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Grains crushed under his cheek, and Mello heard himself groan. It made sand spill into his mouth, which already tasted more of salt than anything.
And that was the limits to his sensory register. Pain was all-consuming, crushing both on nearly every part of his skull and especially hard on his waist down. Between those two, it was just dull stinging.
“Good morning to you too, Capt’n.”
A stick poked him in the shoulder. More sand wormed its way between his bloody lip and aching teeth.
“Wasn’t sure you were even going to wake up.” Matt’s feet crunched on sand, advancing into Mello’s skewed vision of a scene he couldn’t quite comprehend. “Still not sure you’re long for this life.”
His hair muddled with the blood and sand in his eyes, and Mello heard his own voice, distorted by the soreness and salt in his throat. He was trying to ask, ask what the hell was going on, ask for some clarification on something, because last thing he’d known, he’d been steering his ship through the worst storm of his illustrious career, and thinking about what a good story it would make in the next harbour.
“Wreck, Capt’n.” Matt’s stick made contact with his shoulder blade again, his own voice a little worse for wear. “Got a few survivors, but no boat.”
“Wh-“
Mello cut himself off, coughing, and Matt dropped the stick immediately in favour of dragging him up the sand by his deeply protesting shoulders. Or… his torso, at least, because Mello felt something below his ribs protest at a certain point.
“Uh… don’t look back, ok?”
“What- what’s-“
“Just don’t. Don’t worry about it, Mell, I got you.”
That was the opposite of reassuring. It made Mello see stars, actually, stars and his own bloodstains streaked down the sand, because he did look back, and regretted it as he saw crimson soaked through the golden grains.
And- something lying across his legs. Heavy. His legs that he couldn’t feel.
Mello felt his heart pumping blood onto the beach beneath him, and agony was a dull, salt-numbed ache all the way down his body until sensation cut off. Sensation wasn’t supposed to cut off.
He stared at Matt, who was avoiding his gaze. There was driftwood between his teeth, a stick of it, and the remnants of a shirt that hadn’t been his tied around where his left arm was hanging at the wrong angle.
Matt looked like shit, and Mello felt worse.
“What-“ Mello gasped, as Matt moved something, and his vision blurred over for just long enough for him to inhale again before his next ragged breath out. “Happened?”
“What’s happening, more like.”
“Matt-“
“You’re dying, Mell. I think. I’m no doctor, but…” Matt moved back, back into his vision, and he must have been more injured than he looked, because his figure was falling to pieces before Mello’s blurring eyes. “It was a bad wreck. Trust me, the boat’s the least of your worries.”
“I’m dying?”
“Depends if I can get this thing off you. Pretty sure there’s something important about half your blood, but remains to be seen, I guess.”
Half his blood was already cushioning what remained of his body. A slight laugh slipped out, and Mello felt his body sink a little deeper into the sand, like his essence was following his blood back into the earth.
“At least you can say you survived.” Matt grinned, but there was blood on his teeth, and Mello was staring at him like a man already dead. “Not for long, but I’ll tell everyone that my captain survived that fuckin’ storm. Long enough to give me any last words?”
“I- I’m dying.”
That shouldn’t be possible. He’d survived governments, he’d survived bounties, and sharks, and mutinies and assassinations, Mello wasn’t going to bleed out on some shitty island so what remained of his pathetic crew could eat his corpse.
“Yeah. Shitty way to go.” Apparently deciding to give up on him right there, Matt sat back on the sand, his fingers digging small welts into the land now stained with Mello’s blood. “Feel like it?”
“…I’m dying.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you want this?”
“Me, Capt’n? Your loyal first mate? Nah. I’ll be sad to see you go.”
Fury flashed hot red in front of Mello’s eyes, and he was pretty sure it drove another gallon of blood out of his broken body and into the land beneath. He struggled, weakly, and managed to turn almost onto his sides, viciously disregarding the agony it caused in his waist.
“Help me.”
Matt was literally sitting right there. Even if all he was offering was a pitying look and a front-row seat to him chewing on a wooden stick, he could do something, Mello was certain.
