Family Reunion

Pirates were rarely ones to concern themselves with time—excepting of course the tides and the moon's phases—and schedules and curfews were particularly unheard of. However, ten years of suffering with a lifeless ordeal had trained the Pearl's crewmen to mind the countless minutes in a day, and when all eighteen of those who'd rowed ashore arrived back on the dock an hour later, Barbossa wasn't surprised.

Pintel cringed slightly as he bent down to lift another barrel of powder—curse or not, he would never have the luxury of forgetting his age. Squaring his jaw, he did his best to ignore the discomfort in his back and hoisted the five-liter barrel off the ground as quickly as possible. As he did so, the stocky pirate couldn't help but frown at his left hand, which now sported one less ring. Money meant nothing to the cursed crew at this point, but the right pieces of jewelry could mean money to any other pirate. And in their unforeseen need to make a purchase, the Black Pearl's crewmen had each used their only available form of currency for the bartering.

Despite himself, Pintel smiled. Money meant nothing to him and his fellows—for now. It was a thought that had passed through each of their minds not a day ago, quicker than a heartbeat and long before Barbossa had ever announced it out loud to all of them: there was only one more gold piece left to find.

And that was why they'd been so eager to get their hands on more gunpowder.

Without a word, Pintel handed the barrel off to Twigg, then turned once again to pick up another one.

"Oi, Rags!" he grunted without looking up. "Put in a 'and 'ere, aye?"

But there was no response.

Puzzled, Pintel stopped and lifted his bald head. Rags wasn't one to ignore orders, at least not from him. Frowning in thought, the burly man momentarily deserted his task and glanced behind him at where the thin man should've been.

"Rags?" And just like that, his eyes were bulging with surprise.

Ragetti was gone.

At first, Pintel shot a look around at the cluster of crewmen in front of him, trying to pinpoint that one thin face. When this failed to give him any results, he spun around and proceeded to scan the bustling crowd of Hispaniola behind him. Another tense moment passed, and then at last, he caught sight of Ragetti's dirty blonde hair amongst the staggering bodies a considerable distance away.

And then Pintel saw the other man.

His angry fists clenched in an instant. It was the stranger. The man in the blue bandanna.

From where Pintel stood, he could see that the two were facing each other, though they both seemed vaguely wary of their situation. Ragetti's shoulders were hunched slightly, but he briefly raised his eyes from his fidgeting hands to acknowledge the older pirate. In turn, the strange man fiddled with the hem of his brown coat and spoke, earning a meek nod from Rags. They were having a conversation.

Pintel's face darkened as he understood. A conversation. A friendly chat between two old chums, or so it should have been. The bald pirate ground his rotten teeth. That slithering sot had given their crew nothing but trouble since their arrival, and he'd made that conflict even more personal after they'd stepped onto the docks—he had no right to have a conversation with Ragetti.

Another look of disgusted appeared on Pintel's face, and with a bitter kick at his discarded barrel, he set off to deal the filthy git's game an even fowler card.

But right as he did, something else happened that stopped him dead in his tracks.

The stranger took a step towards Ragetti, murmuring something inaudible, then lifting a heavy arm, he reached out…and placed his hand firmly on the young man's shoulder. Rags didn't even flinch at the contact; rather, he studied that hand through the corner of his good eye, and after a second's hesitation, he returned the gesture—with a smile.

Pintel just stared. What the blue blazes…What the devil…what was that? That lousy blighter had reduced Ragetti to a cowering heap of shame just an hour ago, and now the two were a second away from bloody embracing! What in Blackbeard's name was that?

It was the only thing the burly pirate could grasp right then: shock. It swarmed dizzily in his head, buzzing his ears and numbing a sickened part of him that even the curse hadn't touched. Rags had always found something to smile about, even throughout this ten-year nightmare, and whether he was entertaining himself with his gritty knife or a floundering, gasping fish, his dim-witted grin never changed. And yet…this time…this smile…was different. There was happiness in it, but that happiness was subdued, and in its humbleness, the warm emotion gleamed even brighter in his single blue eye. This smile had purpose, and it was that deep, undeniable reason that made it seem even greater than Ragetti's widest grin.

At last, the two men released each other. They paused only once more to share a final, meaning-filled glance, and once that was done, they turned and slowly went their separate ways. Ragetti's gaze strayed to his feet as he made his way back to Pintel, and in that instant, the shorter man realized that his comrade's expression had lost all trace of its happiness. That thin face looked nothing but dazed; more so than it'd ever been before.

