The Stowaway (-Part Nine)

[PaperThings]

A/N: Yeah, I'm laughably bad about keeping my stories updated, I know. But I finally finished the first draft of my NaNoWriMo novel, so I wanted a little break, and I decided I'd adapt the first part of an original story I wrote so that it was fetishy (it already leans pretty far in the right direction, so I figured it would work). The only sad thing is, there's not sneezing in the first two parts. But there's some character set up, and since I have the second chapter done (minus editing) and the third almost done (just need to finish changing it a little), it shouldn't be too long before we get to the fun stuff. So... here goes . I know it's been a while since I wrote anything on here, so I hope there are still people interested in reading it, haha.

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Part One

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Somewhere far beyond the crescent-shaped bar, miles parallel from the ship’s wake, a whistle blew. The sharp ping announced sunset, time for all of Odette* to tuck their ambitions and rivalries in until morning. Of course, what the distant bleat really signified was the waking of nightlife.

“It’s your move, Collie.” Alabaster said. Alabaster was one of the men in the circle whom Collie knew less well. In fact, he doubted anyone on the ship knew more about Alabaster than what he told them; there was much to suggest that everything written on his official paperwork was lies. He introduced himself as a retired pirate, and though this was not so hard to imagine when you glimpsed his long red hair and gaze of uncapped confidence, it begged a whole host of other questions.

“Huh?” Collie tore his gaze from the melting skyline and shook himself back into the rhythm of things. “Sorry.” With a tired sigh, he rolled the dice. All of the sailors had some spare money, saved usually for their coastal stops, but Collie found that six months of dice and cards had nearly depleted his savings. Well, it had been a rough six months.

Word had arrived in January of his father’s death, and it had been impossible for Collie to leave the ship for the funeral or to even visit his remaining family at all. His cheeks still burned when he remembered his conversation with the Captain: “We are nearly halfway there, Sailor Michaels. Do you know how long it would take for you to catch up to us once again? Why, we would have already arrived at the island. I’m sorry, Sailor, but it is preposterous that you think it a possibility. We need you for this mission.” He had not even offered his condolences.

“Are you okay over there?” Harley asked.

Collie nodded, swallowing. He needed another drink. The more he drank, the more his crippling shyness and misery faded. Soon his hatred for conversation and for the bravado of these young men would be completely dulled, and he would not feel such an ache inside.

Knowing Harley would pry further, he avoided his friend’s eyes. Though there was little he wouldn’t share with Harley, the same could not be said for the others involved in their game – Alabaster, James, and Harley’s brother Jared. Besides, Connor Stallion sat in an armchair by the bar table, reading a book and probably ingesting every word they said. Collie and Connor had known each other before they boarded the ship, two summers ago. They had attended the same prep school, at which Collie was unpopular, unrecognized and poor, and Connor was everything Collie had ever wished to be.

Alabaster whistled at the roll. “Not bad.” He pushed a few of his own coins towards Collie. “Well, I suppose you win the round.”

Collie smiled absently. The smiles were mechanic, like everything else about these nights, and he pocketed the winnings knowing that he should go to bed before they were spent. But he did not really want to sleep with a wakeful mind, because that would mean thinking too hard.

Though The Rogan’s Well had neglected to hire an actual bar tender, they had not neglected to fill the counter shelf with bottles and bottles of alcohol. Harley had once said they had enough to last them six years; of course, everyone hoped the voyage would be over slightly before then.

“Don’t you ever wonder why no one else comes in here?” Harley asked, propping his feet against the rough wooden table. “There’s liquor, there’s a nice view…” He winked towards the sunset, as if he spotted someone he knew amongst the sunshine, and Collie wondered again what Harley saw that others did not.

Alabaster said a nasty word that six months ago would have made Collie blush, and splashed all over the table as he attempted to fill the glasses. James rose and snatched the bottle from him. “They’re all that way,” he added cheerfully, kicking James indelicately in the behind. James cursed as the glass slipped from his hands and shattered.

“The others are smarter than us,” Jared said softly. He was a solid, impenetrable man, two years Harley’s senior, and allegedly so devastated by his sister’s death that he’d attempted suicide the day after she died. Harley once confessed to Collie that that was how they ended up a part of the island mission; the Delantis parents signed them up, hoping something of purpose would save their two surviving children from demise. “They’re studying.”

The Rogan’s Well contained exactly two hundred sailors, all of them men. It was said that the captain was a misogynist – in addition to a sadist and a crazed, maniacal theorist – and had no patience for women. Most of the men aboard were younger than thirty, and the youngest was the Captain’s messenger, Marcus, who was only thirteen. The mission paid well, and so some had signed up for the money; others wanted something of value to display when they applied for later jobs. A few truly wanted to see the island and participate in the captain’s experiment. Collie doubted his friends were a part of the last small margin. Well, perhaps Alabaster was.

“Studying what?” James snorted. “I didn’t know there was anyone slick enough to bring books along.”

At this, Connor looked up from his own book, smirking. “You don’t enjoy reading, Spickshore?”

James did a double take. Connor made it very clear he was above the rest of the ship, even the high-sailors; it was rare for him to speak with them. “I think,” he said slowly, pausing to down some of his gin, “reading is for people too arrogant to actually do anything with their life.”

“Interesting,” Connor said, voice calm, a smile still on his lips. “Well, gentlemen, I suppose I’m off. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” He bowed his head, his neat black hair as shiny and healthy as ever. He stopped just before the door and winked at Collie, his blue eyes holding laughter.

The door to the cabin swung shut, and Harley put his hand against Collie’s shoulder. “Don’t let him get to you.”

Had his anger been that obvious? Collie forced his teeth to unclench, his fists to uncurl, and said, “I hate him.” He found his voice was hoarse with anger and went on, “He’s always thought he’s so important, only because of who his parents are.”

“My mother’s a Duchess,” Alabaster said sarcastically. “You don’t see me parading my superiority around.” But yesterday Alabaster’s mother had been an impoverished ballet dancer, so there was no stock in that argument.

James placed the glasses on the table and smiled at Collie. “You’re Collie Michaels. You don’t hate anyone.”

With his pink cheeks, his eager-to-please attitude, it was true Collie often appeared a witless, trusting sort of boy. Or he once had.

He stared blankly back at James, hastily finishing his drink and pouring another one. “That isn’t true,” he said softly, and Harley shot him a sympathetic glance. “It’s not,” he insisted at James’ disbelieving look. “I hate the Captain,” he said, and heard scoffing noises all around. Everyone hated the Captain. “I hate the high-sailors, the ones who police us and keep us from anything civilized. And I hate Connor Stallion.” It was a big speech for him, even when he had some alcohol in him. Out of breath, he stared at his hands.

James laughed, amusement and surprise battling on his face. “All right, all right. You’re not. Now relax, won’t you, kid?” Collie was the only one of them not to turn eighteen yet.

“Are we playing another round, or not?” Jared asked tersely.

“Nah,” Alabaster said. “Let’s enjoy the sunset.” He grinned with derision, but Collie took it to heart and stared once more out at the black, silhouetted waves that marked their future. At first he had dreamed about the island, nearly every night. What they would find there. Sometimes the dreams were utopian, sometimes nightmares. Would they uncover buried treasure or buried monsters? No one had any way of knowing.

Collie decided he did not want to stick around much longer. When his friends were drunk they became chatty, and depending on their moods this could either turn things stupendously hilarious, or far too serious. Collie and Harley had been friends since the very beginning, almost two years ago now, but Collie had once watched Harley with his brother and his others friends from a distance, almost imagining up their lives in his admiration of them. It was strange to hear their stories.

One very melancholy night, James told them how he’d been a soldier, sent off to battle by a father and mother who didn’t want him. When he couldn’t take it anymore, killing people and seeing people killed, he signed up for The Rogan’s Well expedition as a last hope.

“I’m going to sleep,” Collie announced. His pockets were lighter than when he entered, and that was usually a sign that the night needed to be cut off. He felt a sort of let down, a sadness curling around his toes, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep and never wake up. Harley gazed at him with concern. “I’ll… I’ll see you.” He could not remember if tomorrow was one of his working days, but was sure someone would tell him later.

Stumbling, he felt his way down the narrow, darkened passages of the ship. The bar was on the second floor; the dormitory he shared with five others – none of them his friends – was on the fourth. He then debated simply curling up and sleeping on the hallway carpet, but if a high-sailor found him he meet receive a lashing. With a groan, he continued his unstable trek.

“Hey, Collie. Collie? Collie, are you all right?” The tone went from gentle to frightened in several beats, and Collie felt hands grasp his shoulders.

Collie stepped dead in his tracks and glanced around, finding himself face-to-face with the library doors. Now, the library was on the opposite edge of the ship. How had he ended up there? He looked behind him and, even in his disoriented state, his heart beat faster.

Asher Abrams was one of the Pretty Boys that Collie and his friends so often mocked. He was polite, well bred and unendurably kind. He was not a high-sailor, but he was loved by them, as were the others of his kind. He spent every waking moment in the library, solving mathematic equations and keeping, of all things, a journal of his travels. He had high cheekbones, pale blue eyes, and hair like tangible sunshine.

But what made him different from the others, the arrogant aristocrats who James and the others hated so, was that he was kind.

Now that he’d caught Collie’s attention, he put an arm around his shoulders to stop him from swaying.

“Are you… lost?” He couldn’t bring himself to say ‘drunk’, it seemed.

“I’m o-okay,” Collie said. He hoped his red face and stuttering would both appear to be caused by the alcohol.

Asher stared at him, shaking his head. “No you aren’t. Here, I can help you to your room. Where is it?”

“Four… four B,” Collie muttered, and then collapsed into Asher’s side against his will.

“I’ve got you,” Asher said, rubbing Collie’s shoulder as if to comfort him. “Come on, then.” After spending two years confined with the same one hundred ninety nine people, you grow to know them. Collie had noticed Asher from his first day aboard and, to his immense happiness, grown to know him. Unfortunately, because of their different social circles, not as well as he would have liked.

Midway up the stairs, Collie realized he should have cherished this moment. Here he was, essentially being carried by Asher Abrams. But in his confusion, he felt more nauseous and sleepy than anything else.

“Can I do anything else to help you?” Asher asked, when they’d reached the room. “Will – will your roommates give you trouble?”

Collie shrugged. His roommates were neither wonderful nor horrible; in truth, he barely spoke to most of them. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’d feel badly just leaving you. Here… can’t I?” He gestured towards the doorway.

Collie put a hand against his mouth. He suddenly felt sick, sick and exhausted and unable to have another moment's conversation. “It’s… it’s okay. Good night, Asher.” Before Asher could say anything else, he pulled open the door and threw himself inside. He stood against the door a minute, breathing hard, then stumbled into the bathroom to splash some water on his face. As he stared at his shrunken eyes in the mirror, he hoped he hadn’t offended Asher. Of all things. He would thank him tomorrow, he promised himself.

He dragged his body to bed, wondering if his roommates did hear the conversation, or if they cared. No, probably - hopefully - not. He pulled the limp white sheet over his head and, despite his tiredness, found he could not sleep. Stuffing his face into the threadbare pillow, he felt suddenly desperate to have Asher’s arm around him again.

He was just being nice, he told himself. That’s just who he is.

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*Odette is the name of their little universe. The bell rings everywhere, not just on the ocean. More on that later...

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to know what people think, so please comment if you have the time! Thanks guys!

[VividBubbles!]

Hmmmmm... I'm very... interested in this. It's confusing so far (hoping for backround information to help that) but I'm really looking forward to the next update. I really like your characters so far, even that Connor guy though I have no idea why. I'm wondering what the pairing in this is going to be. I mean, I know Collie seems to like Asher but that doesn't always mean that that will be the pairing. Update soon!

BYE!

