Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Upon a Painted Ocean ❯ Treason ( Chapter 4 )

Upon a Painted Ocean

Chapter 4: Treason

Ken felt the clamminess of his own skin as the sultry Caribbean air stagnated around the two lone figures standing on the dock. The moon, being only half full tonight, provided enough light to illuminate part of Crawford's face, the resulting shadows highlighting a starkness in the man's expression that rivaled only the streak of cruelty buried in his gaze.

"Why are you here, Crawford?" Ken's voice came out low, and soft, but veiled an edge of wariness.

The man smiled coldly, his eyes black gems that glittered wickedly in the night. "You, of all people, should know what kind of place Port Royal is. Why wouldn't I be here?" In one smooth motion, he brought his hand up to cup the side of Ken's face and proceeded to slide his thumb gently along the brunette's cheek. "Come with me, Ken," he whispered seductively. "Back aboard the Valiant."

The words, the touch … Ken closed his eyes, seemingly frozen on the spot. The words caressed him, fluttering against his conscious and initiating a shiver that danced down his spine, and the touch … The touch of the textured thumb, tracing a path along his skin and bringing with it memories of suffocation, helplessness, and imprisonment. He had escaped … yes, he had escaped from them, just as he had escaped from Crawford. As the reality of the situation finally hit Ken, he opened his eyes and jerked his head back violently, severing the hypnotic contact that Crawford had maintained.

"No," Ken said hoarsely. "No, you don't own me anymore." He glared at the other man, venom and hate in brown eyes that had hitherto been passive and yielding.

"Oh, yes, Ken," Crawford argued calmly as he took a step toward the younger man. "Yes, I do. You belonged to me the moment I won you at the gaming table."

The former slave backed up, and brushed the other man's hand away when he tried to touch him again. "But you forfeited your winnings the moment you broke your word," Ken spat, his breaths now coming out harshly and erratically.

"I never broke my word, Ken. You did." Crawford paused as his eyes drank in the image of the defensive young man before him. His voice softened to a more enticing tone. "Don't you want to see the inside of the Valiant again? Come, Ken, join me for a drink then, not as master and slave, but as old friends."

The brunette's eyes narrowed. "We were never friends."

Crawford's lips quirked up slightly. "Defiant as always, love. This is what I've always admired about you: your fire, your stubbornness … you innocence. I never understood how you managed to stay so pure after everything you've seen. It's simply unbelievable." He leaned forward to touch Ken once more but this time, when the brunette batted his hand away, he lashed out with his other arm to cup the back of the younger man's neck and pulled him close. Before Ken had a chance to shake free, Crawford lowered his head and kissed him.

Hard, violent, possessive … Ken felt it all as the man ground their lips together and like a little boy fighting against imaginary demons, he felt helpless and weak. He had been here too many times, and he had fought too many times to not know the futility of it all. Memories, mental portraits of moments past latched onto him, chaining him again to the person he had once been - a slave, nothing more and nothing less. He hated it; he hated what he used to be. That was why he had escaped …

Escape? Freedom? Was he free? No, not yet. But it was possible. Ran had promised him freedom one day … Ran … yes, Ran had promised …

Digging up what strength still remained in him, Ken pushed himself away from the other man and stumbled back a few steps. As he tried to regain his breath, he brought his hand up to wipe Crawford's taste from his lips. That done, he raised his steady gaze toward his opponent. "Don't you ever come near me again. I was never yours and never will be."

With that, Ken turned around and ran, moving as fast as he could from the unreadable man who had once been his captor, and the damned memories that had once been his shackles.

(***)

Crawford watched, amused as his former slave ran off into the night. His eyes twinkled at the opportunity that Fate had once again thrown his way.

"No, you're wrong, Ken. You belonged to me once and you will belong to me again." He licked his lips slowly, enjoying the taste of Ken's sweetness that still lingered there.

