A/N: So wow…it would be very easy for me to sit here and get really sentimental with you guys, but I'm going to refrain until the end. …Okay, I lied. I know I'm going to just end up repeating myself later on, but I cannot thank you guys enough for the insane amount of support, feedback, and encouragement you've given me through out this whole entire story. I know I say it frequently, but please don't think I'm ever not serious when I say how much I appreciate it. You guys are absolutely wonderful.

Anyway, I believe that's enough out of me for now. So here it is – the last and longest chapter to date. I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I own a very large nothing.

Chapter XV:

"This time I'll be sailing. No more bailing boats for me. I'll be out here on the sea; just my confidence and me. And I'll be awful sometimes; weakened to my knees. But I'll learn to get by on the little victories."

-Little Victories, by Matt Nathanson-

-One year later-

Jonathan tiptoed quietly, his hammock forgotten as he made his way upstairs and out onto the main deck.

He no longer needed to spend his nights there; afraid of being held up in the darkness what was the lower deck where the rest of the crew always slept. In fact, he was at a point where he couldn't imagine sleeping anywhere else. The company of others, even in sleep, was extremely comforting to him. Of course, that didn't mean he never snuck up to sleep by the wheel, or that he didn't take joy out of residing in the Captain's cabin on those rare nights in which he had become slightly ill.

But night was slowly turning into day; the sun rising over the horizon and hitting the Sacred Heart with a gentle glow. Like his Captain, he was definitely becoming something of an early riser. Not too mention it was his turn to ring the morning bell; yet another reason to get up early.

But his real reason for today's early awakening was simply this: It'd been a year since his family had passed. A year since the Captain invited him to remain on the vessel; to remain a part of their family. A year since he followed Percival down into the galley to be lovingly embraced by Christopher and even a few others. The only thing that had struck him as odd was Shilling Guy's almost immediate decision to start picking on him again. He'd given no explanation for this sudden turn of events, but Jonathan didn't let it bother him too much. He was getting better at sticking up for himself, and he figured long ago that the crewman's behavior was like that of an older brother, though he preferred Turk's older sibling mannerisms over Shilling Guy's any day…

But all of that had happened a year ago, and while he would forever be grateful that he was here with the Captain and his endearingly quirky crew, that did not mean he would let this day pass without recognition towards the family he had lost in the process.

With the morning sun caressing his skin, Jonathan lowered himself to the ground; knees planted on the boards of the ship as he folded his hands in prayer.

Jonathan drew in a shaky breath. Truth be told, he knew very little about how one went about praying. Was there even a wrong or right way? His family hadn't been church goers, nor had he seen anyone other than Christopher partake in such a custom on board the ship, but he'd never asked him if there was a certain way to go about it before.

So very slowly, very carefully, Jonathan began to speak, the waves lapping gently against the ship as he did so. "Um…hi, God. Okay…that probably wasn't the best way to start. I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm doing, but actually, I don't think that bothers you. But, anyway, um…I don't know how to say this, so I'm just going to say it: Thank you. I was heartbroken to come home and find my family…my family gone. But looking back at everything that's happened to me so far, I'm starting to see a pattern: Whenever something devastating happens – something that I'm not even sure I can handle – something good always comes from that bad thing later on. Maybe it's not instant, but it does…eventually. And I guess that's life, isn't it? And I know even though I'm thanking you, even though other bad things may happen, leaving me…leaving me scared and not knowing what to do, I know I'm not going to think something like, 'It'll all work out,' because sometimes it doesn't. I know that. Or maybe it does, but it's not always revealed in perfect pictures. Um…I don't really know what I'm saying anymore. I think…what I think I'm trying to say is thank you for giving me Captain Percival. Thank you for giving me this crew and this ship. And thank you for not leaving me in that graveyard. And please forgive me when other bad things happen, and I forget about you, and I don't think things like, 'It'll all be okay in the end.' But I think you'll forgive me for that, if it happens. I don't know why exactly, but I do.

"Oh, and God? Could you…can you tell my mom and my brother I said hi? That I love them and that I really hope they're proud of me? That I won't forget them? And could you…could you tell Ben I said hi too, please? If it's okay, could you tell him that we miss him and that the Captain finally opened up to somebody else? I think he'd be happy to hear that, if he doesn't know already. Actually, I think he probably does. But if you could tell him that anyway, I'd really appreciate it. Thank you. And, um…Amen."

