Chapter Text
Remus woke to the sound of shattering glass. He shook awake, observing the crate that had just fallen to the ground next to his right knee. It wasn't his fault, really, the crates had been stacked so poorly and this was the only place big enough for him to hide in.
He froze as he remembered where he was. If anyone heard that, they surely would come down to see what the noise was. Remus stayed motionless. He could feel every joint in his body practically screaming at him to move. He had been cramped up in here all night and his limbs clearly hated their contorted positioning. He couldn't stay in this position much longer. He could feel bruises forming where his body pressed up against the crates and barrels surrounding him. His head was inches from the ceiling, the boxes under him nearly filled the room themselves. He could feel splinters in his legs and an ache from where his chest was bent. He waited a couple minutes before sighing quietly and relaxing his muscles.
It had been a split second decision, to run onto the ship. All he had been thinking in the moment was that he needed a way to avoid the fate that would be waiting for him in the morning. So he had run when the crew was distracted by something on the horizon. He quickly searched for a hiding place, ducking behind chests and boxes that were being loaded onto the ship, and eventually followed the trail of cargo to where he now sat.
He didn’t know how long he had been there, and couldn’t tell what time it was from the dark, damp underbelly of the ship. He knew they were moving from the slight sway and the sound of sliding cargo. When he fell asleep the ship had been steadily rocking, so at least he knew that he was far from the shore. Relief flooded him. He wasn't at home. He wasn't dead.
When that thought settled in his mind, he suddenly found himself lingering on another: What the fuck had he been thinking? Remus now found himself in the undercarriage of a random ship headed to god knows where. In his haste to escape one problem, he now found himself in another. This seemed to be a pattern in Remus’ life.
The longer he sat there, the worse the pain was. The arm that was crammed by his side had lost all feeling long ago, and every couple seconds the feeling of pins and needles shot through his hand. Both of his knees had been bent so long he wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to walk again, and there was a large cut on his lower back that wasn’t quite healed yet. He needed to move.
Remus lifted his free arm straight up in the air and slowly moved his torso into the free space. He shifted his hips and slowly brought his knees straight up. If he moved correctly, he would be able to stretch his legs. Remus scooted forward and bent his knees closer to his chest, with his arm still up in the air so that his shoulders wouldn’t hit the crates. He tucked his feet under himself and slowly began to stand. He lifted himself until his legs were straight and his body was completely bent at the waist, his back against the ceiling.
From this angle, he could see above the cargo around him into the rest of the room. Chests and barrels and crates were stacked around him on all sides. There was a gap in the wall of boxes where he had crawled into the space he now occupied.
The lighting in the room was dim and Remus had to force his eyes to stay focused as he scanned the room for a better hiding place. As he turned his neck to face the other way he felt his shoulder hit a sharp corner.
He watched in dismay as the box he hit tumbled onto the crate of glass. The sound seemed to echo throughout the room.
“Fuck.” Remus cursed his long limbs and braced himself. He heard footsteps rushing down the stairs behind the door in the far corner.
Remus ducked back down and covered his mouth with his hand.
The door swung open with ferocity and slammed against the wall behind it. Remus tried not to jump. He heard two sets of footsteps quickly enter the room. Dull light flooded in, flickering as a flame.
“Who’s in here?” A voice called out to the room. The voice was feminine and rough. “Don't be shy, come on out now.”
“Why would anyone answer that?” The other voice asked. This voice was deep but had a tremor as it spoke.
“I don't know Pete, maybe they’re stupid. Stowaways often are.”
“There's probably nobody in here anyway. There hasn't been anyone the last ten times we heard a noise.”
“Yeah, but we've got to check. Captain says so.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
Remus waited, eyes wide open, as he listened to the two pirates search the room. Minutes passed. The scraps of a plan started to form in his head. He turned to face the box next to the entrance.
He waited until he saw a hand flash past the opening. He slammed his body against the box with all his weight. It flew forward and slammed into the person on the other side.
“Agh! What the fuck?!” She yelped as she was pushed to the ground under the weight of the box. Remus darted as quick as he could towards the door, scrambling atop boxes and crates.