He remembered when he had first seen the boy three years ago, all innocence and light in a world that tainted such things the moment they were born. But Ken was strong, Crawford knew, and it was this unique combination of strength and purity that had drawn him to the boy. He wanted to own it, to revel and bask in this rare essence that he had discovered. He had done everything back then to obtain him, as he would do anything now to get Ken again.

Crawford turned to face the unseen presence that had been hovering behind him in the darkness the whole time.

"Are you going to come out now, Schuldich?"

"Who was that?" the younger man asked as he approached, eyes that would have flashed green had there been more light straying in the direction Ken had ran.

"Someone before your time."

Schuldich turned his attention back to the captain of the Valiant, expecting more of an explanation but not receiving one.

"I want you to follow him, Schuldich. I want you to find out where he's staying, whom he's with and what he's doing. Report everything you can find out about him back to me, understand?"

Crawford saw the questions hovering in the other man's face, but wasn't in the mood to answer them.

"Why - ?"

"Just go, Schuldich. Follow him and find out what you can." The captain's demands pre-empted any more inquiries that the newcomer wanted to ask. Seeing that he wasn't going to get any more information, Schuldich nodded and started off in the direction that Ken had taken.

Crawford's gaze drifted toward the departing figure, a hint of burnished red indicating the distance the younger man had covered as the weak moonlight reflected off his mane of fiery hair. He had complete confidence in Schuldich's abilities; ever since that fateful day over two years ago when he had found the redhead stowed away in the hold of his ship, he had gained a loyal follower. Crawford didn't know exactly why he had let the young man stay aboard that day or why he hadn't thrown the then boy overboard and be done with it. Perhaps it had to do with something in Schuldich's eyes on the day of his discovery, an untold sense of challenge and ruthlessness that had intrigued him. Thus, he had let the redhead stay on board, not asking questions about the stowaway's past and gaining a valuable crewman in the process.

No, he had no doubts that Schuldich would find him the leverage he needed to get Ken back … none at all.

(***)

His lungs were burning. His sides were cramping. His legs were screaming. But Ken ignored his body's protests as he continued to run. He couldn't stop; he had to get away, get as far away from 'him' as he could. Hearing the grating of his own breath echo in his ears, he felt relief flood through him as the Redemption came into view. Yet, he didn't stop running until he was on board the ship, scanning the deserted decks for any signs of life to ease the inexplicable apprehension he felt.

Placing a hand against the main mast to steady himself, he noticed that he was still shaking. He needed human contact, he needed someone nearby so he didn't feel so alone, … and he needed to feel safe. He started walking up along the deck, searching for any shipmates who might have opted to stay aboard but found no one. Sighing quietly, he stopped his little quest, and realized where he was. Unknowingly, he had made his way to Ran's cabin, the wooden door hanging on its hinges waiting for him to open it. And open it he did, his hand grasping the knob like a lifeline the moment it made contact. Stepping into the room, Ken didn't even bother lighting a lamp: he knew where everything was in this cabin, its familiarity almost comforting in his uneasy state.

Struggling beams of moonlight made their way in through the windows, casting the captain's desk into a small pool of white light that ultimately ceded dominance to the encroaching darkness. It was like an island amidst a sea of black, a nicely lit sanctuary that offered surcease from the unending night. Yet, Ken didn't head toward the desk, opting instead to wander through the darkness to the captain's bed. Ran liked his luxuries: the windows, the feather mattress … and Ken didn't mind at all as he sat down on the pleasant softness. The silence, which before had been oppressing, now filled him with a sense of peace, and as his unwanted encounter with Crawford slowly receded into the depths of his mind, he laid himself down on the bed, letting the welcoming spice of Ran's scent enfold him as his head touched the pillow. He felt calmer now, less edgy, more relaxed. And when he started to drift off into sleep, he could have sworn he heard that little voice inside him say that he felt safe too.

