happened!" she cried harder, clutching him to her.

The memories of her nightmares were terrifying. No one had come in time to stop him and save her.

"He can't hurt you anymore; he won't touch you ever again." John assured, his heart going out to the girl in his arms. She had been through so much since she was captured and brought aboard– too much. It firmed his resolve to help her escape.

He held her tight, comforting her, until her weeping had subsided and her tears had dried. It would take her time to heal and he understood that, her nightmares though, that was something that would never go away, not entirely. Horrible events of past never seemed to truly fade or leave one be. He had a few moments and secrets of his own that still haunted him in the dead of night.

John had hoped they wouldn't torment her so soon; she had rested so peacefully the entire day after she had finally fallen asleep. Doc had watched over her dutifully, with the order to fetch him should she wake, while he attended his normal duties and a few other special errands aboard ship with the Captain. Killian had also checked in on her a few times as well, for only a moment or two at a time, but no one had the heart to wake her – so long as she was breathing they all agreed she could use the rest.

The storm had rolled in that evening, the clouds darkening overhead and the rain drizzling down upon them. It had come in fast and hard. When the waves had picked up with enough force to list and heel the ship and knock The Jolly Roger off course a few times it was decided best to drop anchor and wait for the brunt to pass. It would slow their journey by a few days or weeks depending on how long they had to wait out the storm, which put Killian in an even fouler mood than he had already been in, but it was a necessary delay. Only a fool would continue to try and sail in weather so ferocious and vindictive.

By the time the sun set the darkly omniscient clouds had rolled in and soon after the resounding thunder and lightning had turned the great expanse of ocean into an eerie aquatic battle scene – each knock of rumbling thunder reminiscent of firing cannons, the bolts touching down on the scene the flame after fire, the whistling winds as it ripped through the sails the screams of dying men. A particularly violent wave lurched the boat nearly sending him to the floor as water splashed high enough to knock at the bay windows.

The ocean was never so tumultuous below the water's surface even during the most trying of King Trident's storms and had Ariel been of solid mind she would have found the juxtaposition fascinating. She had never weathered such a storm above the surface – she would have found it glorious.

As it were, her mind was fearful and each strike of lighting sent shadows skittering throughout the room and fueled a keen paranoia, each rumble of thunder resounded through her very bones and sent a cold shiver down her spine. It was as if Mother Nature was mimicking her inner turmoil, giving physical rise to the warring emotions and feelings deep within her.

When Johns grip lessened a fraction with the intent of securing some valuable from the oceans unforgiving onslaught she clutched him to her harder, silently begging him not to leave her again, praying to any and every God, Diety, Creator, and Protector she knew that he would stay and protect her from the shadows in the room but also in her mind.

Her muffled crying wrenched his heart and tore him to pieces, he wanted nothing more than to fix the seemly frail woman in his arms – such contrast from the ferocious and fearless mermaid originally brought aboard. It was becoming hard for him to reconcile both parts of her being, both instilled fear but different kinds of fear and for completely different reasons. Feeling her desperation permeate the room he made a definitive decision and moved into the bed next to her, above the blankets and pelts of course, and held her close surprised at her lack of protest but thankful all the same as he allowed her to cuddle up to him and accept his silent comfort as they rode out the storm together.

Killian looked pensive, as if the storm had little effect as he lay pensive in a hammock he had set up earlier. While a grand bed was, well, grand – it was of little use during such rough waters and having been tossed a time or two from its comforts he made a point to keep one stowed away with hooks at the ready for nights like this…when his body could sway unperturbed as one with the oceans fickle currants.

It also helped keep his flask of rum steady, a flask that had been filled more times than he could keep track of over the course of what has seemed like forever but had truly just been less than a full day. A flash of lighting lit up the room and his eyes cast a pensive gaze at his stationary bed, still covered in a crimson coat that would need to be taken care of sooner than later.

He took a deep swing from his flask, feeling the burn as it went down warming his insides and keeping the chill of the sea wind at bay, but did little to settle the cold inner chill perpetually present within him. He had felt a fire today, a real kindling of emotion he hadn't felt in a long time.

It terrified him.

Authors Notes

It seems a few things need to be addressed. I didn't want to include a super long note at the beginning because let's be honest you all would have skipped it (as I would have as well) to get to the good stuff and I don't blame you because you have all waited "some-what" patiently for it.