[Salamander]

Well, I enjoyed that even without any sneezing. And your footnote answered the question I was going to ask, about the what time period this is set in. I couldn't figure it out, and the names seem too modern for age of sail. I get it now, different universe. Alrighty. This is going to be interesting, and if your writing style remains the same I think it's going to be very hot indeed!

[TheCakeIsAlive]

Very enjoyable to read.

Do I sense some impending romance? Very much looking forward to the next part.

[PaperThings]

Yay! Thank you guys so much for commenting! As promised, I didn't take long with the second part. I can't swear the other updates will be as fast, since it's not all edited yet, but next up is the first fetishy chapter, so at least there's that.

@ Bubbles - I'm so glad you like Connor! I like him too, and he's actually going to play a big role, though not yet. Hopefully this chapter clears things up a bit and if not, let me know what I can do to explain? Blergh, I'm always so bad at drawing the line between what is too exposition-y in a chapter and what doesn't explain enough. Thanks a lot!

@ Salamander - Thanks so much! I'm so glad you like the writing. This story would probably be better if it *were* written in our world as opposed to a made up one, but I just love writing made up worlds so much... I know that's something I have to work on, haha.

@ Sigrith - Yay! Thank you! I'm glad you liked it . There's definitely going to be romance, a lot of it, though probably not very romantic romance and not for a little while... But it'll happen, definitely.

Thank you guys so much! I really hope you like the second part.

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Part Two

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Collie awoke only when one of his roommates, Troy, decided unwisely to open the blinds. Or perhaps wisely after all. Collie’s heart stuttered as he saw the clock; he had only fifteen more minutes to rise and eat breakfast before the day began. He did not think he had any tasks today, though he still could not remember with certainty, but either way it was forbidden to stay in the dorms after eight in the morning.

He tugged on his uniform – white button down shirt, black pants that always felt too snug – and darted down the hall. He paused at the stairwell to grit his teeth, the pain in his head warring with the hunger in his stomach.

“Collie!” Marcus stopped short beside him, smiling.

Collie answered impatiently. “What do you want Marcus? I’m late for breakfast.” On mornings like this, he had little patience for Marcus’ undying optimism.

“Have you seen Jared or Alabaster?” he said, grey eyes shockingly wide behind his girlish lashes. “The Captain wants them.”

“Jared and Alabaster?” Collie scratched his head. He couldn’t think of a less likely pair. Perhaps they were a part of the same social circle, but otherwise they had entirely different identities aboard the ship. “What does he need them for?”

“Well…” Marcus hopped energetically from foot to foot. He was one of the few on the ship who truly liked the Captain and showed incredible loyalty to the man; however, he could never resist the urge to gossip, particularly to a member of ‘Alabaster’s Gang,’ as he called them. James had not been particularly happy about the name.

“Okay. I’ll tell you, but you have to keep in a secret, okay?” He didn’t wait for Collie’s nod. “You’ll never believe it, but he’s found someone aboard the ship.”

“What? What do you mean? Like…”

“A stowaway!” Marcus shout-whispered, his spindly arms flapping about like a monkey’s.

Collie felt his pulse speed up, then slow, Marcus’ words reverberating through the hall. In a strange way, he felt surprised the kid wasn’t more excited. As far as he knew, a stowaway was the most scandalous thing to happen during their voyage. And if he - or she, Collie supposed – had climbed aboard at the beginning of the journey, how had they not noticed him? For two years?

“Well, what does he want Alabaster and Jared for?” he asked, his head too sore to fully process the information. Besides, for all he knew Marcus had been mis-informed.

“I don’t know,” Marcus replied. “Probably to help investigate?”

Collie snorted. “Them? Why would the Captain even bother knowing who they are?” Actually, Alabaster had developed quite a reputation on the Rogan’s Well, simply for his rather singular personality. But there were 199 other men the Captain might have chosen.

“Well, anyway… do you know where they are?” Marcus asked.

“No, sorry, I just got up. You could check the breakfast hall.”

Marcus shook his head. “I already looked there.”

“Well, good luck then.”

“Thanks.”

Collie stayed where he was for a moment, thinking. There was little chance that what Marcus said was true. Probably the Captain made up a story, said something like that just to keep the kid entertained. If anything, maybe Alabaster and Jared were in trouble. For something all of them had done? Collie felt his palms grow clammy.

In spite of everything, the distaste he’d once felt for people like them, Collie had grown to care for those two. At least, he thought he had. There was a certain nostalgia to their nightly routine and, at any rate, Jared was Harley’s brother. And all this time, Harley had been the one friend to stay by Collie’s side.

It was really too late for breakfast anyway, Collie decided. He would search for those two himself.

He decided Marcus would probably check their rooms next, and so he headed up to the fifth floor – second to top on the shiny Rogan’s Well. As he crept along, he remembered a game he and his cousins had played as children, where they climbed all over the exterior and interior of buildings that were meant to be private property. It was one of the few activities that Collie had ever excelled at, because his small body and tentative nature allowed him to be stealthy. He pressed himself against a wall, absolutely silent, and almost let a smile grace his lips.

He heard Marcus without seeing him, the boy’s frantic steps echoing along the plush red carpets.

Marcus knocked frantically on a door. “Mr. Jared! Mr. Jared!” Collie exhaled a short, silent laugh. Mr. Jared. The others would enjoy that nickname very much.

The door squeaked open with surprising haste. “What do you need, Marcus?” Oddly, Jared used more kindness with Marcus than almost anyone Collie knew. Harley treated the boy okay, but the others viewed him as more of a laughable pet than anything else. The Pretty Boys, the stuck ups, mostly hated him for having an in with the Captain. And the high-sailors thought he was a nuisance.

“The Captain – needs – to see you.” The seams of his sentence split with exerted gasps, and a peak down the hall showed Marcus with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “Right away,” he said at last, when he’d recovered. “Also, do you know where I could find Alabaster?”

“Probably in his room,” Jared answered. “One moment, let me finish getting dressed.” His impressive bronze chest was bare.

“Okay,” Marcus answered. “Thanks.” The door closed, and he raised his voice. “Do you need me to wait?”

Collie didn’t hear Jared’s response, but assumed it was a no, as Marcus then ran off. He weighed his options. He could wait for Jared, warn him and tell him he hoped to tag along; but Jared could be funny about the Captain. It was never clear whether or not his respect outweighed his dislike for the man who kept the ship in painful order. He wouldn’t turn Collie in – at least, Collie hoped he wouldn’t – but he might very well tell the younger boy to get lost. Alabaster, probably, would find his joining them a riot; then again, Alabaster was a difficult person to put trust in. If they were in trouble after all, he might very well sign Collie’s death sentence, just because he could.

Without letting himself think twice, Collie bolted up the stairs. He would find a hiding place by the Captain’s corridors before anyone arrived, he decided. Then he could watch and… do what? He didn’t know. Breathing hard, he skirted carefully around the swinging doors of the breakfast hall, not wanting to encounter anyone else he knew. When he reached the round windows of the Captain’s office, he peered through them, trying to glimpse something through the drawn curtains.

To his surprise, there were others inside. Collie counted at least six bodies, and those were only the ones visible from the small space between fabric and glass. He couldn’t identify those inside, but he saw enough of their uniforms to know they weren’t high-sailors. Just Pretty Boys, maybe, or even the lower class sailors like him. What was this? Collie wondered if the Captain had given Marcus the truth after all.

“Collie.”

Collie jumped slightly, his heart rate skidding and crashing uncomfortably in his chest. Asher, of all people, stood in front of him. He flooded with color, embarrassment at what he couldn’t remember from the night before – he knew Asher had helped him to his room, but what exactly had he said? He didn’t trust himself to keep his feelings under lock and key when drunk. He never should have let it happen.

“Is it true, then?”

It was only then that Collie took in Asher’s actual appearance. His clothes were not ironed, for the first time Collie had seen, and the top button of his shirt was unbuttoned. Collie blinked rapidly. Asher’s cheeks were unusually pale, even for him, and Collie realized after a moment that he was not quite steady. There was a tremor in his hands and legs. Collie fought the urge to step forward and thread his fingers through Asher’s.

“Is what true?” Collie asked. He didn’t have the courage to ask anything else, like if Asher was okay.

“That they’ve found… that’s he’s found…” He closed his eyes, his voice breaking. Collie froze, floored by the sound of it. What was happening here? One of the things that made Asher a Pretty Boy was his perfect life. There wasn’t possibly anything that could upset him. Was there? Collie felt all his assumptions tumbling rapidly from their high, secret shelves.

“Found what? Asher?” The name felt funny and revealing on his lips.

“The stowaway.” He opened his eyes and locked his gaze directly on Collie. “I need to know. Did they find…?”

“I – I’m not supposed to know,” Collie said hesitantly, because he wasn’t sure what the correct response was. “I’m here because Marcus said - ”

Asher spun around, kneading at his face with his hands. Collie’s throat tightened in confusion and alarm.

“Asher,” He took a tentative step forward, wondering if he ought to touch Asher after all. Make him stop. “What’s going on?”

Asher took a shaky breath. “He’s… “ He cut off abruptly and grabbed Collie’s wrist, not particularly gentle for once. “Collie, can I trust you?”

“Of – of course.” The words spilled from his lips, too eager.

“Okay.” Asher breathed in again, his voice rickety as the story began to leak out. “Okay, here’s the very short version. Two and a half years ago, my brother was arrested. For… the worst crime.” He took a deep breath, one hand resting on the wall for support. “I didn’t believe it was true… I tried to prove his innocence… but the police decided - ” Asher stopped again and swiped a hand over his eyes. “They were going to hang – to hang him.” He stopped to look at Collie, gage his reaction. Collie was simply staring.

“I was already signed up to go on Rogan’s Well. I had thought, originally, it would be a good opportunity for me. But then… I hadn’t told anyone in town I was going, not even my parents. I knew they would never think to check for him there. They would just think we fled town together. So, I…” He cut off, lips trembling. Even now there was something angelic about his face.

“Your brother’s the stowaway,” Collie said flatly, more because he was shocked than because he needed confirmation. Asher nodded anyway.

“Please, Collie…” His voice shook. “I can’t – I can’t have them find him. Either they’ll throw him off the ship, and the police will catch him, or the Captain will drown him right here.”

Collie, who hadn’t felt very much at all in a long time, could feel his chest swelling, his heart thumping in agony. There was just something about Asher’s pain. “What do you want me to do?” he asked hoarsely. “I don’t think we have much time.”

Asher smiled, a smile so genuine and grateful that Collie almost wanted to cry. “Oh Collie, thank you. I knew you’d understand.”

Understand? Collie could only gape at him. Less than twelve hours ago, he’d wondered how he would handle seeing Asher again, after the night before. How he could go on this way, regardless, feeling so strongly about someone who we knew would never feel the same way back. They hadn’t known each other well. Asher had been the untouchable, unreachable ultimate. And now…. He couldn’t believe his – horrible though it sounded in his head – luck.

“Of course,” he said at last. After all, what did he have to lose? The worse that would happen is the Captain would discover his assistance. But then what? He’d evict him from the ship? At this point, he hardly could have cared less. A part of him had wanted off the ship since the very beginning, right after he realized this mission had been a mistake. Of course, there was a slight chance the Captain would have them drowned… But what did that matter? He knew if he turned away, if he didn’t help Asher, he would regret that more. And Collie was sick of regrets.

“I, er, I know some hiding places. Where’s your brother now?”

“Cellar. He’s been hiding with the produce. I guess… I guess someone saw him. Who had food duty this week?”

“I – I don’t know,” Collie said, racking his brains. “But I bet he’s in the Captain’s office right now, with the rest of them. He’s assembling some group.”

Asher cursed. When Collie looked up in surprise, his cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry.”

Collie couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face. “It’s really fine.” He took a breath. “Alright, well… There’s a laundry room on my floor that no one touches.” He shrugged abashedly. “We aren’t very good about laundry. We wait for the pit stops.” This earned him a slight smile from Asher. “And anyway, there’s a cupboard in there, just in case anyone does come in. We’ll start with him there.”