(***)

Ken awoke to the jangling of the doorknob as someone made a clumsy attempt at opening the door. Still slightly blurry-eyed, he rose and padded over to let whoever was outside in, but was shocked into silence when Ran stumbled through the doorway, none too steady on his feet. Even in the darkness, Ken could make out the redhead's tall, lithe frame, which wound its way haphazardly toward the lamp on the desk, completely oblivious of the room's previous occupant. After several failed attempts at lighting the thing and numerous curses, Ken took pity on the man and moved to help.

"Here, let me," he said as he approached the captain. This close, he could smell the cloying scent of a woman's perfume mixed with the fermenting stench of alcohol on the redhead, and he fought hard not to gag at the offending odour. Within seconds, Ken had the lamp lit, its small flame spreading a warm glow throughout the cabin.

"I didn't need your help," grumbled Ran as he leaned against the desk for support and stared at the brunette through half-lidded eyes. "I don't need you. I could've done it alone. I do everything alone …" His words were becoming more slurred as he continued to talk and Ken knew he should get the drunken redhead to bed. He certainly didn't envy the captain when he woke up tomorrow morning.

"Come, Captain. You should get some sleep." The brunette moved to lead Ran toward the bed but was abruptly shaken off.

"Didn't you hear what I just said? I don't need your help!" With that, the older man pushed himself off the desk and attempted to walk towards his mattress. His steps were unsteady as he wove his way across the cabin. Partway there, he stumbled and Ken rushed to catch him.

"Captain, you're drunk. Let me …" The former slave paused when he felt the other man's body tense beneath his hands.

"No," the redhead said stubbornly. And then, his tone changed, becoming lighter and more taunting. "I can make it … unless … unless you'd like to join me?"

It was Ken's turn to stiffen now as he released his supporting hold on Ran.

The young captain smiled, its leering quality oddly unsettling on the usually austere man's face. "Come, Ken, Amalie wasn't nearly as much fun as I thought she'd be. And I'm not tired yet. Beside, why do you think I bought you?"

Before Ken knew what was happening, he had balled his right hand into a fist and punched the captain hard across the face. The resounding crunch that followed hung in the stillness between the two for a moment, permitting both men to soak in what had just occurred. Ken knew his action was one of complete insubordination and would undoubtedly pay for it tomorrow, but those words … he had never thought to hear them from Ran's mouth.

Instead of retaliating, Ran chuckled softly as he brought his hand up to rub his abused jaw. "Amalie may not have been able to tire me out, but I'm sure you will."

Ken suppressed an urge to hit the man again. "Go play with your whores then, Captain," Ken ground out, silently commending himself for keeping his voice so steady. "Like you said, you don't need me."

That mentioned, he made his way toward the exit, desperately wanting to get as far away from Ran as quickly as possible. Upon reaching the doorway though, he stopped. "But let me tell you one thing, Sir. I've seen too many men brought down by a single woman. I'd watch out if I were you."

He didn't stay to take in the other man's reaction. What the redhead did was his own business and had nothing to do with him. He was just a crewman, a former slave who merely obeyed a captain's orders. And that he would do, without fault. After all, it wasn't as if he cared.

(***)

The ocean stretched out endlessly into the horizon, the clear, soothing blue of the sky meeting the equally clear, reflective vastness of the sea in an almost imperceptible line. Ran watched the unchanging scene through his cabin's windows, his thoughts scattering both as high as the heavens and as deep as the ocean before him. There had been too many things to occupy his mind these past several days, the most prominent of which concerned a particularly withdrawn brunette.

It had been ten days now since that night in Port Royal, ten days of strained talk and terse commands, ten days since he'd pushed Ken away. Not being as drunk as he had pretended, he recalled that night clearly. And he remembered the look of anger and disgust on the younger man's face as he taunted and insulted. But it had accomplished what he wanted: they were just captain and crewman now, Ran giving orders authoritatively and Ken taking them obediently. Even when they had cast off two days ago, barely ten words had been exchanged between them. It was better this way, and whenever he found himself feeling inexplicably more content in the former slave's presence, he ignored it, dismissing it as if it were nothing more than a common annoyance.

