Never Saw You Coming (Spot Conlon x Reader)

Showdown

Cold. His first conscious thought after going under. The water is cold. And the cold sends a shock to his brain, causing him to nearly lose his grip on the knife in his hand. The knife. Your knife. The fingers of his left hand grab at the ropes surrounding him, trapping him, holding him down. How to get out. That's what he needs to find. A way out. But the cold is distracting. And his lungs are aching. And that is distracting. And Spot feels himself sinking, and he can do nothing to stop it. He sees the knife, held as if it was in someone else's hand. Your knife. He can almost hear you, your voice telling him, don't give up. Come back. Come back to me. It gives him energy. He seizes the rope in one hand and slices through it with the knife. One fiber, one strand, one link at a time through the net, until he can squeeze through the hole. He rockets out of the net. But which way is up? The sun. The sun is above him. He goes towards the sun, lungs aching, the most they ever have, until he breaks the surface. Air, sweet, sweet, air. Still, he mustn't be too loud. Or they'll hear him on the ship. And he won't be able to save you. He can hear what's happening onboard. He can hear you crying, awful sobs that he would give anything to put an end to.  And he hears screams, and yells, but he doesn't know what's happening. He huddles, holding himself up on the anchor chain, just above the waters edge, and breathes. Waiting, trying to catch his breath, and waiting until he is strong enough to help you.

Rough hands yank you backwards from the railing. You don't even fight back, your eyes fixed on where Spot went down. The water looks horrible. A sight that you would have loved, looking cool and refreshing, an exciting prospect with Spot by your side, now looked dreadful and terrifying. Tears run freely down your cheeks. Gone. How could he be gone? You turn to the rest of the ship, searching their faces. Blink is distraught. His mouth is open, his eyes filling with unashamed tears. His friend, his leader, his brother, gone. Pulitzer is shocked. Did it really work? Is his nemesis truly gone? Soon a triumphant, ugly light dawns in his eye, the same that is in Oscar and Morris'. Then you look at Wendy. She is stock still, her brown hair whipping around in the breeze underneath the stupid tricorn hat she boasted. Her eyes are fixed on the empty air where Spot was just seconds ago. You and Blink are forced towards the mast again, too much in shock to do anything about it. 

Pulitzer takes a step towards Wendy, and she whirls on him, her eyes filled with fury. "This wasn't- this wasn't how it was supposed to go!" She screams at him, shock etched into every inch of her face.

"But you see why it had to happen." Pulitzer says, remarkably calmly for someone who just ordered the murder of a boy.

"No!" Wendy draws a sword from somewhere- her nightgown's belt has a sheath attached now- and thrusts it at Pulitzer. Pulitzer deflects the blade easily, and Wendy draws hers back more in control now. Now it is her turn to parry Pulitzer's attack, and she is remarkably adept as she forces Pulitzer backwards, the small girl filled with rage. But then she slips, a slight quavering of the hand, and Pulitzer bats her sword away. Morris seizes her, having finished securing you and Blink to the mast along with the young Darling boys. Soon Wendy is tied next to you. 

You stare directly ahead, trying to ignore your feelings towards her as she sobs quietly. 

"This wasn't how it was supposed to go." Wendy wept.

"Now." Pulitzer began, but he was interrupted by something large, round and brown that fell from the sky and landed at his feet. He jumped backwards in shock as the coconut rolled past him. Pulitzer stared at it for a second before dawning comprehension showed on his face, and he looked up- just as a ripe mango came falling and splattered down directly onto his upturned face.

"Heya Y/N. Blink. Youse two got yourselves in a pickle here." Race said, landing in front of you with a trademark grin and a knife in hand. He quickly cut your bonds, before noticing the tear tracks on your faces. "What happened?" His joking demeanor gone in a second.