Chapter Text
John’s wrists burned as he twisted his arms painfully behind his back, one leg planted against the bars of his cell and the other knee digging into the warped wood below. It was agonizing to move his hands; the thin rope cut into his wrists like wire and burned his skin like a rug.
This had to work, there wasn’t anything for him to cut the rope on and he sure as hell wasn’t going to be able to fight his way off a ship full of pirates with his hands behind his back. These bonds were going to come loose, whether they liked it or not.
The brunette clenched his teeth tightly and gave his wrists one last particularly violent twist; the knot loosened by a miniscule amount at the exact same moment a long hiss of pain escaped his lips.
He blinked away the pained tears that had gathered in his eyes and focused instead on slipping the knot between his fingers, picking at it until finally, finally the end caught and he was able to work the rope apart.
John slumped against the cell bars in exhaustion as the rope fell to the floor with a gentle ‘thud’, and cradled his hands against his shirt. After a moment he dared to glance down, gingerly running his fingers over his red, raw wrists. He winced at the sudden sting as the pad of his thumb brushed over scrapes and blood.
Blowing out a shaky, strained breath, John muscled his way up to his feet; his pale hand slipping to circle one of the cell’s steel bars and support his weight. He could faintly hear the sounds of shouts and rigging far above, but the noise was muffled by several layers of wood. He was definitely below deck, and probably two or three down if his estimation was correct.
How the hell was this his life? the brunette tiredly lamented, allowing his gaze to skim quickly across the dark interior in search of any escape. Aside from numerous barrels, boxes and a couple weak lanterns swinging precariously from the skeleton ceiling, there was nothing of interest.
John blew out a heavy sigh of frustration as he head fell forward against the bars with a ‘clang’ and a painful throbbing erupted in his forehead.
“Ow,” he grumbled.
He’d already done heavy searching of his cell; a box of steel bars embedded into the wooden structure of the boat and centered in the middle of the room. There’d been nothing, no objects he could reach, no loose bars through which to escape, and the gate was heavily bound with a thick metal padlock and key. John had no materials with which to pick it, and probably couldn’t have even if he did.
He flopped down onto the wooden floor and crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to shiver. The clanging of bells and snapping of sails echoed throughout the boat, reminding John of days on the sea and a rambunctious crew and the painful structure of the navy that had all been his life not even a day ago. Before the pirates attacked.
John let his face fall forward to rest on his knees, and just breathed.
It was hours before exhaustion allowed him to escape from his saddened thoughts, his aching fear and the gentle rocking of the boat.
Three days in and John honestly wasn’t sure what was worse, the hunger or the cabin fever. Once a day a crew member had brought him food, barely enough, and scurried away as soon as possible. Other then that, there was absolutely nothing different, nothing to see in this empty hull and John was about to scream from the absolute boredom that was consuming him, eating him from the top down as starvation dug from his insides, out.
There was a noticeable shake in his hands that refused to vanish, and he’d been feeling lightheaded since he’d woken up.
He was half asleep, staring in a daze at the gently swinging lanterns when the world exploded around him.
John sat bolt upright with a scream, scrambling backwards as splinters of wood ricocheted through the air and a cannonball shot across the hull, destroying all barrels that occupied it’s path.
The brunette scrambled backwards, huddling in the farthest corner of his cell that he could as the sharp ringing of a bell exploded throughout the boat and screams echoed from the deck far above.
Water began to rush in through the hole in the hull.
Two more cannons exploded through the deck, causing John to curl around himself with another fearful shriek as smoke filled his lungs, rung in his ears and oh god, he was going to fucking die down here-
The sharp coldness of ocean water that sunk into his boots jarred him violently back to reality.
Icy, numbing fear crystallized in John’s chest, and he stared in wide eyed horror at the water rolling into the deck by the bucket full; roaring to the same tune as the terror creeping through his veins.
The ship was sinking, and no one was coming to try and repair any of the damage done. The deck was going to fucking flood, and he was going to be trapped down here, he was going to drown-
John launched himself to his feet, dragging himself through ankle deep water by the cell bars as he started to slam against them, trying to break free. Adrenalin sparked through his muscles to the point where he felt no pain, even when he threw his entire weight forward to bash his shoulder into the gate, causing the padlock to shudder.
After about thirty seconds the water was to his knees and exhaustion and panic was setting in. Two more cannon shots exploded around him, one slamming into the stairs and the other into the stern of the hull.
John gave up trying to force his way through steel and started yelling. He kicked and screamed and slammed metal until his voice was horse and his malnourished, exhausted body trembled with exertion, and he knew no one was going to save him even as he continued to scream- expletives and slurs and panicked shrieks of fear-
He realized, as water swirled around his chest, that there were tears streaming down his face. This wasn’t what he’d wanted, when he ran away from home. He hadn’t wanted to die a forgotten captive in a sinking boat, he hadn’t wanted to drown where no one would ever find him or even remember him.
John slammed his head uselessly against the bars, cold water draining the heat from his body and sobs wracking his shaking frame.
He was going to die.
He swam and yelled until there was only an inch of air remaining against the wooden ceiling of the deck. With one last gulp of misty oxygen, he was submerged.
It was an eerie feeling, John realized as he floated there, suspended motionless in ocean water and coldness. The surrounding area was practically pitch black, illuminated only by the faint light trickling in from the stairs. The shadows of destroyed barrels and hull made him feel like he was seeing a ghost ship- observing a wreck from the bottom of the sea.
Pressure began to build up in his lungs and throat, and he wondered if anyone would ever find this ship, find the body floating, trapped in a cell at the bottom of the sea.
A sudden explosion of bubbles radiated outwards from the stairs, and John saw the black silhouette of a man blotting out the light, moving towards him. John surged forward to meet him as rushing water echoed his ears and burned in his throat, and watched through unfocused eyes as the man pulled a sword from his belt.
The shadow hooked the blade behind the padlock and twisted, the snap of metal echoey and distorted through the water, and then he yanked the door open and grabbed John’s arm, and John couldn’t breath, he could hardly think, what was going on-
Strong arms looped under his own, wrapped around his waist and dragged him towards the stairs as John’s vision began to blur, his brain screaming for air.
The water turned golden as his sight finally blotted out black, and John’s body went limp in his rescuer’s iron grip.