Work Text:
Galo washed his hands and face in the surf, while spitting out the sand in his mouth. There was nothing he could do about his clothes. Washing them in seawater probably wouldn’t improve his situation much.
Galo stood and stared out at the horizon as the tide lapped gently at his ankles. The sea was a smooth, glassy expanse of blue. The scene was beautiful and innocent but Galo found it to be extremely deceptive. This same calm sea had very recently nearly killed him.
Galo searched the horizon for any sign of ships (or life at all, really) but found none. With a sinking heart, he turned toward the beach.
White sand stretched to the edge of a thick green forest. It was undisturbed but for the signs of Galo’s presence.
“I guess I’ve always wanted a holiday on a tropical island,” Galo said, trying to look on the bright side of the situation.
The heat of the sun was beginning to feel uncomfortable on his skin, so Galo headed for the (hopefully) cooler shade of the trees. As he walked along the edge of the forest, he began to notice something odd. The sand looked disturbed, as if several people had been trampling all over it…or animals? Galo supposed that wild animals could be responsible. In fact, that was likely. Yet Galo still found himself hoping that it was humans. He had zero experience in surviving on a deserted island for an extended period of time.
Galo had considered staying close to the beach in the hope of spotting a ship, but he changed his mind when he found a path that led into the forest. That was definitely worth exploring.
The path was clearly well-travelled. Galo kept a careful eye out for predators, but as he walked further into the forest, his hopes rose. When he heard voices ahead of him, he almost broke out into a run.
Good sense stopped him before he could, however. The voices sounded young, and Galo supposed that if they were children, a burly, sand-crusted guy running toward them would terrify them. He kept his walk steady as he approached.
As Galo had suspected, the voices were those of children. There were three of them striding along the path toward Galo. Two of them appeared to be teasing the younger one in the middle. They froze when they saw Galo, their eyes going wide.
“Hi.” Galo waved.
The children bolted. The younger one stumbled, but the older two grabbed his arms and pulled him along with them.
“Hey!” Galo called. Jeez, was he really that scary?
That hadn’t been a great reception, but that was okay, Galo decided. There were people here, and they were doing all right for themselves, judging from the children’s clothing. Maybe the adults would be a bit more understanding of Galo’s situation.
Galo continued down the path. Several minutes later, he heard a rustling in the trees. Two figures stepped out onto the path in front of him.
Adults, Galo guessed. And male. And armed. Both were holding swords, and they looked like they knew how to use them. Their faces were covered with scarves, so Galo couldn’t see their expressions, but he had the feeling that they weren’t friendly.
Okay, these guys had probably gotten the wrong impression from the children. Totally understandable.
Galo raised his hands, doing his best to look non-threatening. “Hi. Look, I don’t mean any harm. My ship was caught in a storm and I got washed up here. I just--“
Something hit Galo on the back of the head and he fell into darkness.
Galo woke with a pounding headache. He sat up slowly, nursing the back of his head with his hand. To his surprise, his hair felt clean, as if all the sand had been washed out of it.
Galo blinked and stared around himself. He was in a small room, lying on a bed. The room looked a bit cluttered, but clean. A lamp sat on a wooden table near the door, casting firelight around the small space.
Someone was sitting on a chair next to the door. Galo was about to say something, but they stood and left the room before he could.
Weird.
Galo was getting the distinct impression that he wasn’t welcome here, and that kind of stung. It wasn’t as if he’d done anything to make these people distrust him. What could he do when they seemed to have made up their minds about him already?
But, then, he wasn’t dead yet, so Galo had a chance to change their minds.
The door opened again, and someone new entered the room. They moved with confidence and authority. They studied Galo with critical eyes before taking a seat on the chair.
Galo felt his heart shiver in his chest. Magenta eyes. Fluffy blond hair. Leather and a white cravat.
Galo was so fucked.
Everybody knew about the Mad Burnish crew and their pint-sized captain. They were notorious pirates who roamed freely on these waters. Galo must have accidentally stumbled onto their home base.
This definitely wasn’t good. The Mad Burnish had a reputation for being nasty. They usually never killed, but that didn’t mean they were nice or merciful. Galo knew of grown men who’d been born on the sea who had given up their careers after crossing paths with the Mad Burnish.
“Do you know who I am?”
The captain’s voice was deeper than Galo had expected, given his delicate appearance. Galo considered saying no, but decided that honesty was the best policy. Being caught in a lie later would only make things much worse for him.
“Yes. You’re Mad Burnish.”
“Points for honesty. Yes. I’m Lio Fotia, the captain of Mad Burnish.”
Fotia poured a glass of water from a pitcher and stood to hand it to Galo. Galo took it, though he didn’t drink from it. Fotia returned to his chair.
“What’s your story?” Fotia inquired. “You don’t look like the usual sort coming after us for the bounty on our heads, or our treasure.” He said the word ‘treasure’ in a wry, sarcastic tone.
“I’m not even sure where I am,” Galo admitted. “I was travelling on a merchant ship and working as a deck hand when we got caught in a storm. I washed up here on the beach.”
“That’s unfortunate for you,” Fotia said quietly. “We can’t let you leave. You might lead people back to us.”