--

Captain Percival sat at his desk, mixing a small cup of medicine he created while looking up at the map that hung delicately on his wall.

Where to sail next?

He was usually more than adequate in terms of finding himself and his crew a new and well received location. Just last month, he'd led them to a cave in which bits of gold had embedded themselves into its stone walls. A couple of months before that, they had bombarded a ship led by the Navy; a cargo ship that had been taking what was supposed to be being delivered to those less fortunate than themselves, and instead selling it's cargo to others in order to buy their own valuables. He'd heard the tale from Carla last they made port, who had undoubtedly heard it from Laverne. He was quick to track them down and take all they had, while also managing to tie up said, "Good men" and deliver them back to their home base with a not-so-kindly-worded note tacked to the front of their uniforms. Rat bastards…

Yes, he was very good at coming up with new destinations that both kept his vow intact while still pleasing the crew. This morning, however, he was coming up blank. He had to give them some kind of goal sooner or later. It'd been almost a month since his last announcement, and he could tell the crew was worried about him. (Something he wasn't sure he liked or disliked, though whether or not he would say it out loud, he happened to appreciate that his crew turned to concern rather than mutiny. Hell, even the Tall Guy showed no signs of anger. Well, at him anyways. Newbie, on the other hand…)

That thought caused the older man to grin, turning his attention away from the map and onto the present that sat idly on the corner of his desk.

Jonathan was not only a damn good person, but a damn good pirate. No, not cabin boy. Never cabin boy. But a full fledged pirate; through and through. He knew all the ins and outs of the ship now. Knew how to both clean and load the canons, how to make anchor, how to tie all the right knots and hoist each and every sail. And he did it all with a sort of charisma that he'd never really been able to pinpoint, but it was felt through out the ship; through out all of the crew members, actually.

Of course, he still had lessons to learn. Lessons involving both life and the sea. But none of that ever fazed Jonathan. He was constantly craving new things to do; new things to learn. New places to see and understand. He wanted to embrace it all, this new life of his, and Percival was more than happy to comply, even if he didn't always go about doing it with, well, you know…the happiest of composures…

But over the year, he had gotten better at showing the lad affection in front of others, whether it was a small hair ruffle or an approving nod. But their best conversations still took place when it was just the two of them, whether it was a private sparring practice or a late night discussion out on the main deck. Either way, both he and the boy were content; a life which he thought he'd never be given again.

Percival placed the cup down, reaching over to the kid's birthday gift and fingering the rim. He'd gotten it for the lad last they made port. He would've given it to him on his actual birthday, which happened to be just a few weeks back, but Baldy and the others had gone about getting him wasted. While he still wasn't particularly sure why turning twelve made getting drunk a necessity, he'd let it go on without comment, downing a few bottles of rum and carrying the kid to his hammock when he'd given his last drunken giggle of the evening, passing out and diving into dreamland.

Since then, he hadn't found the right time to go about giving him the damn thing. Until this morning, that is, when he realized that it'd been exactly one year since the boy officially became a part of their crew.

Standing up from his desk, gift in hand, he made his way out onto the deck. He'd worry about where it was he was leading the crew to later. This morning it was the kid's turn to ring the bell, giving them a solid five minutes alone. Maybe more, if the crew was feeling particularly lazy today… Of course, he'd usually yell at them for that, but today if it happened, he'd let it slide.

Opening the door of his cabin, he was surprised to see Newbie already out there; the kid on his knees and his hands folded as if in – Was he…was Jonathan praying? He'd never seen the kid pray before. Did he do this every morning? No, he definitely would've noticed by now. Still, it struck him. Not because he himself didn't believe in God, but because people had the tendency to pray only when things went wrong. So was something wrong with Jonathan? Was that why he was praying?

Percival debated on whether or not he should wait it out in his cabin, not wanting to interrupt the kid in his prayer, even if he thought such an act was a waste of time. But over the gentle waves of the ocean and the cool, morning air, Jonathan's voice hit him, and while the kid was praying rather softly, he was able to make out part of it very well…

"I think…what I think I'm trying to say is thank you for giving me Captain Percival. Thank you for giving me this crew and this ship. And thank you for not leaving me in that graveyard."

The older man swallowed. Newbie wasn't asking for anything, was he? He was just…just praying. Just saying thank you…

Maybe he didn't know if God existed or if prayer did anything real, but watching Jonathan, thinking on how much he grew in the past year, of all that led them to where they were now, well…

His musings were cut off as Jonathan stood up from his knelt position, brushing off his pants as he did so.