Pintel opened his mouth to speak, but any words he'd hoped to say died in his throat. What could he possibly say? He hadn't been there. He hadn't heard any of the stranger's words; only Ragetti had. And only Ragetti knew how to handle the emotions that they had left behind. Shifting his feet, Pintel nodded slightly and lowered his eyes.

His lanky friend barely regarded him in his state of bewilderment, and without even blinking his half-wooden gaze, he stumbled right past Pintel.

He was starting to wish he hadn't heard any of those words either.

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It wasn't until the Black Pearl had left Hispaniola far behind her rudder that Pintel decided to break the silence.

He'd gotten used to the night. The whole crew had. None of them could ever forget the horror they'd felt the first time they'd seen themselves in the moonlight—the first time they'd seen themselves as these skeletal monsters—but ten years had taught them to accept it. Now, the Pearl's crew regarded their decaying moonlit corpses almost as indifferently as their true forms. Even so, Pintel was silently grateful to see his leathery skin return to its natural form the moment he stepped below deck.

Finding Ragetti was an easy enough task; the scrawny pirate had wanted solitude, and the bilges at the very bottom of the ship rarely earned a thought from any of the crew, least a visit. Sure enough, the minute Pintel stepped off of the last wooden stair and into eight centimeters of water, he caught sight of his friend's spidery shape huddled on the floor just off to the left. Squaring his jaw, the older buccaneer came closer in the darkness and studied his subject's timid face.

"Wot's wif you?"

Ragetti's bulging eyes stared straight ahead, blind to their surroundings. "…Nuffin'."

Pintel arched one lifeless eyebrow. "Nuffin' bothers me too," he said dryly, recalling their earlier conversation.

The younger man made no response, but slowly lowered his head and scrunched his knobby knees a little closer to his chest. His point made, Pintel crossed the final distance to the grimy wall and carefully seated himself beside Ragetti.

There was another pause as he studied the shadowy thin face, then Pintel finally got to the point. "He said sumfin' to yeh, didn't 'e? That fellow on the docks?"

Ragetti nodded. More silence.

Pintel lifted both eyebrows and twitched his head impatiently. "…Well? Wot'd 'e say?"

The other pirate lowered his gaze even more, as if he were a small hermit crab trying to disappear inside its salvaged shell and be forgotten. But then he found his voice again and spoke.

"…We…talked 'bout stuff. What we been doin', where we been goin'. It was nice, talkin'."

But Pintel knew there had to be more to it than that. "…And that's why you're hidin' down 'ere?" he asked skeptically. "…Wot 'appened, Rags?"

When he received no answer, he pressed on. "Was 'e teasin' you 'bout yer eye?"

Discomfort suddenly gripped Ragetti's features, and he shook his head, still looking down. "No. We was just…talkin'…"

Pintel leaned closer, becoming even more impatient. "You ain't tellin' me everyfin', Rags. Wot else did yeh talk about? Why was 'e pattin' yeh on the shoulder like that?" His voice grew sharper then. "Who was 'e?"

So alone Ragetti looked as he sat there, lightly twitching in fear and bowing his head so low that it was almost between his knees. His nervous eyes shifted towards Pintel at the final question, and then at last, he sucked in a deep breath and said in a voice that was barely a whisper, "…He was me dad."

At first, Pintel didn't believe it. A smirk appeared on his weathered face, and the older man turned away slightly as a ridiculous laugh escaped. "Your dad," he repeated to himself, still grinning. Rags wouldn't know his old man from a bloody sea monster—the silly twit had never seen either before in his life. But when he saw the dead look on Ragetti's face, his chuckles faded away, and he realized the truth in those labored words.

Pintel gazed at the other deeply. "…Your father?"

Ragetti nodded again.

The bald pirate's eyes shifted away, trying to recall their encounter with the stranger, trying to bring back some small detail that could've been a clue. "…How could yeh tell?"

"He looked just like me," Ragetti murmured. "And his name were Ragetti too. Oscar Ragetti…"

The words slowly sank in, and Pintel frowned at his own poor observation. How could he not have noticed that same thin-cheeked, gawk-eyed face?

He nudged the matter aside, returning his attention to his friend. "…So what 'appened?"

"We talked," Ragetti said again. There was no sharpness in his voice at all from the constantly repeated explanation; only sadness for what lay ahead. "Catchin' up. He wanted t'come wif us…but I said Barbossa was gonna be mad 'cause of all them fings 'e said to 'im 'bout the boats b'fore. So he wanted t'go to the tavern for drinks an' talk more…but I told 'im I couldn't do that neither. Said I had t'get back to the boats right away."