“Me? Nah.”
“So you-“
“I’d make it worse.” Sighing, Matt flicked his piece of driftwood into the ocean, and dropped his head to let his eyes trail across whatever Mello’s mangled body must look like. “I could put you out of your misery now, but I’d rather not have you die hating me.”
“So stop me dying.”
“Can’t do that, Capt’n. You were our miracle worker.”
Mello hissed, pure frustration as he turned back onto his front, and considered trying to detach his legs from his body so he could crawl free. It felt like it was happening already, nothing more than burning strands of flesh and bone connecting him to the mess that must lie under the chunk of wood he was pinned beneath.
Matt’s hand pressed down hard, to the back of his neck, and Mello got another mouthful of sand for his trouble to growl as his face hit dirt.
“Nowhere for you to go, Capt’n. Neither of us want the crew to see you like this.”
The crew. They could help, unlike useless Matt, who Mello was going to personally push into the water, when he got his ship back.
“Then get me one of- of them.” Talking was becoming more of an exertion, but anger was just as god of a fuel now as it was, setting Mello’s blood boiling almost as effectively as his struggles sent it deeper into the sand. “They can- they can fucking kill you in front of me, and-“
“Alright. Where do you want to die? Here, with me an’ your dignity, or looking like the last week’s catch of the day in front of all your pet monkeys?”
That hit home.
Mello stared, blankly, at the barest sliver of jade green grass he could see just a few metres away. And maybe he could pull himself there, leaving a trail of blood soaked deep into the sand, never to be replaced by his decaying body, but all it would do would get him further away from the water.
And further away from Matt. Who... was here. Despite Mello sailing them into a storm. Despite… all the shit Mello had given him, in their years together.
Mello went limp, against the sand, and squeezed his eyes shut in furious acceptance.
“I’m really fucking dying here.”
“Yeah. Told you. Always took a few times to get it into your head.”
“I don’t… feel like I- I’m dying…”
“Remember when the carpenter lost his arm to the faulty rigging? Pulled it right off, and he insisted he’d be fine if I got him some rum right up until he fell over.”
“He was fucking stupid.”
“And so are you. Enjoy your last few moments, Capt’n. What do you want me to do with your body?”
Bleak conversation. It made Mello’s throat twist, knowing half the organs it lead to were already mashed up inside him, and he thought about how many cremates he’d seen torn apart on the deck, by canonfire or idiocy.
At least he’d died to the sea itself. Nothing shameful about going down to such a force of nature.
“…ocean.”
“Great. One word answers, clear sign of blood loss.”
“Throw me in the ocean so I never have to listen to you again.”
“I’ll drown the next bard we find and give him a message for you.”
“Then burn me.” Mello groaned, softly, taking solace int he fact he’d be free of Matt sooner rather than later. “Ashes in the sea.”
“So same result.”
“Shut the fuck up, or I’m killing you with me.”
“Yeah. Good luck with that.”
Matt’s laugh was hollow, and so was Mello’s chest, when he searched for what to say next.
There was nothing. He wanted to be buried in the ocean. He didn’t want to die, but he didn’t want to fight with Matt in his final moments. Fighting was for the living, what made him feel alive. He didn’t want that kind of false hope.
“…’S not gonna be the same without you.”
“Good.”
“I… really don’t want you to die, Captain.”
“Fuck. Good.” Mello huffed, inhaling the few dry grans of sand left near his face. They could take his corpse apart, and all they were going to find was saltwater and sand in place of blood. “Don’t tell them you killed me.”
“Never. You went down fighting, of course.”
“Fighting you.”
“Of course.”
Matt’s laugh was like birdsong. Unpleasant. But something Mello had learnt to enjoy, over his years at sea. A bird was a rare visitor, one of the few who would take the time to reach them.
“Shut up.”
“Yes, Capt’n.”
“Idiot. Useless excuse for a…” Mello let out a small breath, and he could feel his heartbeat going with it, because most of his blood was long gone. “For a partner. M… Matt?”
“Yes, Mello?”