The Captain merely quirked an eyebrow when the boy turned around, squeaking and losing balance upon seeing him there. He regained his stance soon enough, rubbing the back of his neck in obvious embarrassment.

"Alright there, Newbie?"

"I, um…yeah."

"Uh-huh. Anyway, kid, you were too smashed for me to give this to ya' on your birthday there, but here you go."

Jonathan's eyes widened in awe as the older man presented him with his present. But when did he - ?

"Got it last we made port," Percival replied, answering the boy's unspoken question. "They don't usually make them your size, you know, so I had to get the damn thing measured. Remember when Baldy said that he was measuring your head for whatever surgical crap he was making up at the time? That was an order by me; one of the few he obeyed without pouting in the process…"

Jonathan's fingers grazed over the leather; over the fine stitching and three separate corners that was his gift. He hadn't received anything like this from the Captain since he'd been given his sword all that time ago. Not that he was complaining, of course. He just never thought an exchange such as that one would ever happen again. "Captain, I… Thank you. Thank you so much!"

The older man smiled; one of those rare, genuine smiles that Jonathan couldn't help but glow over every single time. "You gonna try it on or what?" he finally asked, tone playful.

Jonathan obeyed at once. It fit magnificently; his first ever tricorn hat. He couldn't wait to see himself in a mirror. "I love it, Captain, I love it! Thank you so, so much. I just –"

"Alright, Newbie, alright. No need to get all sentimental on me. How about you go ring the morning bell there, savvy? I'm starving and would more than appreciate a good amount of breakfast."

The brunet nodded, face still split in two, as he scampered over to the bell and tolled it loudly. "Breakfast, the lot of you, breakfast! Up, up, up!"

--

"'Morning, Turk!"

"Hey, buddy." Turk looked up from his tray of food, smiling broadly upon seeing what JD was wearing. "So he finally gave it to you, huh?"

"You knew?"

"Well, I knew he was getting you something, and that it had something to do with him wanting me to measure your head. Huh…guess I should've put two and two together…"

JD just laughed as he took his place next to his best friend, still enjoying the feel of the hat that now adorned his head.

"So do you think we'll find out where we're heading next today?"

Jonathan chewed on his food thoughtfully, not quite knowing how to answer. Like the rest of the crew, he was curious as to what their next destination would be, but he had refrained from bringing it up with the Captain since it became apparent that he himself wasn't sure.

"I honestly don't know, but I'm up for anything," Jonathan answered truthfully, swallowing down another bite of his biscuit. "Hey! What if we made port? Do you think…do you think Elliot would like my new look?"

Turk smiled broadly. "You do know she's at least ten years older than you, right?"

JD just pouted, his face turning pink in the process. "So?"

Christopher gave his friend a playful shove as he went back to eating his food. JD took another bite from his own breakfast, thinking on the reality behind Turk's words. Yeah, he knew he was right. But hey, a boy could dream, couldn't he?

--

Percival gripped the wheel tighter than necessary, his frustration over sailing aimlessly weighing heavily on his mind. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he come up with a decent place to head to next?

But he knew the answer. He'd known the answer for a few months now, actually.

No matter what profession he found himself in, he knew he would never be as satisfied with his "job" the way he had been when he was still a physician. Sure, being a pirate had its advantages, and thanks to Newbie, he was finally at place in his life where he didn't mind waking up in the morning. And even before Newbie, Ben…Ben had made the life of a pirate bearable; fun, even. Though he'd never told him that… He was sure Ben knew though. His first mate had always been able to read him like a book…

The older man shook his head. He couldn't dwell on it. His days as a physician were over, he knew. It just snuck up on him sometimes; the truth that was the vast difference between his current "field of work" in comparison to his last. He used to save lives every day. And now he what – stole from people? Alright, so there were perks, obviously. And because he was, after all, a very talented man, he had made his new life work for both him and those around him.

But that didn't mean he never missed being a physician.

Still, he had to come up with a new place to travel to sooner than later. The crew was getting antsy. He had felt their curiosity at breakfast earlier; their anxiety.

