Fitz woke up at the exact time he had requested, even without the assistance of someone else. It was a skill he had perfected over the years. It came especially useful during the time he lived on his own. Through the darkness he could see the silhouette of Lotte, sleeping on the windowsill. He was surprised to wake up a few inches away from what he remembered with a jacket draped over him. He took the makeshift blanket and put it over his shirt. The jacket was a bit big for him, draping down to his knees. He put the hood up before walking over to the window.
Lotte's chest rose and fell slowly but in a pattern. Fitz reached out a hand and twirled a strand of blond hair around his finger. Before tucking it behind her ear. He took one arm and placed it underneath Lotte's legs and the other around her back. Fitz pulled her up, holding her close to his chest. He paused for a moment, making sure he didn't wake her before proceeding to the bed. Lotte let out a quiet groan as her head hit the pillow. She let out a quiet mumble not audible to Fitz. He paused to see if she had woken up but Lotte remained still. Her chest fell back into its old pattern.
The downstairs of the house was in complete darkness, with each boy in a sleeping bag other than their own. They snuggled against their weapons like pillows. Fitz walked over to the counter where his sword was. As he slipped it into its holder, Fitz took a look around at the bodies sleeping peacefully. After making sure nothing was out of place, he walked to the door. The cold air welcomed him.
The Dazzler was quiet aside from the waves crashing against the ship. Fitz had been expecting guards standing around the ships'. If he didn't know better Fitz would have almost thought the place was abandoned. He walked across the ship as if he belonged there. There was a dim light coming from a door in the back left corner. As well as the smell of something burning. The door was unlocked and Fitz proceeded to make his way downstairs with his hands in his pockets. His fingers danced around the blade of his dagger; ready to grab it in the face of danger.
It was a short hallway that didn't go longer than fifteen feet when you reached the bottom of the stairs. At the end of it was an archway without a door. The light and smell are now unbearable. Fitz put his arm up to block out the light as he walked. He could hear Mr. Pete humming a tune over the sound of rushing water. Fitz walked into the room, stopping at the doorway. He leaned into the doorway, crossing his arms.
"Coming to get a snack cap—" Mr. Pete asked as he turned around. "You're not the captain!"
"No," said Fitz in a monotone voice. "I'm not."
Fitz walked over to a table in the center of the room; without breaking eye contact with Mr. Pete. Piled on top of it were the leftover scraps of tonight's dinner. The two stood there for a moment trying to anticipate the other movie. After a couple of seconds, Mr. Pete lunged for the freshly loaded gun on the table.
Fitz lunged for it as well, barely grabbing it before Mr. Pete did. Fitz raised the gun to Mr. Pete's face as he proceeded to back him into a corner.
"You don't know how to shoot that thing," Mr. Pete said without an ounce of confidence.
"Oh yeah?" Fitz said, cocking the pistol. "Try me."
Mr. Pete collapsed into a corner next to the sink with his hand raised. Fitz knew he wouldn't have to shoot him. And he was eternally grateful for it. It had been years since he shot a gun.
"What do you want?" Mr. Pete asked.
Fitz smirked at Mr. Pete's weakness. He slid the gun into his pocket, "Just the food."
Mr. Pete nodded, "take whatever you want."
Fitz grabbed an unused garbage bag from the counter. He went for the uneaten food first before stuffing the scraps in. Mr. Pete didn't dare move during the duration. He stayed sitting with his hands up, looking like he might piss himself.
By the time Fitz was finished the kitchen was almost empty of all the food Mr. Pete had prepared. Fitz tied the bag off with a knot before looking at Mr. Pete.
"I am sorry, Mr. Pete. You were always my favourite." Mr. Pete didn't reply. Nor did he move. Fitz gave him a sharp head nod before retreating. Stopping just short of the doorway. "Oh, and you will not leave this room for the next thirty minutes. As you were."
Fitz didn't look back to see if Mr. Pete had gotten up or not. He knew that he would take orders from anyone. Fitz walked back down the hallway and to the top deck. Fitz didn't walk to the edge of the ship like he knew he should. His body begged him to keep walking. Fitz rested the beg at the edge of the ship before making his way to the front of the door. After making sure both his dagger and pistol were in his pocket. The door to his surprise opened with ease. The cabin was dimly lit with a lantern. Everything, even the bed was all organized.
Fitz pulled out the pistol and shut the door quietly. He peered around the corner to see the bathroom door slightly ajar. He could hear the sound of Black Jack talking to himself as the sink running. Fitz sat down on the doorstep, tapping the gun in the palm of his hand.
A couple of minutes later Black Jack walked out of the bathroom. It was weird seeing such a strong man in his pyjamas.
"Bad form, Black Jack," Fitz said standing up. "You knew no matter what happened, you would win."
Black Jack let out a low chuckle as he turned around," And yet, somehow you got the girl. And killed Everet. Put the gun down, Fitz. You're a pain in my side just as much as I am yours."
"Why should I?" Fitz snarled. He held the gun so tightly his knuckles were a ghostly shade of white. If Black Jack had a soul Fitz's glaring eyes would have pierced right through him.
"Are you going to shoot the man who taught you how to shoot? Can you still even shoot? I bet you still have the safety on."
Fitz should have shot him right there. But the fact Black Jack wasn't afraid was agitating him. He stepped closer, not lowering the pistol.
"All you did was make me your bitch. You're not going to do the same thing to her. Not well I'm around."