A knock at his door pulled Ran from his thoughts.

"Come in," he said loudly, enough to be heard through the wood. He turned around to face the newcomer, wondering what needed his attention this time.

"Captain." Kit nodded as he walked in, easing the door closed behind him. His eyes held a serious look, a far cry from the usual merriment that glittered there. "Ran …" he continued.

The redhead tensed at the first mate's use of his given name. Whenever Kit used it, the business at hand was more of a personal nature rather than official.

"What is it, Kit?"

The older man walked further into the room, his gaze not leaving the figure of the intimidating captain. Kit was one of the very few people on this ship who dared to approach Ran like this.

"Something's wrong with you, isn't there?" the first mate asked as he stopped a few steps away.

"No, there isn't. Why do you ask?" Ran replied calmly. "Has there been something wrong with my performance as captain?"

Kit let out a small sigh. "Don't deny it, Ran. The crew may not see it but I do. I've known you since you were born, so as hard as you may try to hide it, I know when something's bothering you."

Ran turned around, returning his gaze to the sea, unable to look at his father's old friend when he knew the older man was right.

"It doesn't happen to do with a certain brunette, does it, Ran? Because he's been acting strangely these past few days as well."

"No." The denial came almost too quickly, and Ran took a breath before responding a little more slowly. "No, it has nothing to do with him, Kit. I can't be bothered with minor issues like that."

The first mate didn't answer immediately. And then, "Is it about tomorrow?"

Ran closed his eyes at the mention of the next day's significance. No, he hadn't forgotten what tomorrow was.

"Perhaps … how could I forget?" His voice was softer now, full of guilt and regret. "It'll be exactly ten years tomorrow, won't it, Kit?" He asked rhetorically, opening his eyes and swallowing the small lump that had formed in his throat.

"Ran, you shouldn't dwell on it. You were so young then …"

The captain shook is head. "No, I try not to dwell on it but there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about him."

Out of respect, Kit remained silent as he watched the defeated tilt of Ran's head. "He would have been proud of you, Ran."

The redhead smiled an empty smile. "Proud? What's there to be proud of? A coward of a son who ran away from everything he stood for?"

"But look at everything you've accomplished. Look at - "

"Yet it can't hide the truth, Kit," the younger man retorted. "For ten years, I've been running. I still am. No matter how much wealth I gain, no matter how much respect I win, I'm just a coward running away from my own crimes." Stopping for a moment, Ran turned around to face the man who had watched him grow up. "I never paid for my crimes, Kit. And that, I think, is the cruelest punishment of all."

The first mate watched the proud young captain with a heart full of sympathy and sincerity. He wanted to hold the redhead as he had used to when the latter had been a boy but now, Ran would just shrug him off.

"Ran, it wasn't your fault. You were - " He never got a chance to finish his sentence. A shout from outside followed by the sound of cannon fire brought both men back to the present.

Instantly resuming his captain's role, Ran straightened and marched out of the cabin with an impenetrable look on his face. Kit followed, still surprised at how quick the redhead could change facades even after witnessing it for so many years.

(***)

Ken was helping Tippy mend the sails when he heard the shout and the cannon fire. Almost all at once, sailors dropped what they were doing, some rushing to grab weapons while others ran to see whom the opponent was.

Ran and Kit soon walked onto the deck, the former immediately demanding a spyglass to determine the identity of the attackers. Ken felt a rush of emotions at the sight of the captain: he knew he should hate the man, especially with what he had said that night, but against his better judgment, he couldn't help but still be drawn to him, dangerous as that may be. Despite everything, Ran continued to command respect and admiration, and Ken inexplicably felt those emotions mixing vigorously with his hate, masking it out altogether.

"Should we prepare to attack, Captain?" Ken heard someone shout.

"No," came the captain's firm answer. "It's British Navy, and they just fired a warning shot. Kit, raise a white flag."

"Aye, Captain," the first mate nodded and moved to comply.