Hell, maybe it was best to just make port for now. Maybe one of Carla or Laverne's stories would grab his attention, giving him an idea as to where to sail to next. Not to mention he was pretty sure that Jonathan was eager to show off his new hat… Percival rolled his eyes, thinking on the kid's obvious crush for Blondie that he had yet to actually tell him about out loud. It was a good thing for her that she was older than the kid was, because if they were close enough in age where it made it even a remote possibility, then no – no, no, no, no, no. He wouldn't allow it, damn it. She wasn't good enough for his Newbie…

A sudden burst of laughter caught the older man's attention. Using his peripheral vision, Percival saw JD clutching at his sides, while Turk went about telling whatever kind of story with an obvious glint in his expression. With each passing day, the Captain could tell how close the two pirates were becoming. While it was true Baldy drove him crazy, it was also true, as Ben had once told him, that he was a good sailor. And really, he was happy JD had someone to go to when he was busy running the ship. The kid needed that. Hell, everyone did.

"C-C-Captain?"

"Nervous Guy – you've been a part of this vessel for over a year now. Will you please stop it with the stuttering!?"

"I-I don't always…always do it out of-out of nerves. I think it's a na-natural stutter, Sir."

"I'm sure it is, Bethany. Now what do you want?"

"T-There's a sh-ship up ahead. I can't s-see the flag yet, but, um…I-I can tell its coming t-towards us."

"Ah, damn it! I am see-hoe not in the mood for this today. Alright, Pee-Pants, listen up. I want you to go up in the crow's nest – yes, I put you there because it's the one thing you're capable of doing – and I want you to shout down the minute you see what flag that ship sails under, aye?"

"A-Aye, aye."

"Good. Now scram."

It was only a moment after Murphy's depature did another much more welcoming voice hit the older man's ears. "Captain? Is everything okay?"

A distressed sigh. "Yeah, Newbie. Everything's fine. Why'd you ask?"

"You swore very loudly, Captain…"

"Ah… Well, Sir-Stutters-A-Lot just spotted a ship heading towards us, that's all, but it's too soon to tell if it's ally or foe."

Percival turned around then, hands still on the wheel, just in time to see the kid pale. JD had obviously used his sword since thee fight, but never had they actually been attacked by another since; never had a real fight taken place since that God-awful day. He'd used it when they took over the Navy's self-serving cargo ship, of course, and obviously when he sparred with his fellow crewmates, but never again had he used it, or had been forced to use it, rather, for real battle. The idea of a similar encounter happening again obviously scared him.

Percival turned towards the crow's nest, where Douglas stood waiting, spyglass pressed to his eye as he looked out at the horizon. It'd be a while before the vessel's colors were identified…

Just in case though, the older man called out to the rest of the ship, making the young lad before him startle. "APPROACHING VESSEL, LADIES! LOAD THE CANONS IN CASE IT'S AN ATTACK, YOU HEAR?"

"AYE, AYE CAPTAIN!"

Jonathan had turned away then, preparing to follow the crew and go about obeying the given command. A strong hand stopped him though, it's grip firm around the collar of his shirt. "Oh no you don't, Newbie. I have something else I want you to do."

"Huh? What else is there?"

Percival swallowed. This was a big step; for a number of reasons, really. Both nautically and even emotionally, this was big. But who's to say what ship approached their vessel? Who's to say he'd get the chance to do what he was about to do again? The kid was nervous, and while the initial act of such a lesson would inevitably make him jittery, the older man knew he could do it; knew the feel of it all would both give him the adrenaline rush he needed while also simultaneously calming him down.

"I want you to come up here and steer," he finally answered.

The kid's jaw dropped instantly, reminding the Captain of when he had first told the lad that they were going to spar against one another. The red head tried not to grin at the memory, or at the face that stared up at him now, clearly unbelieving.

"I…what?"

"You. Steer. The Sacred Heart. Me. Teaching. Any of this sinking in?"

"I…what!?"

Percival rolled his eyes. "Oh c'mon now, kid. I'm not just gonna leave you at the wheel there. Now come. Time to learn."

JD was visibly shaking as he walked closer to the Captain, the older man allowing him room in front of him in order to grip the wheel. For a moment, all Jonathan could do was stand there, hands hesitant and visibly twitching as he raised them both cautiously, his fingers lingering by the wheel's many handles but refusing to make contact.

Softly, so that the other crew members would not hear him, Percival bent down closer to Jonathan's level, making it easier for the kid to hear the sincerity behind his words. "You'll be fine," he coaxed quietly. "It's okay, Jonathan. I'm right here behind you if you need me. Grab the wheel, kid. Grab the wheel and breathe."