He was almost to the door. He felt as if he were inches away. Then suddenly something smacked into his side.
He let out a yelp as he made impact with the ground. He laid there for a moment, dazed, when the large weight on top of him began to lift.
Suddenly, standing in front of Remus was a large boy with a head of stringy brown hair. He wore a presumably random amalgamation of clothing, with a baby blue vest and a cream colored shirt that seemed to squeeze his wrists far too much, as well as a patchwork pair of trousers and two unmatched shoes. On one of his hips hung a long rapier and the other held a blunderbuss. His eyebrows seemed to be perpetually scrunched in a look of worry.
“I got ‘em, Marls!” The boy yelled. Remus scrambled backwards towards the wall and tried to make himself as small as possible. He knew it wasn’t very dignified, but it worked well enough to protect himself from the beatings back at the orphanage.
The girl walked up to stand next to the boy, rubbing her cheek, presumably where Remus had hit her. She had a cascade of shaggy blonde hair, with small braids scattered around it. She wore a tricorn and an ornate navy blue coat. Her ruffled shirt hung low and she brandished daggers and knives across a strap on her torso along with a large cutlass on her hip.
“Nice job, Pete!” She said, giving him a swift pat on the back. “He’s a tricky one, I can tell,” she leaned down with her hands on her knees as if speaking to a child. “What’s your name, tricky one?”
“Remus,” he answered, surprised by the waver in his voice. He couldn’t help the fear creeping up on him, but he was determined not to show it. His eyes flickered between their various weapons and he straightened his back. “Who are you?”
“I’m Marlene and this is Peter,” Her face rose into a wicked white smile. “I think we’re going to be good friends, you and I. Grab him, Pete.” Peter grabbed Remus by the collar of his scrappy shirt and lifted him to his feet. Marlene pulled out a dagger and held it to his back. She lifted her mouth to his ear and whispered. “We’re going to walk you to your new room now. If you try anything, I won’t hesitate to cut you from stem to stern.”
Remus gulped as Peter let go of his collar and turned behind Marlene, his hand on his gun. Peter grabbed the lantern that he had set on the ground and began to lead him out of the room.
“I knew you were more than a kitchen boy, Pete.” Marlene said as they began to walk up the stairs. “You’ll surely get moved up now.”
“I like being a kitchen boy.”
They led Remus up the stairs and through a door. Moonlight lit up the deck they walked onto. The crew seemed to all be sleeping besides whomever was steering the ship.
For a moment, Remus considered jumping off the side, but quickly realized they were ages away from shore. He was lucky to be alive, but he didn’t know how much longer he would stay living. Pirate ships aren’t known for being kind to stowaways.
Peter and Marlene led him to the far end of the ship to a doorway, talking all the while as if Remus wasn’t there. He couldn’t be bothered to listen. Panic was rising in him. He knew very little of pirates, but he was almost certain he would be dead in the morning.
They led him through the passage. It seemed to be some sort of jail inside of the ship. He somehow felt calm upon seeing the cells in the hall they walked into. If they were bothering to put him in a cell, that probably meant they wouldn’t kill him just yet.
Marlene pulled out a ring of keys from her coat and twisted one into the lock. The cell door squeaked open and Peter shoved him inside. He tripped and caught himself with his hands on the wooden floor. He looked back at them just as they slammed the cell door shut.
He ran up to the bars as they turned to leave.
“Are you going to kill me?” He frantically asked.
“We’ll see you in the morning, sunshine.” Marlene laughed, cruel and unforgiving, as she and Peter turned the corner.
Remus looked around his little cell. In one corner there was a thin, grime-covered mattress and pillow, and a bucket and brush in the other. The wood seemed to be rotting and left a heavy stench in the air. On one side of him was a wall of wood and on the other were bars looking into another cell. It was shrouded in shadow.
He sighed and sat on the floor. He began to trace the scars on his arm with his finger. They were rough and thick, even though some of them were years old. He pulled his shirt further over his arm so he couldn’t look at them anymore, and instead fiddled with the frayed hem of his trousers.
He was relieved to be alive, but Remus was feeling the way he felt nearly all his life.
He felt helpless.