“Thank you. I don’t know how I’ll ever - ”

“Don’t thank me,” he said, surprising himself. Usually words like that felt fictitious, like even they were too forward. “You do know… now that the Captain knows about him, he’s not going to give up. We’ll have to be careful. We’ll have to keep moving him. At the next pit stop, he’ll have to… Regardless of the chances of him being caught, it will be safer.”

Asher nodded his understanding, but a slight look of panic shadowed his face. “My brother’s been sick. That’s why they caught him. He used to move around very often, stay discreet, but he’s been feverish and less careful.”

“Well. We’ll deal with that. Later. Let’s go.” Collie led the way down to the cellar, which he had only visited once or twice in all his time on board. How funny it was, he puzzled, that Asher had a secret as big as anyone else’s. He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it. In the heat of the rescuing, the hiding, he didn’t think twice about the fact that he would be helping an alleged murderer.

They darted down the side staircase, the greasy, vermin-coated one that lurked between the men’s bathroom and the janitorial closet. It was supposed to only be used by those with chores in the cellar, but they never remembered to lock the doors. The refined, ugly decadence of the ship disappeared, and the two young men raced down the crumbling steps. Collie lost track of his own abilities and stumbled over his feet, taking a theatrical sprawl onto the landing.

“Are you all right?” Asher asked. He had calmed down a bit, the shake in his body almost gone. He extended his hand forward and Collie took it with downcast eyes.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice nearly a whisper. He’d always hated his clumsiness. Once he was upright, he nodded his head. “All right. Let’s get him.”

They burst into the cellar, and the lack of light left them both squinting as they felt their way down the slimy corridors. The smell of rotted fruit hung heavy and pungent in the stale air.

“You know, the Captain will be very harsh for a while after this,” Collie repeated, feeling Asher needed fair warning. “You remember when his badge went missing, don’t you? And that was just a prank. He’ll take this as a real violation of his authority.”

“I know,” Asher said. Did he, though? It had been the lower sailors who received the brunt of the punishment.

Collie’s gut tugged round, and he sought desperately for something to cheer Asher up. It wasn’t his strong suit, it was Harley’s, but he wanted suddenly to be good at it. “Hey, let’s just handle today. All right? The rest we can for tomorrow.”

Asher nodded, his sorrowful grimace replaced with a tiny grin. “Right. Thank you, Collie.” The abundance of thank-you’s was making Collie nearly as embarrassed as he was afraid. But it was a pleasant embarrassment for once.

“Here,” Asher said. Collie peered into the alcove on his left, and saw a pyramid of wooden crates, stacked high. Most were decorated with faded emblems of fruit or vegetables, and he noticed an abundance of boxes marked with a squat, red sphere. Reminded of the abundance of apples they ate in the mess hall, he almost laughed. “Over here.” He climbed adeptly over the top alley of crates, his body every bit as lithe and agile as it looked. Collie followed after, nearly falling several times. He stepped off the mountain with his face warm.

Asher then bent down on his hands and knees and crawled behind the piping unit at the back; Collie winced as a mouse squeaked by his foot. “He steals food from the boxes, when he thinks no one will see. But ever since he’s gotten sick... well, he’s gotten sort of careless, I guess. He hasn’t been able to switch locations or hide from the workers down here.” Asher’s concern was evident, almost like a parent’s.

“Pax,” Asher whispered, his voice harried. “Pax, wake up.” There was a long silence, and with every second Collie could see Asher’s face drain further of color. Then at last there came a moan, and Asher’s entire body swayed with relief. “Pax, we have to move you. They – they know you’re here. If you stay, they’re going to find you.”

There was no response. Asher tugged the boy’s feet and slid him forward, revealing a boy who looked strikingly like him. The only differences were, while Asher was thin in a muscular, well-exercised sort of way, it was clear this boy had been starving for a long while. Pax’s hair was longer too, past his shoulders, and his face was slick in feverish sweat. Collie’s imagination began to work, and he could almost picture them as children. Asher would have been the well-behaved one, a mother’s pet, and Pax would have been the rebel stealing cookies and, as he grew, bottles of alcohol. Inexplicably, a wave of jealousy burned hot on Collie’s heels. How dare they have each other when he’d never had anyone. His eyes caught on Asher again and the moment passed.

“Can you carry him yourself?” Collie asked. Asher nodded, holding his emaciated brother against his chest. “Then let’s run. Even if the Captain talks to them first, it won’t be much longer.”

They scurried up the stairs, Collie feeling almost as if they were in a dream. Questions irked him again. Why hadn’t the Captain just dealt with the stowaway himself, when he’d found out about him? Why order together an entire team? Again, the lack of high-soldiers’ involvement worried him greatly. He shot these wonders down, telling himself they weren’t important; what they really had to worry about was the Captain’s coming wrath.

“Wait! Wait!” he called to Asher, as Asher’s hand locked around the doorknob. “Let me go first. I’ll check for people.”

“Good idea,” Asher said. His voice was unsteady, Pax limp and lifeless against his shoulder.

When the coast was clear, the two boys hurried together to the laundry room. “Here, it’s back here. I’m… I’m sorry it’s no nicer than, well, the cellar.” The alcove was indeed not nice. It was dusty, and the overwhelming heat of it would probably do no favors for Pax’s fever. “I’ll start thinking of alternative spots, for in a few weeks. We shouldn’t leave him in one place for long.”

In his first few months on the ship, Collie and Harley had spent time with a slightly younger group of boys, in addition to their current friends. Those boys had spent many-a-night using the entire ship for hide and seek. Collie rather prided himself on his knowledge of the ship, and thought he was more likely to find a good spot than anyone he knew.

They slid Pax into the spot, and he gave a little stir, but didn’t wake. His head lolled sideways, beads of sweat raining insistently down his temple and his cheeks.

“Is he… okay?” Collie asked nervously.

A muscle jumped in Asher’s jaw. He seemed unable to speak, but shook his head after a moment. “I have no idea,” he said, after a minute.

Collie took a silent breath, catching his courage, and touched a hand to Asher’s shoulder. His own skin prickled at the feeling of Asher’s muscle, lurking right beneath his fingertips. “It’s all right. We can get some medicine for him, maybe. The next coastal stop can’t be far away.”

“Right,” Asher said, but he wouldn’t meet Collie’s eyes.

“Well, I guess I’ll…” Collie shrugged, feeling he ought to give Asher some privacy.

“Collie, wait,” Asher said, just as he reached the door. “Please… I… I have no idea how to ever thank you.” His blue eyes welled up, both embarrassing Collie and accelerating his pulse. “What you did, risking yourself like this, it’s…”

“Anytime,” Collie said, his voice soft. With a crooked smile, he let himself out of the laundry room.

Something important had just happened, he told himself. In reality, the drama of the stowaway would be neither the first scandal nor ‘crisis’ since the departure of Rogan’s Well. But never before had Collie been at the center of a real event, and never before had he found himself so close to Asher. He felt as if he had just changed something, taken a ladle into a soup of plans that wasn’t meant for him. But he couldn’t help it – despite all that could go wrong, all that was already wrong, he felt happier than he had in a very long time.

---

A/N: Third part will be up in not too-too long, I promise. Not sure it'll be tomorrow, but at least before I go back to school. Happy Holidays to all of you!

[Butch]

This. Is. Fabulous. Looking forward to reading more.

[VividBubbles!]

Well, lets see. I could obviously go on forever about how I loved this soooo much and Collie is adorable and that I Asher but, I can't. There are Christmas presents upstairs for me just begging to be opened and fawned over. I wish you Happy Holidays!

BYE!

[TheCakeIsAlive]

Ooh... the plots thickens. For some reason I'd assumed the stowaway was a woman. Can't wait to see what happens next.

[PaperThings]

Third chapter! And this part finally has some sneezes in it, and also, you get to fully meet the stowaway.

@ Mims - Thank you so much!!

@ Bubbles! - Yay! I'm so, so glad you like them as characters! Haha, I hope you had a great Christmas too .

@ Sigrith - Haha, well, I think it actually was when I first outlined the story, but I thought it might be fun to try writing a story that had almost all male characters.

Thanks so much for commenting, guys!

---

Part 3

---

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Collie was thankful he didn’t have chores to do, because he knew he wouldn’t have been able to concentrate if he had.

Asher didn’t show up to dinner, and Collie continued to look for him everywhere as he ate. His wandering eyes were so noticeable that Harley eventually pulled him aside and asked him if he was all right.

“Fine,” Collie said, trying not to snap at Harley. “I’m fine. I didn’t get much sleep.”

“Maybe you should skip tonight,” Harley said. “You need to be rested for tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?” Collie asked.

“Did you forget? You and I asked to go on the fishing excursion…” Harley’s smile was like a little kid’s, and so happy it was catching. But this time, Collie couldn’t get on board.

He swore, his fingers curling into fists. “Do you think I can get out of it?”

“Get out of it…? Collie, what’s wrong with you?” Harley was a head or two taller than Collie, and when he spread his arms out for emphasis, he looked almost as large as his brother.

“Nothing,” Collie said. “Nothing, Harley. I’m fine.”

“No you aren’t,” Harley said, sighing. But he let it drop, his crest-fallen expression recovering with speed. “Hey, have you seen Jared? He hasn’t been around all day.”

“Uh, no,” Collie said hastily, starting to edge towards the doors. “No, I haven’t.” Would Jared and Alabaster share the news with them? Would they want to catch the stowaway, or want instead to spite the Captain? Collie debated quickly the idea of telling them what he knew, but decided it was in no way an option.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Harley called after him, as Collie waved goodbye. “Don’t forget to bring your jacket. You were cold last time.” Collie ignored him, feeling guilty about it and promising he’d be a better friend some other time. He paused by the pastry table and nicked a scone, deciding he would bring it to the laundry room.

When Pax woke up, he would probably be hungry. It wasn't anything to do with Asher, of course. Nothing to do with how he wanted Asher to see him as kind and thoughtful. Nothing at all.

He walked quickly to his own floor, strangely glad that Asher’s brother was to be kept temporarily in a room so near to his dorm. Just in case there was a problem…

“Oh, Collie.” Connor Stallion smiled with infuriating charm. “Good…” He raised his wrist to look at his watch. “…evening, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” Collie said shortly and started to push on past. He knew it was all a game to Connor, just a stupid game he would always win, but to Collie it mattered more than that. The one good thing about Rogan’s Well was that he’d thought he was leaving that part of his life behind. “Excuse me.”

“So are you heading up to the Captain’s office?”

Collie stopped mid-step, flustered. “Huh?”

Connor feigned ignorance and Collie scowled, suddenly sure that Connor had been spying on him. “The signs? I'm sorry, I assumed that’s why you were up here.”

“What signs?” Collie asked. And Connor shifted out of the way, revealing the starch white poster taped to Collie’s door.

All sailors must schedule an appointment with the Captain for questioning before this Friday, 6:00 P.M. It was signed Sir Rogan Hallwell.

Collie gulped. “These – these are everywhere?”

“Yes,” Connor said, moving to stand beside him. “On all the doors. I saw boys putting them up about an hour ago.”

“Who?” Collie demanded. “Which boys?”

Connor shrugged. “I didn’t know who they were.” Not Alabaster or Jared, then. Connor knew them, from all the time he’d spent shadowing Collie, mocking him, making his life a darker hell than it would have been anyhow.

“Oh,” Collie said. Well, maybe the fishing trip would be cancelled, at the very least.

“So, any theories?” Connor asked, cheerful. Too cheerful.

“I have to go,” Collie said, and cut in front of Connor.

He walked as calmly as he could to the stairwell and slammed the door behind him, hiding there until he counted to sixty in his head. He opened the door a crack and, sure enough, Connor was gone.

Had it been only a few hours ago that such an obstacle intercepted his life? It felt like longer ago. At the very least, it felt like yesterday.