With a shaky intake of breath and a final flex of the fingers, Jonathan obeyed.

Oh, God…

"Now look ahead of you, Jonathan," the Captain went on in his same tone from before, voice both uncharacteristically soft and encouraging. "Look at the sea."

JD, who had been staring wide eyed at his own hands on the wheel, looked up and out before him; the sea's vastness and beauty hitting him like it had never hit him before.

Oh, the feel of it! The awe-inspiring sight of it!

Such an amazing wonder, whatever this was. This something-or-other he had never felt before. This…this…What was it?

"You're in control, kiddo. You have the wheel. You're deciding where it goes, where it moves. And what you see before you isn't just the ocean, but the absolute freedom that is where it could lead you; to wherever you want to go."

"Amazing," the brunet breathed finally, voice a mere whisper as his eyes remained wide with wonder.

"It is, but Jonathan…you have to know how to use that freedom; to use that control. Wisely. Selflessly. And I'm showing you this at an early age, because I think, more than anybody here, you'll be able to handle it best. Well, anyone besides me, of course… But this won't be a permanent position, Jonathan. I still don't want you steering the craft in shifts with the others. But I want you to feel this and take it in; remember it. And I want you to think on it before you reach the point of steering by yourself; of taking the wheel and guiding it where you will, or guiding it to a given destination, or just guiding it at all."

Jonathan nodded, the flesh on his arms erupting into goose bumps from both the wheel in his grasp and the Captain's words of wisdom. "Aye, Captain."

"Good lad."

There were a few more minutes of Jonathan steering, his posture visibly relaxing as he went about turning the vessel in barely noticeable directions, but the peace of the moment was interrupted by a quavering, stuttering voice.

"T-The Navy, Captain!" Douglas cried, running up to them from the crow's nest. "It's vessel is that of the Navy's!"

--

"Ah, hell!"

Jonathan watched, rigid, as the Captain grabbed the spyglass from Doug, putting it up to his own eye to examine for himself the situation at hand. Brave pirate or no – when a large ship from the Navy was sailing directly your way, you either fired, killed, or ran. Firing usually led to killing – something Percival would not do, and as much as the older man loathed turning in the opposite direction, he was by no means going to put the rest of his crew in danger by getting the lot of them caught and hanged from the gallows. No way in hell.

So JD was surprised when, while looking through said spyglass, the Captain merely quirked a puzzled eyebrow. "That's new," he finally stated.

"S-Sir?" Douglas asked hesitantly.

"They're raising the flag of surrender, yet they're the ones initiating this little get together, and you know what there, Pee-Pants? I think that's exactly what this is: A get together. And I don't think they're using that flag as a sign of surrender, but as a sign of peace. Huh…"

Jonathan moved away from the wheel, allowing the Captain to step in and turn it in the direction of the Navy's approaching ship. "HOLD FIRE!" he shouted to the crew, all of them clearly apprehensive.

"Captain," Christopher spoke up then, walking over to where they stood. "Don't you think it could be a trap?"

"Why gee, Eliza, really? Of course I've thought of that, you idiot. But truth be told, the likely hood of them going through the trouble of finding us, simply to come as they are, is very, very slim; especially if they're after our capture. They Navy isn't a peaceful group, no matter how much they'd like you to believe otherwise. If they want a noose around your neck, well, they're not shy to let you know. But they are selective. They go after the biggest, baddest pirates out here, and while I may be the biggest, I'm most certainly not the baddest. There are still plenty of cut throats out here whose time is spent only in malicious, devious ways. They wouldn't be after me if they were simply looking for a higher position from whoever sent them our way."

So Percival turned the boat in the Navy's direction, their two ships coming closer and closer as the minutes passed. Jonathan swallowed. He was scared. Very scared. But if the Captain believed this to be safe, then he was going to trust him.

Finally, after what felt like a small eternity, the approaching vessel was close enough for all eyes to see, spyglass or no. Jonathan visibly relaxed upon seeing the expressions held on the ship opposite of theirs. They were nervous, clearly. Nervous of them and nervous of Percival, but no one was standing as if in attack. No swords were drawn; no pistols aimed their way. And while they appeared undoubtedly apprehensive, there was a calm, sort of peace there. It wasn't a trick. That much was now certain. Yet when Jonathan looked towards the Captain, ready to celebrate that all was well, he was surprised to see the older man's expression tight with anger; blue eyes piercing as they gazed on at the Navy through narrow slits.