It was then that he looked at Pintel for the first time. "The sun was startin' t'go down and all…"

Pintel set his lips flat and nodded, understanding the hidden message. "You didn't tell 'im."

Unsure of what else to do, Ragetti shrugged. "How would yeh even go 'bout tellin' 'im? Prob'ly wouldn't've believed it anyway. We didn't…" The young man's voice trailed off at the ten-year-old memory, and his throat tightened as he recalled undaunted laughter in Barbossa's voice as the captain had welcomed his crew to their shares of the shimmering Aztec treasure. And then, the memory of Oscar Ragetti's weary, regret-filled face reemerged into his mind, and the one-eyed pirate hurried to speak his last thought before his throat completely closed. "There was a lot of fings I wanted t'tell 'im—"

And just like that, Ragetti lost it. He hunched forward sharply, and quickly lifted an arm to press the back of his fist against his trembling lips, stifling a soul-wrenching whimper. Beside him, Pintel edged away slightly, caught off guard by this sudden display of emotion.

"Rags…" he said stiffly, shaking his head as if Ragetti's loss was nothing to be upset about. His discomfort growing, he cautiously reached over and nudged his mate's side dismissingly. "Come on."

But his mind was swarming with thoughts of that stranger on the docks as well. He felt a strange disappointment for his rebuke of the man, a guilt even. He couldn't even begin to imagine what the old fellow was thinking right now. What could a man possibly think of this? To have a child for so long and never know it, and then to suddenly meet him by chance or destiny, only to lose him again… it didn't seem to make sense at first.

Pintel lowered his gaze and grimly looked away. It didn't seem to make sense at all.

But then all of a sudden, just as quickly as he'd forgotten himself, Ragetti seemed to gain control again. He lifted his head, sniffling loudly, and a trace of the dopey smile from that afternoon returned.

"…But it's okay," he said, still choked despite his newfound cheer. "'Cause we's only got one more piece left to find. We get that, all we gotta do is find Bootstrap's child. Then no more curse, aye? Aye, Pinters?"

Pintel nodded, recovering at the return of this familiar optimism. Much better.

"Aye, that's right," he confirmed. "Give it a little more time, we'll 'ave the gold…and then we'll just keep lookin'." He nudged the youngster a little harder this time, more playfully. "We're gettin' there, Rags."

And just like that, Ragetti's grin grew huge, his grief forgotten. "So this is sorta it, then?" He bobbed his head for a cheerful moment, meeting his companion's gaze, then absent-mindedly reached up to rub the tears from his wooden eye. Pintel wrinkled his face a little at the wet and considerably loud creaking sound, but decided to ignore it. Just this once.

The bald pirate nodded, still gazing firmly at Ragetti. "Aye. This be it."

Rags looked ready to say more, but before he could get so much as a giggle out, the pair had company. A small object twitched suddenly, revealing its place behind the thin crewman, then a split second later, a flash of wet fur caught Pintel's eye and a tiny shape sprang out of the shadows with a blood-curdling shriek. Ragetti instinctively yelped and dove forward, falling face-first into the grimy water with a loud splash. Before the startling incident could even begin to register with Pintel, the lanky pirate leapt onto all fours and scrambled for the stairs like a panicked dog. Rags flew up the creaking steps, still terribly off balance, and then with a giddy, mindless cackle, he was gone.

An instant later, Jack the monkey pounced onto the lowest step and threw another piercing screech at Pintel. Back to work.

Pintel quickly stood up, baring his teeth at the disruptive fleabag, then watched as it hopped up the steps to return to its master. Before he followed, however, the stocky old sailor paused as he recalled Ragetti's final words to him. A light suddenly gleamed in his yellowed eyes with realization, and donning a mischievous smirk, the bald pirate hurried for the stairs with newfound vigor.

This was definitely it.

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THE END

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(Further insight as to what Ragetti was thinking of when he shouted "Suffered, I have!" in Curse of the Black Pearl, and why he started to sound a little put out when he mentioned Will "settling some unresolved business" with Bootstrap in Dead Man's Chest.)

(This story is sort of a prequel to my other P&R fanfics "Just the Way it Should Be," "A World of Changes," "Our Own Reason," and the up-coming "Paradise of the Mind" and "To Pass the Time." They work as Pintel and Ragetti's biographies if you read them all in that order.)