When Collie was sure there was nobody else in the hall, he opened the door to the laundry room and slid on inside, taking deep breaths as he did. The room had a peculiar smell to it, one which Collie had never noticed before. He wondered if it was simply the smell of an unused room, or if Pax had infected it with the scent of the sick.

As his eyes travelled to Pax’s frail body, which was exactly where they’d left him, he hoped it was the former. To his great disappointment, Asher was there. However, the thick quilt over Pax's shoulders suggested that he already had been.

Collie stood in the doorway a moment, his eyes scrutinizing Pax. For something that was missing. He was a bit grimy, true, and obviously ill, but there was nothing evil about him. Was Asher right, was he innocent? Collie wanted him to be, though he couldn’t say why. Who had they accused him of murdering, anyway?

He would just leave the scone on the washing machine, he decided, and then leave. There was no reason to linger.

But as he was walking to the door, he stumbled, one foot tripping on the other, and Pax’s eyes snapped open as if Collie had shaken him. He looked panicked for half a second and then, if possible, slightly annoyed. The sight of Pax’s eyes – bright green, icy, nothing like his brother’s – caught Collie off guard, and he staggered backward, bumping into the door. It really was a tiny room, barely space enough for one person, let alone two.

“Um,” Collie said. “Um…” Say something else, he reprimanded himself. “I’m Collie.” Pax was glaring at him with an intensity that was both surprising and frightening, and Collie was glad that, if it came to it, he’d be the stronger of the two. Probably. As his arm wrestling with the boys dictated, that wasn’t necessarily a given, even against an invalid.

“My savior,” Pax said sharply. He did not even sound sarcastic, only angry, as if Collie had done something unspeakably unkind. Of course, his words meant that Asher had mentioned Collie to him. What had Asher said?

“I… I, um, yeah, I helped your brother, to get you out of the, uh…” His gaze flicked towards the floor, ashamed for reasons he didn’t understand. “Has your brother been to see you?”

“What do you think?” But this time when Pax cut his eyes at Collie, there was an air of near-familiarity to it, like they were in on the same joke. But Collie could still see the anger there. “Pretty Boy Asher?” Collie half-choked at the use of his group’s nickname, wondering if Pax had somehow, through miracles and nightmares, overheard them. Unlikely. “Of course,” Pax breathed, and he wasn’t talking to Collie anymore. “Of course he did.”

“Right. Well… Are you okay?” He bit the inside of his cheek at his stupidity. He had never felt more like the shy, awkward boy that he was underneath the masquerade of his group’s friendship. Pax did not respond. He repositioned himself slightly and shut his eyes, like it required a great effort to keep them open.

Let him rest, a voice murmured in Collie’s head. But he couldn’t. With Alabaster and James, it was all playing, all sarcasm and late nights and stupid answers to stupid questions. It was all fake, all a little show for the ship herself. And Collie had spent so much time with those boys that the sudden shift left him unexpectedly tied up. He didn’t want to leave.

“We’re docking again, not too long from now,” Collie said. He was painfully aware of how young his voice sounded when he didn’t make an effort to alter it. “We can try to get you medicine.” Nothing. No response. He stared at Pax’s expressionless face, wondering if he had drifted off after all. His eyes were about to flick away when Pax’s right nostril twitched, just a little. Was he not asleep, then?

“We – “ Collie’s voice clotted as Pax crumpled violently against the floor, his body hunched in a neat ball.

Collie froze, his eyes wide with confusion and concern, when in the next second Pax’s spine rattled. “Huhhh’NXXTT--ppTTT - SHUH! ​ HEHppSHHAA! EHHSHUHH!” Pax’s body shook and shook until the moment he was done, whereupon he collapsed into a rumpled heap of clothing, his face hidden against an arm. There was not a second’s pause for breath between the sneezes, and each erupted with a strangled, furious, volume, despite Pax's clear effort to control it.

Collie had never heard someone sneeze so angrily. He swallowed. “Um. Um, bless – “

Pax sat up and kicked the side of the wall, cutting him off. There was near silence as Pax attempted to compose himself, except that when Collie listened more closely he could hear the wheezing in Pax’s chest. “What the two of you did,” Pax said, after a moment, his voice stony and surprising in the quiet, “was incredibly stupid.” His eyes burned right through Collie, who fought the urge to run right out of the room. “Asher might be older than I am, but I’ve always been the one who protected him, and the way he’s running things, he’s going to get us both killed.”

“He didn’t have a choice,” Collie spluttered, suddenly defensive. “They would have found you, they would have – “

“I don’t care what they – “ This time he didn’t have time to curl up. One moment he was speaking and the next his face was twitching into a fist, his eyes pinched tight together and his lips peeling open despite his best efforts. “FFWW-SHHUH! Uhh-TSHHUH!” The struggle played out on his face a moment, his nostrils flapping with more energy than he had to spend, and he cupped his frail hands over his nose. Like Asher’s nose, Collie noted. “HuhhppSHUH! EHHppSHUHH!”

Collie stared at the way his long hair fell forward with each one, covering his face like a shield. When he was done, he wiped his nose savagely with his wrist, sniffling against a finger.

“I think I have…” Collie patted his pants pocket for his handkerchief.

Another glare. “I’m fine,” Pax snapped. Collie was reminded of his earlier words to Harley and he nodded slowly, letting his hands drop.

There was too much quiet then, and Collie almost missed the sound of the sneezes.

“Listen,” he started, and, once again, Pax interrupted him.

“I know it wasn’t your idea,” he said grudgingly, leaning back against the dryer. “You didn’t even know about me, did you?” Collie shook his head. “Asher asked you because he has these ideas about family, about saving me… Will you help me?”

“Huh?”

Pax met his eyes and Collie, in spite of himself, was moved by their soupy, feverish composition. “Help me,” Pax said softly, one finger licking against his glowing nose, “convince him that he should let me… die.”

---

A/N: Yay! Hope this one's okay, guys. I edited it a bit more quickly than the other two. Anyway, it shouldn't be too much longer before the fourth part is up, though I have a bit more work to do on it than I had to do on these. Thank you so much for reading! Comments make me extremely happy .

[VividBubbles!]

No. Oh no. No no no no no no no. You are evil. Very evil. And mean. Cliffhangers are horrible demons that should never ever ever be used! EVER! It causes waaaaaayyy to much stress for the reader. UGH! You're an evil lady! Do. Not. Let. Pax. Die. Also, you should make Connor sick too, just 'cuz I love him so much that I think he needs to be take care of by Collie as well. I'm evil.

BYE!

P.S. Wow, I just reread this and it really makes me look crazy. Eh, oh well!

BYE! Again.

[Emily]

merry christmas to me indeed for picking up this one 8D i sure hope Collie catches whatever Pax has before he helps him accomplish his, uh, task.

[Dusty15]

This is really intriguing! I love your writing style and the depth of this universe you've created! I can't wait to read more

[obsessed]

so intrigued.

<3

[PaperThings]

@ Bubbles! - Heehee . I have to say I do love writing those cliffhangers. They're just lots of fun . There will definitely be a few more people getting sick before this story's over (I've just realized that I always seem to do that, write a story and then systematically go through and make all of the characters sick one by one), but not just yet...

@ Emily - Haha it may take a little while, but I DO eventually want to make him sick. Probably. It may take a (long) while, but it'll happen...

@ Dusty15 - Thank you so much! I'm so glad you're liking it so far

@ Obsessed - Thank you <3. For once I feel like I actually have things happening to my characters and they're not just, like, traveling or sitting for the entire thing .

Sorry again that there aren't all *that* many sneezes in this chapter, guys. I'm having a tiny bit more trouble adapting it to fetishiness than I thought, but oh well. I really hope you guys enjoy it anyway! And thank you so, so much for commenting, you all are the best .

---

Part Four

---

In the end the fishing trip was not cancelled, despite what Collie had hoped, and he was forced to rise early the next morning and depart without having seen Asher first.

He toyed with the idea of leaving a note on Asher’s bed, but there was always the chance that a Pretty Boy roommate – whatever anyone said, they’d been put in dorms based on financial status – would find it, and that would ruin everything. Even if he said nothing about Pax in the note, the idea of the lowly Collie Michaels sending letters to the princely Asher Abrams would be the new joke aboard Rogan's Well. The current one, as a matter of fact, was the memory of Alabaster streaking through the hallway in the middle of the night, only a little bit drunk at the time.

Instead, Collie had the bright idea to leave the note with Pax. He felt a little strange about delivering it at five a.m., especially after the rather odd way they’d left things yesterday, but decided it was too crucial to delay. They needed to make sure their stories matched when they spoke to the Captain. Either that, or he wanted an excuse to send Asher a letter.

His heart felt too light as he sealed the envelope. He had, in a rather roundabout and terrible way, what he had always wanted. And as if that weren't enough, he got to deceive the Captain in the process. In a single, unexpected step, everything had gone from gloomy to golden; Collie wanted to know how it had happened, so he might repeat it again some time, but he felt he'd somehow missed the moment of transition.

He paused just outside the laundry door, wincing. If you stood anywhere near the laundry room, you could hear Pax through the door. There were more than a few people who wandered the corridors at night, both for pleasure and business, and it was entirely possible someone had heard him. Of course, they might simply assume a sick boy was doing his laundry – at five in the morning - and leave him alone, but…

He slid through the door as quickly as he could and stood against the door, his palms slick with sudden shyness. A part of him wanted to snap at Pax – ask him to please keep it down because he was going to jeopardize everything and even if that was his plan it would destroy Asher – when he saw their stowaway curled up under the blanket, his body furiously working, trying and failing to muffle the storm.

For a moment he simply stared, half-paralyzed.

Pax sat, simultaneously still and un-still, and breathed in, in, in, his entire face a scrambling mess. He pinched his nose, as Collie could remember Asher doing, but it was no use, and he doubled over, his shoulders quivering double time. The sneezes came strangled and sharp as he stoppered them with his hands, each winding his body further into exhaustion. After a handful of these –Collie counted somewhere between four and six, but it was hard to tell from the way Pax hid himself in the quilt – he let go of his face, looking agonized, and let them out. Even muffled by the blanket they were loud – loud and so terribly full of rage. And, somehow, defeat. Just like the day before. But rather than shuddering this time, wanting to run away, Collie wondered how many times this cycle had repeated during the night. He counted to five - five floor-rocking, Pax-shaking sneezes that is - and then dropped down beside the tow-headed invalid.

“Are you okay?” he said, genuinely worried. When Pax did nothing more than shoot him a near-frantic glance, Collie fished his handkerchief from his pants, where he'd remembered to put it this morning. “Here, take this.” And, because he decided it was serious enough that he needed to just get over himself, he put a hand on Pax’s shoulder. And Pax steadied. Almost instantly.

Could he have done the same for Asher, or would he have been too afraid? He didn’t like to think about the answer.

Pax clutched the handkerchief over his streaming nose, his face still frozen, and blinked a series of watery, expectant blinks. Without even a breath of warning, his chin touched down to his chest and his body rocked forward, freeing the last two. “EHHPPSHUH! HEHHSHUHH!” They seemed the most monstrous yet, ripping whatever was left of him, and he deflated against the floor the moment they set him free. His shoulder blades heaved up and down as his breath slowed, unsuccessfully trying to smooth the rough parts, and Collie swallowed the desire to paint words of comfort along the spine. He'd always wanted someone to do that for him, he thought. He'd always wanted to be brave enough to do that for someone else.

They said nothing for a while. The scent of quiet wafted under the doorway, isolating them from the rest of the ship. Shoving Collie closer to Pax than he'd ever been shoved to anyone. Pax sat up, huddling into his too-pale skin but not fleeing from Collie, not like he had yesterday. Well, it was a little late for running away. His eyes were tightly shut, protecting what was left of himself, but there was one instant where he opened them and Collie saw through. He would look at Pax differently now. He would be less afraid and, maybe, would never be able to make sense of the murderous boy who was Asher's brother who had been, for just a split second, at his weakest. But maybe that wasn't so bad.