"Captain…?"

"It's them."

"I'm sorry?"

But the Captain wasn't really talking to him any more. He was just ranting; clearly enraged. "What do they want from me? Thos rat bastards. Couldn't of killed any more patients out here on the sea now, could I? What, they plan on branding me as a pirate twice? All be damned if they think I'm up for a little tea party or whatever the hell this is. I am ra-heely not in the mood!"

And suddenly Jonathan knew: The men on the ship opposite of them – they weren't just any vessel of the Navy's, no. They were the men in charge of Percival's home town; the men who had taken Kelso's word over his.

The men who had branded him as a pirate.

"MR. COX!" one of them shouted when they were close enough. "WE COME HERE TO NEGOTIATE!"

The crew turned to their Captain at once, whose ears were turning a shade of pink not often seen on the red headed pirate. "'Cox?'" Todd asked suddenly, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

"None of you heard that," the Captain responded threateningly.

"MR. COX, PLEASE!"

Percival left the wheel in a fury, jumping up on the railing that faced them and crossing his arms. He was staring them down, eyes narrow, and Jonathan could see the men on the Navy's ship step a few feet backwards. The Captain was the perfect picture of one extremely pissed off pirate.

"That's Captain Percival!" he growled at them, their ships now close enough where screaming wasn't necessary. "Remember? Captain? It's that pretty little title you gave me when you took my career and everything along with it. Now ladies, I know you're all shaking in your polished boots and wondering what it is this mad physician who supposedly killed three innocent lives is going to do to you, but here's the kicker – I don't kill. So I'd advise you all to say what it is you came here to say and leave. Leave before I come over there myself and make you leave. And trust me – I will."

There was a long, awkward silence from the ship that now faced there's, but then finally, one of them spoke up. "W-We were wrong."

"I'm sorry there, Billy the Brave, can I hear that again?"

"W-We were wrong!"

"Wow, really!? Now how'd you geniuses come up with that magnificent conclusion?"

"Enid."

There was a very long, very quiet pause, this time from the Captain rather than the Navy. "Enid…Kelso's wife… Alright, this needs explaining, and I mean now."

"A-About…about a year after, um…after it all happened. Enid told us."

"'Told you?' I thought the poor woman was crippled. How was she able to get to you? How did she even know?"

"She was. Crippled, I mean. Which is why it took her a year to reveal the truth. Robert never helped her out of the house; he damn well near kept her locked there. She had nothing to assist her in terms of getting out herself, which was driving her mad more than usual, because she alone knew what had happened. She had heard her husband's conversation with his assistant Theodore; revealing to him his plan and how…how he went about setting you up… It'd been eating at her for a year, and yet she could do nothing about it.

"Until one day, I went to visit Robert myself; to…to commend him on supposedly saving a dying patient's life the day before… But anyway, when I walked in, Enid was there, looking at me like a savior. I had no idea why. Apparently, I was the first visitor in over a year besides Theodore, and since…since I had a hand in what happened to you, Captain Percival, she knew it was me who she needed to reveal the truth to.

"She kept on signaling to me with her hands; kept on indicating that we go into a private room. I was hesitant; very hesitant. According to Robert, his wife was not only crippled, but crazy as well. But I looked into her eyes, and it was void of lunacy; empty of any and all madness in terms of the mind. The only thing there was desperation, and an obvious hate for her husband. So I excused myself for one reason or another, and was able to hide myself in a room that was out sight and close enough for Enid to manage her way over.

"She told me then; told me everything she had heard and everything she knew to be true. I was bewildered; baffled, even. I could not believe that Robert, of all men, would do such a thing."

Percival openly scoffed, causing the men opposite of him to blush, while the crew of the Sacred Heart visibly scowled at the Navy's oblivious words.

"But then," the soldier continued, "She let out a gasp, and when I turned around, Robert was standing in the door way. His face was one of ultimate rage. Yes, I saw the evil there; his eyes aflame with what had been revealed. I saw it before he wiped his expression clean, putting on that smile that had charmed so many into believing his lies. Looking at it then though, the only thing it managed to do was sicken me. I could tell by the way he escorted me out, by the way he talked of his wife and how she was clearly losing her mind; I knew. Knew Enid had been telling the truth.

"I was quick to inform the other men, and in less than an hours time, we were there to arrest him; there to condemn him to the same life that we, unfortunately, condemned you too as well."

