Pirates of the Caribbean Oneshots

Stitches

The deck of the Troubadour was strewn with the carnage that spoke of the battle that had been raging just moments ago. Dead and dying men lay among the debris caused by cannon fire, a mess of splintered wood and severed body parts.

Lowering his still-smoking pistol, Edward Teague surveyed the damage as his gaze scanned those still standing. He was vaguely aware of a dull pain in his lower abdomen, but ignored it for the moment while searching the faces of his crew, working out where his family were.

He caught sight of a familiar figure returning to his side, sword still drawn. Blood spattered Cormac's face and chest, but his expression was free of pain as he stepped over a body to stand next to Teague.

"Alright?" Teague asked him, gaze flickering pointedly to the blood.

"Aye, alright. It's not mine. Don't think the same can be said for you though."
Cormac glanced at the dark patches of blood seeping through his captain's clothing, one eyebrow raised pointedly.

Flicking a hand dismissively, Teague sighed softly in relief at spotting two women standing together, light glinting on their drawn knives as they murmured quietly. Now he had three of his family accounted for. He winced just slightly while crossing the deck, pain starting to set in properly as adrenaline faded.

He realised that Cormac was following him and without turning his head, asked, "any sign of a little Sparrow?"

"I was too busy keeping his father out of trouble to worry about his whereabouts," Cormac quipped in reply, though his tone was laced with worry.

Cursing in Gaelic under his breath, Teague paused to turn over an injured crewmember, grimacing at the sight of the man's injuries. He rested against the railings for a second, feeling suddenly light-headed as he looked the crew over again. His hand pressed idly against his wound, coming away covered in blood.

A figure approached him, picking their way over the bodies and the debris. A soft whimper of distress was his only warning before his son was in his arms, frame trembling.

"Easy, Astóirín. It's alright, it's over now. Are you hurt?" He murmured quietly, a hand cupped protectively over the back of Jack's head, remembering that this was the first real battle his son had been on deck for. "Sshh, it's all over. You're safe. Are you injured? Astóirín, Jackie, talk to me."

Pulling back a little, he met Jack's eyes, wide and dark with panic. Jack looked down, at the blood on his shirt. "Not mine..." he said slowly and shakily. "Wasn't there bef...before I hugged you."

Teague winced, this time due to the panic and fear that flooded Jack's eyes at the realisation. "Where's your mum?" He asked quickly, trying to change the subject. "It's fine, I promise. Where's your mum?"

"Don't know..." Jack murmured shakily, shaking his head.

"Fuck sake. Jackie, go get a drink. You need it. You did brilliantly. I'm gonna find your mum."

Nodding a little, he slipped away. A minute later, Soracha appeared in front of Teague, hands on her hips. Her eyes fixed on him sternly and he flinched. "Shit."

"Shit", indeed. Go down to the surgery. Now."

"But Ro-"

"Edward Teague, if you are not in my surgery in the next five minutes, you will need my attention on many more injuries than you do currently."

Sighing softly, he went slowly down to the Troubadours immaculate surgery, suppressing the involuntary shiver that appeared every time he entered it. He undressed to show the wound, sitting quietly in his breeches and trying to ignore the pain.