“Did anyone hear me?” Pax asked, his voice a whisper. He peeled open his spring-colored eyes again, cringing. His face was a bright, unhealthy red, but that could have just been the exertion. Or the fever.

“No, I don’t think so,” Collie answered, matching the quiet, cottony tone. “Not many people are on this floor so late." That was a lie. "But…maybe we can find you somewhere else.”

“Did you think about what I said earlier?” Pax asked.

“You can’t ask me to do something like that,” Collie said, after a handful of beats. He exhaled. He'd been afraid of telling Pax that, and now it was told.

“It would be easier if he let me go now,” Pax said. “He’s going to have to eventually.”

“What did you do, anyway?” Collie asked, because he wanted to know, and this moment of openness between them seemed the time. Still, the sound of his brusque voice made him hate himself.

“Are you asking if I killed him?” Pax asked, his voice carefully measured except for an slight, underlying shake that might not have been there after all.

“Killed who?” Collie asked. “Asher didn’t say.” He rubbed his cheeks to stop them from flaming. Stupid fair skin. Stupid body that has a reaction to his Asher Abrams' fucking name.

“There was a girl who lived next door to Asher and I, named Charlotte. One day I was found sitting by her father’s body, the gun that shot him in my hand.” His face was devoid of any emotion.

Collie waited what he thought was an appropriate amount of time before asking. “So – so you did it?”

“I would have.”

“But… but, you mean, you didn’t actually?”

“Does it make a difference?” Pax looked at Collie, his eyes sharp underneath the residue from the earlier fit.

“I guess… I guess not,” Collie said slowly. He wanted to give the right answer, but he wasn’t sure what that was. Or what he thought.

“It doesn’t to my brother,” Pax said. “To him…” He was overcome by a bout of coughing so severe that by the time he’d finished – leaving Collie anxious and wide-eyed – his congestion was almost cleared. He sighed. “… To him I’m always innocent, regardless of whether I did it. See how that works?”

Collie was about to say no, no he didn’t, but then he thought about it, and yes, he could see it. That was just Asher. People were one thing or another. “Yeah.”

Pax nodded. “The truth is though, it doesn’t matter. I can’t live like this forever, and there’s no way to clear my name. If he doesn’t let me go, then we’ll just… it’ll be…” His impending loss of control was clear form the moment his perfect, stony diction slipped, and Collie reached up to put the slipped handkerchief in his lap. “Th-thank… thank…” His body was clawing too hard through his composure by then and he was already inhaling wildly, the handkerchief over his face and his free arm wrapped tight around the handkerchief.

There was an unexpected leap in Collie’s chest. Watching as he curled into his knees, Collie tried to pin a name on the sudden happiness. What was it? Pax needing help? Pax needing his help? Pax being kind about it? Pax was letting himself go in front of Collie, and... Collie had to miss it.

“Pax,” he said and put a hand on Pax’s shoulder, feeling the too-hot skin that lurked just beneath the baggy shirt. Asher's shirt, he realized. “I - I actually came here to bring you this. Because I'm leaving for the day.” He put the letter beside the quilt.

Pax’s head jerked sharply to the left. “HuhhSHAA! HUHPSHHA!”

Not only did he want to stay, but leaving made him nervous. What if Pax collapsed with exhaustion and there was no one here to help? "Feel... feel better, okay? And give this to Asher. Please." He felt his breath catch in his throat. He sat still one second, watching the pained-but-poetic repetition of the way Pax's back muscles worked through the fit. And then he did what he'd wanted to do before and put his hand on Pax's breath, drawing one, single circle. "Bye Pax."

With that, he snuck out, leaving Pax a helpless puddle in the blanket. And as he went to join the others on the exhibition, his heart was equal measures pain and, though he tried to stamp it out, free-wheeling delight.

“This isn’t morning,” Harley said, his hair tousled and his eyes bleary. “This is the middle of the night. Col-lie….” He threw himself against Collie’s chest, his head resting against the warmth of Collie’s shoulder. “Can you carry me, Collie?” It was particularly funny, because Harley was so much taller that he had to work to fit in Collie’s arms.

Collie laughed softly against his hair. Sometimes he wondered why he didn’t feel the way about Harley that he felt about Asher. Or, more to the point, why affection for Harley never made him blink. It would be so much easier if it were Harley instead. Harley already cared about him and there was always the slim, slight chance that the feelings would even be reciprocated. Not like with Asher. The truth was, though, Collie simply had never thought about it like that. Harley was his best friend. Harley brought out sides of him that nobody else did, the fun and happy sides. But that was the extent of it.

The other three in their party hovered by the porthole door, waiting. There were three regular sailors – two Pretty Boys and one other like them – and then one high-sailor, who was preparing the boat.

Harley adored these trips, claiming they felt like vacations. Collie had always signed up for his sake, but felt that they instead made him more grateful for Rogan’s Well. With the little fishing boat as comparison, their great ship felt more and more luxurious.

The high-sailor – an arrogant but not entirely unpleasant man named Rafael – instructed them to strap on their gear and head to the door, where the smaller boat was waiting. The ink-spill sky was impossible to see through, and Collie shivered, anticipating the wind and the splash of cold water on his skin.

Harley grumbled at him. “You didn’t bring a jacket.”

“Don’t have one,” Collie said, gritting his teeth.

The high-sailor ushered them out to the boat, whereupon they sat, all equally uncomfortable regardless of status on the ship.

Well, not equally uncomfortable. The Pretty Boys both wore large, expensive jackets, waterproof and lined in the warmest material around. They were probably pretty cozy.

“So, what are you two doing this for?” Evan Williams asked. He’d always sort of wanted to join Alabaster’s group, but the red-haired ex-pirate believed he was a bore.

“For fun,” Harley said, and he smiled his trademark smile. “You?”

Evan scoffed. “I was caught smoking in the dorm,” he said, lowering his voice so the high-sailor wouldn’t hear. The Pretty Boys did and exchanged a look. “You said you’re doing this for fun?” He laughed, but it was a kind laugh, because nobody dared mock Harley Delantis. Collie did not think that rule applied to him, however.

“I like the water,” Harley said, in spite of the fact that he had tunneled into his jacket, his teeth chattering against the collar.

“Any volunteers to fish first?” the high-sailor asked.

“Us! We volunteer!” Harley called out, winking at Collie. When you fished you sat at the very front of the boat, prime position to speak in secrecy.

“You’ll never believe it,” Harley said, the second they settled in. “Last night wasn’t actually such a great one for you to skip.”

“Why’s that?” Collie’s heart fluttered. Harley wasn’t exactly subtle, and Collie could smell the excitement on him, rousing from its five-in-the-morning stupor. He knew. Jared and Alabaster had shared.

“The Captain’s gone off the deep end,” Harley announced and Collie looked behind him, paranoid. “He’s recruited Jared and Alabaster, and a couple of other guys, to make up a Stowaway and scare the shit out of all of us.” Harley laughed, truly enjoying this. “He wants us to think that there’s some killer loose on the boat so we’ll be so scared that we do our jobs better and obey him. Because we have to work together to catch him, or whatever.”

Collie forced out a laugh, wondering how the story had possibly gotten so jumbled. His mind palmed through this. The Captain hadn't just made it up, though. The Captain knew. So why had he lied? What was the point of lying to a small group, since the rest of the ship was to think of a real Stowaway anyhow? The only answer Collie could think of, and it seemed probable, was that the Captain knew the real-but-fake story would get out. And that's why he'd chosen boys like Alabaster and Jared. He wanted there to be rumors that the Stowaway was not real after all. But... why? They'd be less likely to catch him. Collie felt his head spin. “He made up a Stowaway? That’s what he said to them?”

“Uh-huh, he told them it’s fake,” Harley said. “And that they’re among the trusted few who get to help him bring us together, blah blah blah.”

“Yeah,” Collie said, trying to sound casual. “I – I actually ran into Marcus, yesterday, and he mentioned something like it… he made it sound real, though.” He wanted to tell Harley right then, because he knew he could trust him, and because he desperately wanted a second opinion on his theory, but he knew had to talk to Asher first.

Harley shrugged. “Well of course Marcus doesn’t know. Who would trust Marcus?” He adjusted his fishing pole. Collie nearly laughed; it was obvious he had a fish on the hook and just didn’t much feel like pulling it in. “Hey, why didn’t you mention anything? If Marcus told you?” He sounded a little hurt. “Was it because you were mad at me?”

“What?” Collie asked. He’d almost forgotten about how annoyed he was at Harley the day before. “Oh, no, of course not. I just forgot about it. Figured he’d made up some story.”

Harley snickered. “Like the Captain.”

“So… what do you think they’re going to make us do? I saw those signs.”

“Well, that’s just it!” Harley said. “Apparently, when we go in for questioning, he’s going to ask us to request new roommates. And then… do something with that, I’m not sure. Make us form search parties by floor, I guess. But we want to be roomies, right? I figure it’d be you, me and James, and my brother. Alabaster wants to request high-sailors he said, as a joke.”

“Yeah, sure,” Collie said, but his heart was racing. What if he and Asher were roommates? They could hide Pax in their room and it would be so much easier. And, of course, he and Asher would be roommates. There was also that. Of course, though, they’d need to get two other people they trusted. Harley, maybe. But would he agree to leave the other three out of it? And who was second person to tell?

On the spot, Collie realized that he absolutely did not trust his other friends. They were all right, maybe, but not for this. Would Asher have close, dependable friends whom he wouldn’t mind telling? Part of Collie hoped yes, and another very jealous part hoped no. But there was no use thinking about it now, without Asher to consult, and so Collie let Harley babble on about it and laughed at some of the right moments, letting the others pass.

They were forced to stay in front for two hours. That was how it worked – two hours per pair and then, if enough fish had been caught, they went back to Rogan’s Well. If not, they continued until dusk. Just as Collie reeled in his first fish, sighing in relief that the waters weren’t completely barren today, there came a rumbling underneath the boat.

“What is that?” Harley muttered.

“I don’t know” were the words on Collie’s lips when the boat flew out from under him.

He was, at first, confused. What was the loud noise? Why was the boat in several large pieces?

Then the rumbling was in his ears and all around him and, as he sailed forward, his body and then his head making contact with the cold water, he saw the giant cannon.

A/N: Sorry, I know this chapter is epically long. But better long than short, I suppose. Right? Well, I really hope you like it! And I'd love comments! Sorry if the style in this chapter is a bit weird, also, I just finished reading a rather uniquely-written book and I think in editing I unintentionally mimicked that a bit. Hopefully, hopefully, I'll be able to update again soon, though I'm debating whether it'd be better to instead update one of my many other not-updated stories. Thank you so much for reading!

[VividBubbles!]

Then the rumbling was in his ears and all around him and, as he sailed forward, his body and then his head making contact with the cold water, he saw the giant cannon.

And... another cliffhanger. Meanie.

@ Bubbles! - Heehee . I have to say I do love writing those cliffhangers. They're just lots of fun . There will definitely be a few more people getting sick before this story's over (I've just realized that I always seem to do that, write a story and then systematically go through and make all of the characters sick one by one), but not just yet...

Woo hoo! More sick charcters! Yay! I hope one of them is Connor! Oh, and Collie too.

Hopefully, hopefully, I'll be able to update again soon, though I'm debating whether it'd be better to instead update one of my many other not-updated stories. Thank you so much for reading!

Update this one! Update this one! Please?! I'll give you a cookie!

BYE!

P.S. The cookie is not guaranteed.

BYE! Again.

[Scion]

Ohhhhh, I just love your writing. Also, "tangible sunshine." That is the MOST beautiful description of hair I've ever read. I love your mind. Seriously, wanna trade? And your dialogue is just...flawless.

[TheCakeIsAlive]

Large.... cannon?