Black Jack tsked, "Why if I didn't know any better I would say you love the girl. Am I correct?" Black Jack stepped forward causing Fitz to step back. Fitz didn't answer. He raised the pistol to eye level and placed his finger on the trigger. Black Jack let out an unexpecting laugh. He clapped his hands as he toppled over. Fitz wasn't sure he was going to make it back up. "My boy is in love."
"I am not your boy!" Fitz stormed over to him, placing the gun to his head. "Don't ever say that! Ever!"
Black Jack's laughs fell silent. Fitz tightened his finger. The gun had almost gone off by the time Black Jack shot his head back up. He hit Fitz in the nose with an extraordinary amount of force. Causing Fitz to drop to the floor with a loud groan. Dropping the gun. Fitz was still seeing stars when he pulled his hands away, allowing the blood to drip to the floor. He rose slowly to his knees. Black Jack was towering over him, the gun now in his hand. It was pointed to Fitz's throat.
"I'm not afraid of you," Fitz growled. The blood from his nose was pouring into his mouth. his words.
"Don't scream," Black Jack recited. "No matter how much it hurts. Because it shows them they've won."
It was a line Black Jack had drilled into Fitz's younger brain. Black Jack taught all his men how to deal with torture. And he did it the hard way. And even though Fitz was never a part of the crew, he still received the same lesson.
"Don't worry," Fitz said, spitting blood out of his mouth so he could talk more clearly. "You could never make me scream. Not anymore."
Black Jack hummed before walking over to his bed. He knocked the pillow off the floor. Underneath it was a dagger. As the glint of the light hit the blade Fitz stood up. He pulled his blade out of his pocket and charged. Black Jack, almost without looking, shot the dagger out of Fitz's hand. Fitz froze, expecting another bullet, but instead came Black Jack's fist. Fitz fell without a fight. The back of his head hit the ground hard. Black Jack's face was blurry in front of him. He could see his mouth moving, but couldn't hear the words. The lantern light was now extremely bright. Fitz raised his arm to block it out. Black quickly stomped his foot down on Fitz's arm. Earning a weak groan.
"Get up boy, before I shoot you."
Black Jack lifted his foot, allowing Fitz to get up. For a moment Fitz attempted to stand. But quickly fell to his knees.
With one hand Black Jack placed the pistol underneath Fitz's chin, raising it. Fitz's nose hadn't stopped bleeding and now the side of his head was bleeding too. Black Jack smirked as he rolled up his sleeves.
"If you think I'm gonna beg for you to let me go, we're gonna be here all night," Fitz said.
"No," Black Jack clicked his tongue. "But you are going to beg. Take your jacket off."
Fitz was nearly lost for words," you're out of your damn mind if you think—"
Fitz was caught off by the sound of a gun firing. His breath caught in his throat as he looked down at the perfect size bullet hole in between his legs. He slowly looked back up as he took his Jacket off. It crumpled to the floor behind him. Black Jack took his dagger and sliced up the middle of Fitz's shirt before Fitz had even finished looking up. Black Jack clipped the gun onto his belt and placed the blade of the dagger against Fitz's skin. Fitz looked into the cold, heartless eyes that belonged to Black Jack. Before he even had the chance to say anything the blade sliced down the center of his chest. Fitz let out a wince of surprise but kept his composure. He tried not to pay attention to the blood dripping down his stomach.
Black Jack smirked as he watched the blood fall. He knelt to FItz's height, placing a hand on his shoulder before inducing a deep cut in his collar bone. Fitz bit down on his lower lip to suppress his yelp.
"Have you guys kissed yet?" Black Jack asked. Fitz didn't answer. Black Jack raised the knife to where his shoulder and neck connected. "What about here?"
Without an answer, Black Jack dug the knife into Fitz's skin. The sensitive spot made it even harder for him to compress the sound his body was begging him to make. Black Jack slowly made his way up Fitz's neck, each cut getting closer to breaking him. The knife reached Fitz's jawline and he let out a loud whimper.
"Scream," Black Jack said. "And I'll let you go."
Even in agonizing pain, Fitz held his head high. Black Jack circled the boy like a, taking pride in his work. He settled at Fitz's backside. He rested his knees on Fitz's legs and pulled him back by his hair; so that his ear aligned perfectly with Fitz's ear. His other arm reached around Fitz's ribs. He placed the knife on the top rib.
"You think you're saving her," Black Jack scoffed as he continued. "She hardly even put up a fight. The girl's weak. A couple of nicks of the sword and she was already on her knees, begging."
"Shut up," Fitz muttered. Black Jack's words were causing him more damage than the knife. But Black Jack continued.
"I have to say, I was really surprised you didn't teach her better, Fitz. I expected better from you."
"I would never do that to her!" Fitz answered in almost a yell. "Nothing you do to me can make me hurt her."
"Oh but you did," Black Jack nearly laughed. "I made sure she thought it was all you were doing. Haven't you seen?"
"Seen what?"
"The scars. She's covered in them, I don't know how you haven't noticed. I spared no part of her body." Tears flooded Fitz's eyes. He choked back a sob of pain as he reached his final limits. Black Jack yanked Fitz's hair harder as he said, "Not once did she stop crying."
Fitz let out a scream as Black Jack reached his final rib. All of Fitz's held-back pain came in one big title wave. He collapsed to the ground in front of him, sobbing so hard he couldn't breathe. He pounded the ground beside his head with his fist. Fitz had never felt so defeated in his whole life, so useless. Between the bleeding and the emotional pain, he wasn't sure he could get back up.
"Get out of here, boy," Black Jack ordered as he stood up. "Before I change my mind about killing you."