It wasn't long before the English vessel sailed up alongside the Redemption, its slightly larger size seemingly overwhelming an already formidable ship. With the speed and maneuverability the new ship had just displayed, Ken now understood how these British clippers had defeated their larger Spanish counterparts and now, dominated the seas.

The air on the Redemption was tense as the English captain, a man looking to be well into his middle years, and three of his officers boarded. Sailors with weapons tightened their hold on them and others looked ready to pounce at the smallest provocation. All were on edge and all were tempered only by Ran's restraining presence.

Ran and Kit moved down to mid-ship to meet their visitors, and Ken shoved his way close enough to hear the proceedings.

"Captain Randall Fielding?" The British captain asked with an aristocratic accent.

Ran nodded, wariness evident in his expression.

"You are hereby under arrest for treason against Her Royal Majesty, Queen Elizabeth, by the Grace of God, Queen of England, France, and Ireland, and of Virginia, Defender of the Faith."

Cries of denial, and shouts of protest rang out among the crew, some even cursing the English bastards with crudely colourful insults.

"There must be some mistake," insisted Kit as he glared at the other captain.

"Rest assured, there is none," maintained the Englishman, voice steely and strong.

"But the captain hasn't - "

"I will go with you." Ran's simple sentence cut off the rest of Kit's, and silenced the whole crew.

The first mate turned to his captain. "Captain, I …" He stopped when he saw the haunted look in the younger man's eyes. "Ran …" he whispered.

The redhead ignored him. Instead, he stared unwaveringly at the English captain. "Sir, as a man of honour, I ask that you permit my ship and crew to remain free."

The older Englishman considered the request for a moment. "I apologize, Captain Fielding but I can not allow it. However, I will place Lieutenant Smythe in charge here until we reach England, upon which time, the fate of this ship and crew will be decided."

Ran nodded, accepting this provision.

Ken watched, stunned as one of the officers produced a pair of shackles and moved to secure them around the young captain's wrists.

This wasn't right. Ran didn't … Ran didn't belong in chains.

As they began to lead the redhead back aboard the other ship, Ken pushed himself to catch up with the small procession.

"Ran!" Not Captain, or Sir, but just Ran. The name had come out of Ken's mouth before he could stop it, and yet, it had felt nice to have it roll off his tongue.

The young captain paused, and turned to meet Ken's gaze. Whatever words the brunette had wanted to say disappeared in that one look. He was tired, Ran's eyes said. Tired of what, Ken didn't know but the fire in those violet depths had died, and he suddenly found himself inwardly mourning the loss.

With a firm push from behind, Ran continued walking, and soon, the once proud captain of the Redemption was gone.

Ken stood by the rail in disbelief as the other ship cast off her hooks and began to sail away, the redheaded captain now probably firmly ensconced in her hold.

Ran didn't belong there. Just like that look of defeat didn't belong on his face. He belonged here, commanding the Redemption, confident and strong. But that last image of Ran was branded deep into Ken's mind, and he desperately needed to erase it.

Behind him, the brunette heard the British lieutenant left on board issue orders to the crew to follow the other ship but no one moved, whether out of surprise at what had just happened or out of hatred for what the Englishman represented, Ken didn't know.

Ran was gone. The phrase repeated itself over and over again in his head as he watched the English ship sail further away. Ran can't be gone …

Back stiffening and hands clenching in resolve, Ken turned around and walked purposefully toward Kit, whose stunned expression mirrored what Ken's had been just moments ago.

"Kit," Ken's voice rang out with an authority he hadn't used in years. "Prepare to set sail. I don't care if we have to break into the Tower of London or bloody beg Queen Elizabeth herself, but we're getting him out of there."

The first mate glanced at Ken with a look of surprise, and then he nodded, a small smile working its way onto his lips. Suddenly, the whole crew moved into action, preparing to chase after their captain while a flabbergasted Lieutenant Smythe stood in their midst.

End Chapter 4