Your cliffhangers are most delightfully cliffy.

[obsessed]

dun dun dun dun dun dun......!!

[Emily]

awww geez. this is unfair. I swear, if we're left hanging for another month I'll have to live on delusions of what happens next. okay maybe not, but I'm still hanging off the edge here. I can't wait to see how you attack Collie how you help Pax get better.

[PaperThings]

@ Bubbles! - You may just get your wish about who gets sick . Buuut no promises . See, I'm updating and everything! Do I get a cookie?

@ Scion - Thank you, thank you, thank you <3. You are seriously the sweetest. And YES I'd love to trade minds, because your writing is absolutely lovely too.

@ Sigrith - Haha, well, I do love reading them, so I figured, hey, it might be fun to try writing them too. They're annoying but oh-so-fun too!

@ obsessed - Yay! I love mysterious music.

@ Emily - See, it wasn't another month at all! I'm actually doing quite well in terms of updating, considering my usual terrible track record. But I start school again tomorrow, so chances are I'll get derailed... bleh.

Thank you so much for your comments, guys! Seriously, reading what you have to say makes writing the next part so much more fun.

---

Part 5

---

The first thing Collie observed, besides the stark white ceiling, was that he hurt. All over. The severity of the ache was enough to make him gasp and wish fiercely to fall back asleep.

“Oh thank God! You’re awake!”

Collie blinked. He was in the infirmary section of the ship, where he’d been only twice before, for chores. It was not very different from the rest of the ship, except that it was cleaner, painted in white rather than pale beige, and had several curtained compartments for beds. But you could still feel the rock of the boat beneath you, gentle enough that you forgot about it if you weren’t thinking.

Before he had a chance to settle his confused mind, he was caught around his aching shoulders by a pair of arms, the hug too tight for someone so bruised. Harley.

“We were so worried, Col,” Harley said. “It seemed like… like you weren’t going to be okay.”

He had almost died, is what Harley meant. The idea made his stomach turn, if only because, despite the misery, death had never seemed like something he needed to fear. At least, not for himself.

Harley sat up a moment, took one look at Collie’s face, and then went back to hugging him. It was obvious he’d been crying. “I can’t believe it, Col,” he said, his voice thick and unusually subdued.

“What… what happened?” Collie asked, tousling Harley’s hair with a limpid hand. In moments of extreme crisis, Harley’s unhesitant affection was an incredible comfort. No one else treated Collie quite like that.

“We were shot at,” Harley said. “I was thrown back when the boat broke, so I swam to the door and got help. But the rest of you…” He shook his head, blinking fast. “Your hook caught onto the other boat, I’m pretty sure. You got swung around a bit, and then you fell into the water, right against the boat. That’s why you’re so banged up. And this…” He touched his own forehead. Collie’s mouth formed an ‘o’ of surprise as he touched his own head. Sure enough, there was a bandage around it. Well, great. At least that explained the splitting headache.

“Wait, there was another boat?” That did explain it.

“I’m getting to that,” Harley said. “But… anyway… Rafael, he died trying to get to you, Col. It looked like you were going to get shoved underneath the one with the gun.”

Collie felt a pain in his chest. “But… I had a life preserver…” The life preserver was supposed to stop him from going underwater. High-sailors were supposed to be cruel, narcissistic types, too eager to punish the lowly sailors who had no rights themselves. He felt weirdly choked up, though he couldn’t explain it. It had been a long time since he’d cried, not since before his father’s death.

“I know,” Harley said, squeezing his arm. “Yeah.” They were sitting side by side now, and Collie looked away.

“What about the others?” Collie asked, because he knew Harley wouldn’t tell him otherwise.

There was a long pause. Rarely had Collie seen Harley so reluctant to speak. “Evan’s dead. So’s one of the other guys, Norman. But um, Wallace – the blonde one – is mostly okay. He – he lost his leg, though.”

“Fuck,” Collie muttered, trying to control his breathing. He couldn’t believe it. “And you’re okay?” He met Harley’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Harley said, and he looked the way Collie felt inside. How had this happened? “Yeah, I’m perfectly fine. Barely a scratch.” He shook his head, like he wanted to say something else but was going to keep it to himself, instead. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Collie.” His lower lip trembled and when he blinked, a tear raced down his cheek.

Collie was shaken. No one on the ship had died before. No one. Why did they have to be the last ones to see the only people who did? Evan Williams, who was there as a punishment. Who knew why Norman and Wallace had been there? Collie had never thought to do anything but hate them. Same went for Rafael.

Quiet swept around them, Harley crying silently into his hands and Collie thinking, thinking and trying not to think all at once.

“Harley,” Collie said, and Harley leaned against his arm, “the other boat?”

Sniffing, Harley answered. “They wouldn’t tell us anything yet. But when the Captain came down here to check on Wallace and me, he said we shouldn’t tell anyone else yet, because he doesn’t want us to worry them. What bullshit.” He snorted. “But once you’re better, the three of us are supposed to go see him, together.”

Collie made a scathing noise. The truth was, it was all going a little fast too process.

“What else?” Collie asked. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Close to three days,” Harley said. “Oh, the questioning has been postponed. Maybe the Captain realized he shouldn’t play games when there’s real shit going on.”

Collie had never heard Harley curse so much, or seen him so angry. Of course Harley had a darker, angrier side – everyone did, after all – but it came as a shock to see it.

“If it’s okay, man,” Harley said, standing up, “I’m going to get the others. They want to see you.”

“O-okay,” Collie said. Harley meant Alabaster and those guys, he knew, but he thought instantly of Asher. Was Pax okay?

“I’ll be back soon,” Harley said, squeezing his shoulder. “Oh, and there’s someone else to see you.” For a second, he smiled. “That guy.”

“What guy?”

Harley ducked out the door and, seconds later, Asher’s face appeared. Looking distraught.

“Collie!”

Collie’s breath caught in his throat and he started coughing, which made his head hurt. Since when did was this a world where Collie Michaels got where he wanted? He could hardly stop a grin from spreading over his face.

“Oh thank God,” Asher said, and he hurried all the way to Collie’s bedside before pausing, suddenly awkward. “We were really worried,” he said. We? It took Collie a second to realize that Asher meant himself and Pax; sweat broke out along his forehead, though he didn’t understand why.

“Pax gave me your letter, and it all sounds right to me…” His handsome, blonde brow furrowed, looking thoughtful.

“There’s no reason he has to connect you with the stowaway, at least. And unless he has a good idea of my brother’s identity, he couldn’t possibly connect it to me. The only thing that worries me is my file… what if he sees it and… well, it’s a long shot, but what if he makes the connection?” His panicked expression flitted off his face, replaced by a guilty one.

“I’m so sorry, Collie,” he said. “You just woke up. I don’t mean to burden you with this.”

“It’s okay,” Collie said, though his head was spinning. “It… it’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out.” He thought of Alabaster’s uncanny ability to break into locked rooms, and wondered if he’d be a good person to have on their side after all. He could destroy the file. But could they trust him?

“Yeah, well, anyway… right now you’re more important.” He smiled a little smile, the way you were supposed to smile at someone in a hospital bed, and sat gingerly by Collie’s side.

Collie stared at him, too suck on you’re more important to care how close they were, or to care about the fact that it seemed their friendship now went beyond worrying about Pax. He sucked in a breath.

“It’s – it’s a lot to go through,” Asher said gently, his expression falling. “Those boys… I can’t believe they’re dead.” Collie could see the real pain in his eyes, and his heart contracted.

“Were they friends of yours?” Collie asked. A part of him wished Asher hadn’t brought them up. It was so much easier not to think about them, think about how some of them were dead. Dead when Collie had hated him yesterday. And Evan, who wouldn’t be dead if he hadn’t been punished for smoking in his room, punished because they were treated like little boys, not allowed any freedom. And the high-sailor… Collie had always hated high-sailors. Yet one had saved his life.

His thoughts must have registered on his face because Asher reached out and, as if he didn’t have to think twice about it, took Collie’s hand. Collie thought he might have a stroke, if he didn’t start weeping first. Either way, it was far too much to take. He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing; of mundane, lifeless things.

“My best friend… Harley… he’s okay.” He didn’t know why, but these words felt somehow necessary.

“You’re very lucky.” Asher sounded so glad about it, and he was smiling so brightly, that Collie couldn’t do much but smile back – smile and not think about Asher’s warm, perfect fingers wrapped around his.

“Do you know… do you know if they caught the other boat?” he asked Asher.

“No,” he said. “I visited Wallace, and he said that according to the Captain, it was some rogue military base, and we shouldn’t worry about it.”

Collie made a sound. “If that’s true, then why does he want us to talk about it later?”

“I don’t know,” Asher said. He was still holding Collie’s hand. Collie fought to focus on the conversation. It had to mean what he thought it did, didn’t’ it? Even Harley didn’t exactly hold his hand often.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry so much is happening to you, Collie. And part of it’s my fault. I wish…”

“It’s okay,” Collie said, and he squeezed Asher’s fingers because, well, they were right there. “Really. I won’t – I won’t let anything happen to Pax, okay? I promise.”

Asher looked up at him, his expression so earnest and grateful that Collie lost his voice a moment. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him. Maybe it was the universe finally paying him back.

“How – how is he?” he asked. “Pax.”

The happiness began to wane from Asher’s face and he bit on his bottom lip, unbearably teasing to Collie. “Not great,” he admitted. “His fever’s not better and he isn’t so coherent.”

“Hey,” Collie said brightly. “I bet you they’ll give me medicine if I pretend I’m sick. I mean, I did fall into the water and stuff. I can give it to him!”

Asher shook his head. “But Collie, you should actually be taking it. The water probably didn’t do you any good.”

“It’s fine,” Collie said, but Asher continued insisting until Harley returned with Collie’s friends, at which point he excused himself.

It was a mark of how concerned his friends had been that they said not one thing about him talking to a Pretty Boy. Not one word. For the first time since he’d known them, Collie felt an affection for the other three, and for the world in general. Maybe things were finally getting better.

He and Harley both had their schedules cleared for the rest of the week. Collie tried not to think about how Wallace’s schedule was cleared until the next pit stop, at which point he was being sent home.

He was released from the infirmary the next afternoon, along with Wallace – whom he was, if he was honest, a bit afraid of, and thus hadn’t said a word to - so that he could attend the memorial. The entire ship was there, pressed into the dining hall, suffering the deceased’s friends’ words together.

Harley had pulled them into two chairs a little to the side, isolated from the rest of the room. He’d thought it would be good if they were a little apart from the others, and Collie agreed, wishing only that Asher could have sat with them as well.

He knew he would never forget that morning. There was something incredibly jarring about seeing the Pretty Boys, their arrogance doffed for once, tears on their cheeks. He spotted Asher with them, his arm around someone. Jealousy bubbled up in Collie’s throat and he swallowed it, repulsed by his lack of sympathy.

Evan’s friends spoke. Rafael’s friends spoke. Wallace, lifted onto the stage by three other sailors, grew so emotional during his speech that he had to be helped right back off.

“Fuck. I should have said something, shouldn’t I?” Collie muttered, as the morning drew to a close. He couldn’t think of anything he would have rather done less, but it seemed somehow horrible that they’d been silent – the two whole survivors of that morning, and they’d said nothing. As they stood up, inching towards the exit, Collie could practically feel the anger in the stares of everyone who looked their way. And for once, he couldn’t blame them.

“Come on,” Harley said, wiping at his eyes. “Let’s go get drunk.” He was already looking around for their friends.

“No – no thanks,” Collie said, before he could think about it. It’d be one of those more somber nights – confessions and tragic stories and dredging up the past – and he didn’t think he could handle it. “I think I want to be alone.”

“It’s not good for you,” Harley said, as Collie started walking away. To Collie’s surprise, he looked furious. “It’s not good for you, to deal with everything by yourself.”