There was yet another long pause, in which Percival asked a question that the Navy obviously didn't expect to be asked. "And Enid…?"

"…He'd killed her, Mr. Cox. Killed her before we were able to make his arrest."

The crew audibly gasped, while Jonathan felt his stomach turn in horror. He swallowed down his disgust as best he could, hardly believing his ears, and when he turned to his Captain, he could see it there too; the horror. Though the man hid it better than the rest of the Sacred Heart. What he was having trouble hiding, however, was the glimmer of sadness beneath his eyes; those same eyes that continued to stare at the Navy before him. Percival hadn't known Enid. Had never really met her. Yet she had revealed the truth to all; had risked her life to destroy the man who had undeniably tortured her. The truth was, out of all the lives Kelso had ruined and tortured, Enid's life was the one he had made the most miserable, even before her untimely death. And this woman, who had never met Percival either, had acted upon what she knew to be true. She had cleared the Captain's name of his condemnation.

"Our town – your town – has no physician," the soldier finally started up again. "We are in need of one; desperately. And you…you were by far the best. You always were. And yet we…we foolishly dismissed your words. We did this to you, we know that. We also know you owe us nothing, but please – people are sick; always someone sick, and there is no one there to help them. The other physicians only know the basics, and the few surgeons we have are good at what they do, but with no one to tell them what it is that needs to be looked at or cut, it is near impossible for them to go about their jobs. Please, Mr. – Captain Percival. We need you."

Jonathan swallowed. He knew very well that his Captain would not do anything to please the Navy; especially the people that had so easily taken from him all that he had ever known. But for the people who were dying; for the people in his home village…

The brunet was struck with an old memory then; one that he had almost forgotten. Hadn't he once contemplated their lives together, other than what they were doing now? Hadn't he once thought what it would be like, the lot of them, partaking in something other than piracy?

But they weren't asking for the crew of the Sacred Heart. They were asking for Percival and Percival alone.

"Fine," the Captain finally answered, "but on one condition."

--

Jonathan was running.

His heart raced wildly as he ran – faster and faster – towards his destination. He could not, would not disappoint. Almost there, almost there. Faster and faster and –

"Got it!" he breathed out triumphantly, lungs still straining after the run. "Had," intake, "some trouble," outtake, "finding it."

"Breathe, Newbie. For God's sake, kid, the man's not dying."

Dr. Percival took the vile from Jonathan's hand, presenting it to the man before him. "I want you to sip this for the next hour. Make it last, you hear me? Your nausea will end soon enough, but if you'd be interested in gee, I don't know, not vomiting up everything you've eaten in the past year – again – you might want to lay off the foods that I've told you over and over and over and over again not to eat, seeing as how they ca-learly make you sick. No whaddya' say?"

The man blushed as he accepted the vile of medicine awkwardly. "I – yeah, okay… Thank you, Dr. Percival."

"Uh-huh. Now scram. There are other patients to see; ones whose illnesses came from causes they couldn't prevent, rather than being too stupid to follow simple directions."

The man scurried off, eyeing the brunet for only a moment before exiting the small examination room.

"You're such a warm hearted physician…"

"Watch it there, Newbie."

But JD just giggled, his happiness at the point of overflowing.

It'd been a whole month since he and the crew of the Sacred Heart sailed back to Percival's home town. Jonathan had admittedly been frightened upon hearing the older man accept the Navy's offer, but his one condition – God bless his soul – was that the crew of the Sacred Heart be allowed to work with him in his old profession. Proving that, once and for all, his lecturing and scolding them meant only that he cared; that he would not see the crew that had stuck by him so loyally be left alone.

Of course, if you ever told him this out loud, he'd flick your ear with a vigor that you'd never believe possible.

But it was wonderful, absolutely wonderful, to be here in his mentor's old community. Houses had been built to accompany its new villagers. Turk, who was beyond happy at being given the chance to train as a surgeon, had requested a house slightly bigger than one person would need. When Jonathan asked him why, the bald ex-pirate smiled triumphantly. "When things die down a bit," he had answered, "I'm going to go back and get her. Wait for it, little buddy. I'm going to get her and she's going to appreciate the extra space. Just wait and see."

Todd had also taken to working with Christopher as a surgeon, but the best of them all, undoubtedly, was Wen. Percival had put him in charge of teaching the others, never having known till that point that he too had been a physician before piracy called his name.