1. I do honestly apologize for the REDICULOUSLY super long wait, I truly have not given up on this story and I hope this chapter posting is a little olive branch to that testament, in fact I have a notebook full of ideas and plots and stuff dedicated to this fic alone. Alas that said [here is the but you were all expecting]- I do have a real life, I work full time (40-60+ hours a week) and I go to graduate school – those two things alone eat up most of my free time if you don't include real life like family and friends. As much as I love to write, sometimes I want a break, and unfortunately I don't like staying put in one fandom for too long or I get bored and become uninspired and unmotivated. So recently you might have seen some updates of one-shots from me for Robin Hood BBC (my newest obsession), and you my faithful reader might even be writing a fic that I have read and reviewed on. Some updates may take longer than others depending on my mood and real life, and I will agree that leaving all you so long with that bad of a cliffy was mean of me. I completely understand if you hated me, in fact in the words of Sorrynotsorry's review: "I hate you..-_- like legit hate. How dare you?! I demand you quit your real life and dedicate it to finishing this fiction." I will try to work on that and not make you wait so long next time ;) however those many reviews you all sent berating me for a review were actually welcome motivation. None of my fics have had such dedicated readers before! Granted I havn't written something so lengthy before either!

Truth be told, I was really inspired to update this particular story based on me becoming nostalgic on a fanfic that I loved and adored and followed religiously as a teen in the Buffy fandom, I was always on the edge of my seat for the next update, and one day in 2006 she stopped posting completely and hasn't since and I still check her website religiously every year with the hopes something has been updated or a sign of life has occurred – knowing how that feels I didn't want to leave you all for any longer.

However, sadly, I cannot promise that the next chapter will be fast coming, and I have plans to go back and re-read and maybe edit the previous chapters first prior to writing Chapter 16 but I can say I will never give up on this fic and will chip away on this story until I am 90+ years old if I have to!

2. Oi! I know I know I know! Killian, this fic NEEDS more Killian. I am aware of this little problem and aim to fix it soon. I have been leaving him out though on purpose, obviously Ariel doesn't like him at the moment for reasons and I am purposefully showing that distance by not including as much of him recently. I will try to move this along to get to the good Killian/Ariel snippets I have jotted down. I don't know how you lot put up with me and my love of OC's lol – I hope the wait becomes worth it. Just know the end game has not changed, no matter how much I hint at Ariel/John.

3. I have an obsession with OC's and back story, which is why you have all learned so much about Doc and Aladdin and should expect to eventually be learning more about Kamal and Max and whoever else I think up to throw in along the way. Also if you have not noticed I like detail and I can't even feel bad about it because I like reading stuff with lots of details (even insignificant ones).

4. I will be honest; I have no idea what I am doing with Peter Pan yet in this fic…like at all. I guess we will cross that bridge when I get to the point of having to deal with that plot point (guess it's a good thing Peter is not my story arc). I hate loose ends though, so I will figure it out. If you have any suggestions though, any plans or ideas on it, thoughts or comments, I would love to hear them. Shoot me a review or PM on it. In fact, I welcome any ideas you guys have, even if I don't use them because it helps spur creativity :)

5. This note is mostly in response to a Guest review I received: "Horrible things happen in everyday life yes, but this is your story you didn't have to write it in here." I would like to point out that I am writing this for fun and for me. As much as I love reviews, comments, feedback (critical and praise), favorites, and follows, at the end of the day I am not doing this for me because I love writing and I love fanfiction and sometimes I love dark stories. That said, as my story, I will include and write whatever it is that I want or feel like –I decided the rape scene (after much internal debate) was something that needed to be included for the purposes I have in mind for this fic and though I can understand your POV I am not going to be sorry for having used it nor am I going to remove it. However, I do apologize if it offends anyone, but I think I have been pretty up front and honest about the warnings before hand. It's a bit of a darker ficlet (and I still even 15 chapters in consider this the beginning of the story). As a fair warning to all reading this, I am not quite done with the horrible things happening to Ariel yet, though there might be a break in between them. Though this fic is far from realistic (and I know that), a real Pirate's life was tough and harsh and gritty and I have a few more things in mind yet before our characters get a happy ending (which I will spoil this for you – they are getting a happy ending, in fact it's already written). Also, this is fan fiction, it's not real and it's not meant to be factual nor taken seriously. Bad things happen in real life all the time and there are plenty of fluff pieces out there available to read.

6. Playlist time: Sebastian – In War With Love /Anna Ternheim – No I Don't Remember/Alexz Johnson – Criminal/Nural – Forgive Me/Lissie – Everywhere I Go.

Until Next Chapter my Pets ;) - Muse Killian