But Collie wasn’t going to be by himself, for once. He pushed out the doors and ran up the back stairs, landing himself by the laundry room before anyone could see him.

As he’d expected, Asher hadn’t returned yet. But Pax, of course, was there.

“Hi,” he said, and to his bewilderment he was smiling a tiny bit. “I brought you something.”

Pax was stretched out, and horrifyingly enough, looked much worse than he had before. His face was a lambent red, drenched in sweat, his hair matted down into a tangled, colorless plait. There was something very disconcerting about the unfocused, feverish look in his eyes. “Asher said… you were shot.” His words were slurred, and terribly congested, and Collie fought the urge to ignore them.

“Um, kind of,” he said. “The boat was shot. I wasn’t, though.”

“You were lucky,” Pax said, and Collie swallowed, struck how both brothers had said the same thing.

“Uh, I brought you this,” he repeated, and pulled the bottle of medicine out of his pocket. He hadn’t even had to ask for it; the nurse had given it to him, with instructions to take a spoonful with dinner. “We’ll give you, like a dose a day or something. And you’ll get better.”

“Miraculous,” Pax said, but the grin that accompanied his sarcasm made it somehow less biting. “But I told you, Collie… I don’t want to get better.” His voice was so pathetic, it was hard to get angry at him. But Collie managed.

“Oh, shut up,” he snarled. He had known he would take his emotions out on someone, eventually, he just hadn’t thought it would be Pax. “I don’t fucking care if you think what we did was a waste. Asher and I have done a shit ton for you and so you’re going to take the fucking medicine and get better, so that it wasn’t for nothing. Now OPEN your mouth.”

To his shock, Pax obeyed. Before he could change his mind, Collie opened up the bottle and poured the thick, purple liquid into the cap. Feeling his breath grow slightly shaky, he poured it into Pax’s mouth, trying not to feel the soft fabric of the lips against his skin, or to see the way the tongue dribbled harmlessly against his finger.

Shit ton we did, he thought, almost laughing. They’d snuck him upstairs. That was hardly risking themselves.

“Collie!”

Asher was in the doorway, a sad smile on his face. Collie hastily hid the medicine back in his pocket and tried not to blush, not to feel so embarrassed. It wasn’t like he’d been doing anything wrong.

“I’m so glad you’re here!”

“I have something to tell you, actually,” Collie said. “I forgot to before.”

“Okay, sure. But first of all, are you okay?” His hands gripped Collie’s shoulders. Collie fought a smile with the thought that maybe, just maybe, he’d have to stop being embarrassed – because this touching of Asher’s was going to become a regular thing. “That was hard to watch, for me, and I can’t imagine how it was for you.”

The ceremony. Collie’s heart sank. He didn’t want to talk about it. While death had never scared him, really, grief and emotions did in a major way. Particularly other people’s. And he felt especially uncomfortable talking about it with Pax there, though he could not explain why.

“I’m fine,” he said impatiently, “but listen. According to Harley, who found out from Jared and Alabaster, the Captain is going to ask us to pick new roommates… so if, you know,” he hadn’t thought about what it would feel like to say this, and he fought his fuzzy, stubborn tongue with everything he had, “if we roomed together… and we told two other people…Pax could stay with us.”

Pax snorted with what was perhaps derision, but then grimaced and started rubbing at his nose.

“That’s a great idea, Collie,” Asher said slowly. “But… who else would we trust? Please don’t take this the wrong way, because I don’t mean any offense by it, but… your friends aren’t the nicest people.”

His friends? What about Asher’s friends, who thought they were better than everyone and looked down on people just for not having money?

“Harley’s a good guy,” he said softly. “He’d never tell.” Asher’s disapproval shamed him, and he stared at the ground.

“But he’s one person,” Asher said. “Who else?”

“James – James Spickshore’s not so bad,” Collie said, though in truth James was his least favorite friend, just because there was something terribly unsettlingly aggressive about him. Maybe not James. “Or,” he conceded, feeling he would regret it, “if you could trust one of your friends…”

“Well, we can request each other,” Asher said, “and then… we’ll see when the time comes. If it’s necessary.”

A stutter started in Collie’s heart. They might very well be roommates. He, and Asher, and maybe Harley too. And for the first time in a very, very long while, he would be happy.

Pax made a sound, something between a moan and a gasp. Asher turned to him, concerned but still calm.

“Pax? What’s wrong?” Asher said and he sat beside his brother, eyes soft. Collie shifted slightly closer as well.

“I don’t…” His words slurred and then broke off, replaced with a harsh, hitching breath. Asher didn’t even blink, just rubbed Pax’s back.

“It’s okay,” Asher murmured. Pax’s face twisted and tugged, a whole tortured carnival of sensations on his once-pretty features.

And then, as if he’d suddenly snapped out of the fever, remembered some of his ingrained self-sufficiency, Pax struggled forward. He only made it a few tile squares from his spectators when his fluttering eyelashes won, pulling tight and holding him in trembling place, on all fours.

“HEHPSHHUH! HihhSHUHH!” He caught them against the back of his hand, spray dotting his bare wrist, and Asher pressed a handkerchief into his hand.

“Get them out,” he said, touching Pax’s shoulder.

Pax continued to shudder, helpless now, his shoulders furling and unfurling in waves of three. “Hehheh – HEHSHUH! HehhPPSHUH! HihhPPSHH!”

He was clearly conscious of his volume and, as it grew louder, he struggled more, the sound beating his shut lips and making his temple twitch in agony.

“Pax, Pax,” Asher said over and over, his voice held at a trained, sweet level while his eyes did the worrying. “Pax, you’re okay,” he said. Pax’s body continued to shake and shake until Asher’s arms were around him, holding him like he was a little boy.

And suddenly there was a hard-to-fight feeling in Collie’s heart, and he had to look away. He was jealous, he realized. Jealous. Though why, and of who, he couldn’t be sure.

“I – I should go.” he said. He felt as if something in him would break if he watched any more.

“Night,” Asher said, distracted but kind as always.

Collie shut the door and leaned against it for a moment, breathing hard, trying not to listen to the sound of Pax, vulnerable, inside. Was it just yesterday that Asher had held his hand? He held his right hand in his left and traced along the skin, trying to remember how it had felt.

--

A/N: Sorry guys, I'm not sure why all the parts for this story ended up being so long! I also realize it isn't all *that* fetishy yet, so I promise it'll... eventually... get to be more so. Sometimes I feel like I have to choose between that and plot, though, and, well, it's a difficult choice. But it'll get better, I promise! Thank you all so, so much for reading and, as always, I love your comments <3.

[Emily]

fangirl sirens haven't gone off in a while, but they sure be going off now. haha, yes you're doing an awesome job of keeping us updated with perfectly written cliffies. whenever i read a good fic here i wonder if i'm reading it for the fetish or for the plot. :'D hehehe so i totally get what you mean with choosing between the two. i always have such a hard time putting in the right amount of plot though. gotta get my mind back in shape soon!

[VividBubbles!]

This was so good. I would take out a part of it and tell you how much I loved that one part but then I'd have to quote your whole story and well, that would be a waste of wonderful space for more of this glorious story. Oh, and I suggest to keep the little amount of fetish and lovely plot because really, it's amazing how magnificent this story is. Oh, and if you read the bottom part of my last comment it says no cookie guaranteed. But, I'm feeling nice today so here. A picture of a cookie! Update soon!

BYE!

[PaperThings]

A/N: Eep, I'm sorry guys. I suck. This month just got crazy busy, because there was work and exhaustion and then I decided it was really high time I started editing my NaNoWriMo story. But I am back, and with this slightly-more-fetishy-than-normal chapter.

@ Emily - YAY! Fangirl sirens! And yeah, I'm the same way - I always wonder if it's the plot or the fetish I read for here. Both can be good, I guess . I'm so glad you like the cliff hangers!

@ Bubbles! - I'm so, so glad you like it. And thank you so much for the cookie! I totally had chocolate chip waffles this morning, which are similar, so I'm super happy right now. I'm glad you think the balance of the story is good.

For three days Collie avoided Pax’s room and saw Asher only in the hallways, where he smiled and nodded and looked away. Asher, from the fleeting glimpse he had, was confused but not hurt – good, that would have been the last thing he needed.

A part of him knew he was being foolish. Above all else, Pax needed the medicine. But a part of him understand himself, as well – he was drawn to those boys, now more than ever. And that was why he needed to stay away from them.

Collie stepped into the breakfast hall that morning only to feel a sharp, heavy something connect with his behind. He sprang forward slightly, but managed to catch his balance before he slipped. Not too long ago, he had slipped every time.

“My boy,” Alabaster said, locking an arm around his neck. He was smiling his most winning smile, his breath smelling of berries but too strongly. “Harley wants you. He’s in the hallway.”

“Oh,” Collie said. Harley wasn’t coming in. That meant it was serious. He took a banana from the display and waved to James and Jared on his way out, wondering what the two of them possibly had to talk about when the other three weren’t around.

“He wants us,” Harley said, as Collie took in his mussed hair and deer-like eyes.

“The Captain. He wants us in his office.”

Collie took a sharp breath. “Well…”

Harley nodded understandingly. “Let’s go.”

Collie had not seen Harley so much since the accident – he had not gone to the nightly card games since – and he now noticed a change in his friend. He would have expected Harley to joke around and break the tension, fake a smile through it, but Harley was solemn. Collie wondered if the boat’s effect was as obvious on him, or if there was one at all.

It wasn’t as if he thought about them that much… Evan and Rafael and Norman… When he started to think about them, he simply made his mind shut up.

“Oh, good, good! It’s nice to see you boys! Do come in.” His door was open and as they stepped through, he nodded for them to close it.

Sir Rogan was a striking man. He had white hair, cut close to his head but not too close, and a thick mustache which dribbled over his lips. However, mixed in with the white, there were a few flecks of red hair. The comparison to a feral animal was almost too apt, as if there were a possibility that Sir Rogan was not entirely human. He was not tall and did not speak loudly, but was simply one of those men who commanded absolute authority. He reminded Collie a little bit of Alabaster, and only a part of the comparison was because of the hair.

“Please have a seat boys.” His hands were busy with paperwork on the desk but he paused his movement, surveying their faces intently. “How have you been recovering?”

“Quite well, Sir,” Harley said, his voice dull, before Collie could open his mouth. “Thank you.”

The Captain’s mouth thinned into a line before he smiled, bright and soft all at once. “I’m so glad to hear it. It’s a real tragedy what happened. Some of our smartest, most capable sailors. I am deeply saddened we’ve lost them.” Selfish, Collie thought. He’s not sad they’re dead, he’s sad his crew will be four men down.

There was a moment of awkward silence, and Collie wondered if they were supposed to agree with him, but the Captain swooped in gracefully.

“Now listen, boys, I thought it was important I spoke to you about something. There are many reasons for what might have happened – the list of which I will not trouble you with, for it would take too long. My own theory is that it was a rogue military capsule – as I told you, I believe, Mr. Delantis,” Harley nodded, “but not all of my high-sailors agree.”

Collie wondered how many of the high-sailors were in his pocket, and how many were simply using their positions for information.

“However, regardless of the reason for this tragedy – it happened. Some of the sailors aboard this ship – including yourselves, though you may not realize it – are quite young. I fear what it would do to share this information with them. …You understand that, don’t you?”

His expression darkened as if with concern, but Collie saw through it. “Besides… no one other than yourselves truly saw what happened that day. It would be… hard to paint a picture, don’t you think? When the two of you are the only witnesses – healthy as you are, thank the gods – and the other boys are…” He swallowed, as if with emotion, but Collie briefly met Harley’s eyes and he knew his friend understood a dramatic pause as well as he did.

If they spilled, the Captain would call it murder, pin the blame on them. It would be an easy enough accusation, after all, minus the fact that there was no real way for them to get a cannon.