Douglas, poor Douglas, was in charge of examining those who had passed. The very idea sent shivers down Jonathan's spine, but it never seemed to bother the quivering used-to-be-pirate. In fact, he seemed much more relaxed in his new profession. He'd been given the chance to work with medicine with both Percival and Jonathan as well, but the responsibility of being in charge over lives besides his own had scared him to no end, causing him to mess up on more than one occasion. So being in charge of those who had passed was, oddly enough, what he would consider a dream job.

The only one who wasn't too keen on helping those who were sick was Shilling Guy, yet he refused to leave the company of those of the Sacred Heart.

"But why don't you want to be a physician?" Jonathan had asked him in the beginning.

"Oh, so what – you think because I was a pirate with the rest of you makes me automatically want the same thing that you all want? This place is filthy, you know that? Filthy."

"If it's the training you're worried about, I'm sure Percival could –"

"Are you calling me stupid?"

"What!? No! I was just –" But he'd been cut off by the taller man, who had shoved the broom's straw, dirt covered end in the poor boy's face. Jonathan hadn't asked him why he'd rather clean than help patients since.

"Jonathan, pull your head out of the clouds, will ya?" Percival spoke suddenly, causing the young brunet to jump. "Go out into the waiting room and bring in the next patient."

The boy nodded quickly, running out and into what he thought was one of Percival's best ideas yet – the waiting room.

Patients, even if they did need to be visited within the confines of their home, had to go out or send out a family member to fetch the physician in need. A lot of people in Percival's field simply told them to go home and wait; that they had to obtain the medicine first before going about healing anyone, or that a multitude of people had already requested his service before him or her, sending the other sick individual home without guidance.

But Percival thought this process ridiculous; completely unhelpful. So he had extended on the building that used to be where he worked, creating a room in which patients could rest and wait comfortably, even if he was currently in the process of helping somebody else. And if it was a home visit, that's where Jonathan would step in; Percival's student and protégé who was learning more and more as each day passed. He would go to the house in question, but not before going over the diagnosis with his mentor, being told what would most likely be needed, and given the medicine to help treat said condition.

But it was Jonathan who came up with another idea for the waiting room; one that Percival had agreed to instantly.

On the walls of the room in which their patients sat sniffling, a series of paintings hung delicately; all of them beautiful and all of them stunning. They were looked at affectionately by those who came in; those who were sick and those who knew exactly where they had come from; the man who had painted them with love and dedication.

Jonathan stepped into the waiting room finally, surprised to see that no one was there. He hurried back to the examination room, where the older man stood putting various jars of medicines back into their proper place.

"Dr. Percival? That was the last patient of the day."

The red headed man looked over at him, clearly relieved. "About time. I swear – if one more person comes in here complaining over a sickness they don't even have, or another person who's only sick because they refused to follow my instructions in the first place, then I'm going to break something. I am."

Jonathan bit back a smile. He understood his mentor's frustration, of course, but he still couldn't help but glow when the older man confided in him, even if it was done through rant-format.

"So whaddya' say, kid – ready to go home?"

Every night, Percival would ask him this, and every night, Jonathan had to refrain from jumping up and down.

Home.

Living under the same roof, the two of them. Living together in a way that JD had only dreamed of.

Living together like that of a father and son.

The brunet smiled broadly, giving him the answer he gave every night. "Aye, Captain."

Usually, this response would earn him an eye roll; a small scoff, even. But tonight, the older man spared him an affectionate grin; one that understood the real meaning behind those two, simple words. How much that reply meant; for the both of them.

"Then grab your coat, kid. It's cold out."

The brunet did at once, following his Captain out of the building they'd named Sacred Heart and out onto the streets of their new village.

It was cold out, but Jonathan remained warm with the coat that had been purchased for him by Percival not long after settling there, and with the tricorn hat he still wore when the two of them weren't working.

And a warmth flooded through him, the best kind of warmth imaginable, as a cold wind swept over them both, causing the Captain to draw the lad nearer, placing a protective arm around his shoulder as they continued together on their way home.

Jonathan smiled. This wasn't another one of his fantasies. This was real. And honestly:

What more could a boy ask for?

-Fin-

A/N: So…that's it. Can you believe it? It's still sinking in, to be honest. And yeah, I know I'm about to sound like a broken record again, but thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. You've all been immensely supportive, and I hope beyond hope that you've enjoyed the final chapter of this story. Once again, you guys are amazing. Thanks so much for sticking with me. And of course, until next time. ;)