That was a fair concern, and Galo had to admit that if Fotia never bothered to extract some sort of promise of silence out of him, Galo might go to the authorities. Piracy was against the law.
“But you’re not gonna kill me, right?” Galo gingerly touched the back of his head again.
“If we wanted you dead, you’d already be dead. We don’t kill unless we have no choice.”
Reassuring.
“You’ll stay here for the time being. Once you’re feeling better, you can help out around the settlement.”
“Settlement?” Galo inquired. He thought of the children who had fled from him. How many people were staying here? It clearly wasn’t just the Mad Burnish.
“Yes. This is our home. That’s why we can’t risk letting you go.”
Fotia stood and began to leave.
“Wait!”
Fotia paused, his hand on the door handle.
“How many kids are here?”
Fotia frowned. “Why does that matter?” he asked.
“Because you’re putting them in danger,” Galo pointed out. “What if the authorities find this place? Those children will be seen as criminals as well.”
Fotia sneered. “If your laws are that fucked up, it isn’t my problem,” he retorted. “If society actually gave a shit about those children, they wouldn’t need to be here and the Mad Burnish wouldn’t need to exist.”
With that puzzling statement, Fotia left the room. Galo felt vaguely as if he had said something wrong, but he couldn’t work out what. Clearly this situation was more complicated than Galo had realised.
Galo knew that he was essentially a prisoner, but he intended to make the best of the situation. He made himself useful by helping the locals with tasks like carting water and supplies, and building or repairing dwellings. He also made certain to befriend the children, whom he found to be good company.
It was hard to tell who among the locals were Mad Burnish or not. They all treated Galo with a minimum of politeness, which Galo returned with his easygoing cheer.
Lio Fotia didn’t speak to Galo again during the first week of Galo’s stay, but Galo caught glimpses of him coming and going from time to time. Fotia seemed to be the uncontested leader of the settlement, and apparently had the respect of everyone there.
It wasn’t until one of the children fell ill that Galo came face-to-face with Fotia again.
Galo had volunteered to watch the boy while his mother helped to harvest the fruit trees. By the second day, Galo was starting to lose confidence that the boy would recover. His fever only seemed to be getting worse.
“Don’t you have any medication?” Galo had asked the boy’s mother on the first day. She’d simply shaken her head in resigned sadness.
Of course, Galo had thought. How could these people get medicine when they lived in the middle of nowhere?
Galo was busying himself with washing the child’s clothes when he received a visitor. He looked toward the door as it opened, expecting to see the boy’s mother. It wouldn’t surprise him if she was concerned enough to drop in to check on her son during the day. But it wasn’t the boy’s mother who entered the hut. It was a familiar blond man.
Fotia gave a start when he saw Galo sitting on the stool with a bucket full of suds at his feet.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded, and Galo heard clearly the defensiveness in his voice.
“Helping out,” Galo responded.
Fotia gave him a searching look before dismissing him and turning his stare to the boy on the bed.
Micki’s face was blotched with red and heat radiated off his skin as if he were melting inside. Fotia approached the bed, but his presence didn’t rouse Micki from his sleep.
Galo watched as Fotia removed a small bottle from his bag. It rattled.
“What’s that?” Galo inquired.
“Water, please,” was his only answer.
Galo got Fotia a cup of fresh water from the pitcher, then stood next to the bed curiously as Fotia removed two pills from the bottle and dissolved them in the water.
“Micki? Micki, wake up.” Fotia’s insistent voice roused Micki from his sleep. Despite his weakness, Micki managed to give Fotia a pleased smile.
“Captain,” he mumbled.
“You need to drink this, Micki,” Fotia urged.
At the first sip, Micki wrinkled his nose. “Tastes bad,” he complained.
“It’s medicine. It will make you feel better,” Fotia told him.
Micki didn’t look convinced. He pressed his lips together stubbornly. “It’s yuck,” he informed Fotia.
“I got it specially for you,” Fotia tried.
That did the trick. Micki reluctantly drank the rest of the water before slipping back into sleep.
Fotia stood and set the pill bottle down next to the pitcher on the table before turning to Galo.
“Two pills in water three times a day until his fever breaks,” Fotia said crisply. “Make sure you tell Nema that.”
“Yeah, I will,” Galo assured him. “But where’d you get those pills?”
“That’s Mad Burnish business,” Fotia informed him before leaving the hut.
So, the pirates had come back from their pillaging with medicine for a sick boy instead of treasure, Galo thought as he lifted Micki’s shirt from the soapy water and wrung it out. The Mad Burnish definitely didn’t appear to be the greedy, violent thugs he’d thought they were. In fact, Fotia’s voice had held a great deal of kindness when he’d been speaking to Micki, a softness that he’d never shown to Galo before. That didn’t fit with the image of a cutthroat, cruel pirate captain.
Galo wondered if he’d misjudged the Mad Burnish. Maybe he ought to make more of an effort to get to know them and their history.
And maybe one day Fotia might see him as something other than an interloper. If Galo wanted these people to understand and accept him, he’d have to try to do the same for them. That was only fair.