“Well, enough of that,” he said, and Collie could have slapped his rosy cheeks for the thinly veiled triumph in the creases. “As you boys may have heard, I thought it about time we readjust the rooms aboard the ship, here. You two can have the honor of being the first to request, if you like.” He winked. “I’m sure you’ll like the chance to be roommates, won’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” they intoned automatically, accepting the slips of paper he slid their way.

There were numbers one, two and three, and that was all. Collie gripped the pen for a few seconds before deciding to write down Jared’s name in the third slot; Jared, at least, was Harley’s brother. Collie liked to think that, if Harley were to tell him, he would not betray them for fear of getting his brother in trouble.

After they handed in their sheets, the Captain dismissed them. Harley’s expression remained broody and hee ignored Collie, walking a little ahead of him; Collie’s fingers didn’t quite touch when he reached out for Harley’s shoulder.

Harley cried out as he rounded the corner, confronted with Alabaster, perfectly still, his arms folded and an impish smile on his face.

“Don’t do that, Alabaster,” he said, sighing in exasperation.

“You picked rooms, didn’t you?” Alabaster said. When they nodded reluctantly, Harley’s annoyance overly evident, he grinned. “The rest of us will be next, then! Well boys, I do believe the golden age is upon us.” Collie resisted the urge to roll his eyes and Harley did not bother resisting at all.

“I have it all worked out,” Alabaster continued, ignoring their dispassionate response. “We have to each leave out a different one of us, so they have no choice but to put us all together.” Collie could not understand why Alabaster cared so much. He wasn’t like Collie or even like Jared; he would have been just fine rooming with anyone. “Of course,” he said, his gaze slanting, “it’s quite possible we’ve been requested by half the ship, and they have dozens of places to put us in. Who did you leave out, Harley?”

“My brother,” Harley replied shortly. “We’ve lived together all our lives. I don’t see any reason why we have to now. Don’t make me wish I’d left out you, Alabaster.”

“Collie?”

Collie flushed. He was both afraid of offending and afraid of being identified - perhaps jokingly, by Harley, who must have suspected his infatuation with Asher – as the one who dented their fine plan. He also wondered which of the others would not write his name down.

“I skipped all of you, sorry,” he said, the lie coming to him with a quickness he usually lacked. “I wrote down three Pretty Boys.” His newly-vocalized sarcasm was one of the better gifts of his happiness and he grinned as he said it feeling, for once, not entirely inferior to Alabaster’s long red hair. “Oh, and with Connor Stallion as number one, of course.”

This was less funny by the end of the week, when room assignments were posted.

As Collie read his, he could feel his heart in his throat, first overjoyed and then:

Asher Abrams

Harley Delantis

Collie Michaels

Connor Stallion

It wasn’t possible. Absolutely not possible. Unless…

“Asher,” he said, finding him in the hallway, for once panicked about something other than the shy, easy grace of Asher’s every smile. “Did you - um, we’re roommates, did you see?” he said, speaking too quickly, out of breath.

“We are?” His smile, pure joy, was almost enough to calm Collie, but not quite. “That’s wonderful news. But, Collie, are you okay? You look flushed.”

Collie wiped at his brow. “I’m – I’m all right. But um, did you see? We’re roommates with my friend Harley and um, also, Connor Stallion.”

“Oh, right,” Asher said. “He said he’s a childhood friend of yours. He wanted to know if I would request him, and he I, so that the three of us could room together.”

Childhood friends. Collie wanted to spit. But worse was the fact that Connor knew about them, him and Asher. Knew how they were friends. How?

“Oh, well… I guess… I guess we can’t tell them about Pax then, can we?” he said, lowering his face, his panic rich in his chest but too confusing to truly process.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Asher said seriously and he gestured for Collie to step into the stairwell with him. “Collie, he isn’t doing well. He doesn’t sleep very much, because he thinks he’ll be discovered and, well, that room isn’t very clean.” His eyes went wide, and he backtracked. “Of course, it was great of you to think of it. We’d be lost if it wasn’t for you, Collie, I didn’t mean – “

“It’s fine,” Collie interrupted, almost but not quite annoyed. He didn’t bother mentioning that having Pax move in with them had also been his idea.

Asher took a breath. “I was thinking… if you’re completely sure you can trust Harley, and that he won’t tell the others, then, I think we can do it. Connor is a good man.”

Collie’s heart twisted and sank, a guppy dropped dead from a fishhook. Had Connor really managed to trick Asher, after all that?

“I…”

“Why don’t we give it a week?” Asher asked patiently. “We move in day after tomorrow, so we can see how the four of us get along, and then…”

“Yeah,” Collie said absently. “Yeah, okay.” He was going to get hell from his friends. Hell for splitting them up – maybe even from Harley – and definitely hell for rooming with his arch nemesis.

“I have something to take care of,” Asher said. “Would you mind…” he smiled lightly, concernedly, “checking on my brother? He hasn’t been having such a good day.”

“Yeah, of course,” Collie said and he swallowed, hating the feelers that poked up through his gut, a little of fear and a little of something else. “I can sit with him until you’re done.”

“Thank you, Collie,” Asher said and for a moment he stared, smiling. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Collie leaned against the stairwell, grinning like a madman as he heard Asher disappear. Asher depended on him. Asher depended on him. He soon remembered he had promised to sit with Pax and he left, still cheerful, deciding he would leave the dilemma of Connor Stallion until a later hour.

“Hello?” he said, freshly timid in the intimate darkness of the laundry room.

Pax was stretched out along floor, his head supported gingerly by an old pillow. “Does no one ever use this room?” he asked, coughing around the words as he spoke. “No one ever does their laundry?”

Collie shrugged, bashful. “No one really knows how. We wait until there’s someone to do it for us, like on rest days.”

“Ah, I see.” The small conversation seemed to have winded him and he lay quietly, his eyes open and vacant as they rested on Collie’s face.

“Um, how are you?” Collie asked.

Pax said nothing. He rubbed a finger under his nose, swift but adamant.

“The medicine hasn’t worked at all?”

Pax sighed and, brow furrowed, replaced the finger on his nose with one from the other hand.

Collie grimaced as he watched the raw nostrils shift from side to side, imagining that it hurt. “Hey, stop that,” he said, surprising himself. The words slipped out before he could filter them. “You’re going to make it worse.”

Pax looked confused a moment and then, seeing Collie’s eyes on his hands, reluctantly dropped it, glaring. “No, the medicine hasn’t worked,” he said, after a moment. His eyes glazed over as he spoke and his left nostril fidgeted slightly, agitated.

“Of course, I appreciate your trying,” he said stiffly. “It would mean a lot to my brother if he knew, even if you think he’d be against it.” That made it sound as if Collie thought Asher placed his well-being over Pax’s. He winced inwardly. Pax breathed in sharply and replaced the hand against his nose, scrubbing furiously.

Collie reached out and caught Pax’s wrist, taken aback by the way his fingers closed so easily around the shrunken skin and bone. “Hey,” he said again, more quietly.

“Leave me alone,” Pax snarled, his breath hitching as he swatted Collie’s arm away.

Collie recoiled, stung, half-frightened by the way Pax’s eyes narrowed, the thin, hazy slits of his gaze just enough to reveal the helpless panic.

“Pax?” he said, his restored shyness enough to make him keep his distance. “Pax?”

With a noise, somewhere between a growl and a gasp, Pax shivered into a hunched position, his head bobbing like a puppet’s. “HehhSHUH! HEHSHUHH!” Pressing his arm against his nose he caught two more, his skin rippling lightly with the tug of each. “HEHshhh! EhhPSHHH!”

Collie started to relax, thinking the pause meant it was over, that Pax would stop. But the pause was merely a pause – Pax’s lungs grappling desperately for more air – and Pax’s curled body began to sway.

“Are you - are you okay?”

In answer, Pax sneezed pitifully, the sound clenched and weary despite its volume. The spray splattered over his arm and caught Collie’s hand, but he didn’t even glance down.

“Pax, please, nod or something,” Collie said, not even thinking about the way his voice grew squeaky with panic.

But Pax couldn’t nod. His body was lost to him, out of his control, his face pinned in a helpless, inhuman expression.

“Hihhhih – “

Collie’s heart stuttered as he watched Pax struggle, the tears of irritation on Pax’s cheeks making his head spin.

“Here, I’ve got you,” he said, trying to adopt the calm, supportive façade Asher had demonstrated before.

He reached out and gripped Pax’s shoulders in his hands and, before either of them could absorb what was happening, Pax had fallen into his chest, his tangled hair and feverish skin crushed by Collie’s shaking arms.

Collie didn’t let go.

He felt Pax continue to spasm in his arms, though whether the furious shaking was to an effort to get free or to stop the sneezing, he couldn’t tell.

The sounds were almost quiet now, muffled as they were by Collie’s shirt, and he could feel each one – the furious motion of Pax’s body, slamming against his, the raging loss of composure too strong for Pax to move away.

He felt a puddle of moisture spread along his skin but, to his surprise, it made him feel warm and not altogether unpleasant. Like he was caring for someone.

“Hey,” he said, reaching blindly forward and catching a piece of Pax’s hair. “Just slow down, it’ll be fine.” Just slow down? He remembered why he didn’t talk much. The panic and the, to his horror, pleasure were equal in his gut, the fear that he was handling this all wrong mounting with every twitch of Pax’s body.

“Fuck,” Pax said after a minute or two of this, the word breathy and hateful and just barely under the border of control. With a liquid sniff that left a trail from Collie’s shirt to his nose, he drew away, his shoulders shivering in a nonexistent chill.

His face was ravaged – skin streaked with tears, eyes bloody, strands of spittle and something-else strewn across his pale lips.

Collie didn’t let himself look, didn’t let himself feel anything. His worry rose to the top and relieved the rest of him, taking charge.

“Pax, Pax,” I have to stop saying his name, he thought. “Are you okay?”

And when Pax looked at him, the expression there was so naked, so broken and honest, that Collie’s throat closed up. “No,” Pax said, and to Collie’s horror he sounded near tears. “No, fuck you, fuck you…” His face was twisting, barely restraining sobs. It made Collie want to grab onto him.

Their faces were close and Collie could see parts of his face he had never seen on anyone, like every last wrinkle of exhaustion under his eyes and the complete map of his nostrils, burned red.

“Pax… I…”

It was impossible to say, later, which of them leaned forward.

All Collie knew was that one of them, or maybe both of them, had been brave, and in the next minute they were kissing.

He had never kissed anyone before. But there was no thinking about that now.

He knew only Pax’s hands, tight on his hair, and the way he could still feel Pax breathing, every inhale a struggle, and the way the touch of his mouth and his tongue held more hate and passion than he had ever felt in his entire life, let alone in one moment. The kissing was material, not what he remembered. All he could remember was Pax.

He never wanted it to end. And yet, at the same time, he felt he wanted nothing more than to escape – escape and see clearly once more.

And, as if Pax had read his mind, they broke apart. Collie could hear a heart pounding and wondered if it was his own.

“Get out,” Pax said softly.

“Huh?” Collie’s pain, all of it, rose up and filled his eyes – not quite tears, but searing enough to come close. “What?”

“GET OUT,” Pax roared. His eyes glistened with loathing.

And Collie was on his feet and out the door, slamming the door behind him, running down the corridor so fast that he was sure he’d crash through the wall on the other side and fall into the sea.

But before he could make it to the wall, Connor Stallion reached out from the dark of the hallway and caught him, a net around a fish.

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who didn't abandon this story . I really hope you liked the chapter and I'd love to hear what you think of the story!

[pinknose]

fsulfruwljruwlifu *spazzes*

[Emily]

fsulfruwljruwlifu *spazzes*

^ Yes. Exactly that.

Holy good lord, NaNoWriMo. I entered it once and I swore never again to do it. It near made my death bed. You have my respect for committing yourself to it, seriously. Good luck with it!

And I think recently, the quality of the stories on the forum have been getting a lot better the past couple of years so I think the fetishy business is just an added bonus on already good stories!