Ah, shit. Here's where his stupidity got him into some serious trouble.
"And here I was, thinking we'd never get you out here that easy. Figured you'd insist on one of your little friends following behind. Luckily, you appear to be a bloody moron."
Archer, finding it hard to disagree with the man at this precise moment in time, swallowed hard and went ramrod straight, hands slowly being raised to his head in a gesture of compliance, or at least he hoped that's how it came across. He didn't want to be stabbed over a misunderstanding.
Scratch that; he wasn't overly keen on being stabbed at all, truth be told.
"Easy, I'll do whatever it is you want me to. Please just, don't hurt me."
A pair of rumbling laughs came from the men behind.
"We'll see. No promises."
"Hey," the other man laughed, "what if we chuck him now then? He wouldn't feel a thing when he hit the ground!"
Archer shook a little. He really did not want to die here.
"Sirs, I don't know what it is you want, but I promise I'll do it. Please, just, stop this."
"Oh, so you think you're in a position to start bartering, do you, boy?"
Archer closed his eyes and took a deep breath. There weren't many options open to him at the moment. If he could maybe get to his toolbox then he might be able to use something as a weapon, but that would mean somehow getting past two men who were focused on him, far bigger than he was, and wielding knives. Small knives, little more than shivs, but knives nonetheless.
"On your knees, officer."
The last word was spat as though it was an insult, and Archer obeyed as slowly as he felt he could get away with. He had no doubts in his mind that the coming events would be unpleasant, but so long as he survived it he found that he wasn't all that fussed. His survival came first at the end of the day, and his pride, dignity, self assurance, hell, almost everything else could be pushed aside and dealt with later. Right now he had to find a way to get away, fight back, or otherwise simply endure whatever was about to happen. If I could get them talking, he thought to himself, that might buy me a little more time for someone to stumble atop us. At the very least I might get some information on what's happening that I might be able to pass on to Lawrence and the others if I survive.
"Why are you targeting me, of all people? I'm just the Assistant Engineer."
"Aye," one of the men spat, "you are. Despite signing on just the same as we did, there's us slumming it down with a hundred other men, and you're up here sat at the officers mess having a whale of a time each night. I'm not even sure what you do on the ship."
"Apart from warm the Engineer's bed." The other helpfully supplied.
"The engineer? I think you're getting the wrong impression, gentlemen."
A blow to the back of his head sent him to the floor and one of the men pressed themself to his back, pinning him in place with his arms behind his back.
"Of course we are. Of course that's what you'd say. How abouts we find out if the engineer has good taste or not, eh?"
Archer's eyes widened, and he began kicking and writhing in an attempt to free himself.
"Stop it, you little shit!"
Archer threw his head back, feeling a crunch behind him as the main wailed.
"Oh, my nose!"
He roughly pulled Archer's head back by the hair.
"You'll pay for that, you little cunt!"
All of a sudden Archer was seeing stars, his face colliding at force with the walkway beneath, stunning him. His head felt like it was made of gelatine, and his nose felt hot and sticky, running with something that he vaguely recognised as blood.
Fuck, that's not good.
"Come on, boy. Let's not start getting coltish with us now. There's only one way you wormed your way into the officer's table, so lets not have you holding out on the crew."
He wanted to resist, to fight back, but he felt as though he was frozen in place. Even if one of the men had not been pinning him to the floor, he doubted he'd have found the strength of will to move. He really wanted to fight back, but there was only so much he could do in his current state. A weak flail of his legs was about all he managed before he felt the last of his strength leave him. Huh. That was fast, even for him. That blow to the head must have taken more out of him than he thought. Maybe if I just... go to sleep for a bit... it'll be over when I wake up. His eyes began to droop, his thoughts became slower, and black dots danced to and fro across his vision.
"GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HIM!"
At once his eyes shot open and the man on his back released him. Turning to look at what had happened took most of what was left of his energy, but he just about managed it in time to see Cooke barrelling towards them, the slightly pudgy man turning into a wrecking ball that barely broke stride as he picked up a wrench and slammed it into the side of the first man's head, sending him sprawling to the floor like a sack of potatoes. The man hadn't even had time to do so much as raise a hand to shield himself before he was knocked out cold.
Unfortunately the man who had been atop Archer was far faster, gripping Talon's arm mid swing and punching the kindly man in the stomach.
"Ghuh-"
Talon was doing his best to hold the man back, but the disparity between the two men was clear. Archer wasn't sure what had become of the man's knife, but was nonetheless thankful that their assailant hadn't been able to use it. He caught a glint of it on the floor behind Talon, and in a moment of clarity wondered how exactly it bloody well got there. Only for a moment though; thinking hurt at the moment.
"You even look more like a woman than the little engineer does. If I turned you around I probably wouldn't be able to tell the difference!"
Talon fell to the floor, the man tumbling on top of the chef as he attempted to wrestle the wrench away from him, Talon using it to try and keep him away.
"Get off me! Get the fuck away from us!"
Archer's gut churned. His friend had just saved him from a truly evil man, and here he was, unable to even move to begin returning the favour. He hoped Talon wouldn't hate him for his inaction, but he was still so tired, and he could barely keep his eyes open. Movement wasn't really on the table at the moment. He wanted to help Talon, he really did, truly, but he couldn't. He felt absolutely powerless as darkness began to creep in around the edges of his vision.
"Come on, you're an officer as well, aren't you? No, wait, you're that one that isn't quite an officer, but isn't quite one of us either, are you?"
Talon spat in the man's face rather than responding, which led the man to haul him up and spin him so that Cooke's back was to Archer before slamming him back down on to the walkway, pressing himself close to Archer's friend, tongue flicking out to lick his cheek.
"I'm going to enjoy wiping that constant childlike smile off your face. Forever."
There was suddenly a hand clenched in the bastard's hair, wrenching him upwards as a blade sliced a clean line in his neck. It wasn't particularly deep, it couldn't have been, not with how small the discarded knife had been, but it was deep enough.
"No. You won't"
The words were cold, almost emotionless, and the man fell slack. Blood gushed from the wound and covered Talon's face as he lay there, panting and scared. The glacier-cold gaze of Lawrence swept over both of them, Corporal Rickard in tow. The corporal, for his part, had a face like thunder and eyes that quivered with rage as they beheld the scene in front of them. His gaze turned to Archer, who flinched a little at the intensity even though the fury hadn't been aimed at him.
"Was it both of them?"
He nodded, still dazed. Rickard swallowed in response, seemingly trying to bury his anger for now. He wasn't doing a very good job.
"And they were trying too..."
The man hadn't needed to say anything else, all present knew what he was asking. Archer just weakly nodded again. Rickard's grip on the rifle Archer hadn't realised he was carrying strengthened a great deal, and if he was a little more conscious Archer would likely have realised that the marine was actively fighting the urge to put a bullet through the head of the surviving assailant.
"Right, I'll deal with him. He'll be in custody for quite some time. Will you be able to help the two of them, Mr Walker?"
"I believe so, Mr Rickard. If possible, may I ask-"
"For guards? You'll have them. Two men stationed outside your doors. The men under the command of my uncle may seem unruly at times, but they're extremely disciplined. If I may be so bold as to suggest that Mr Cooke remains with you in your quarters until the remaining unrest is sufficiently extinguished, that would make guarding the three of you a lot easier."
Lawrence had just nodded, any protests he may have once had about sharing a room with Talon visibly fleeing from his lips as he took one look at the bloodied, trembling man in front of him.
"Of course. If that is what will keep Talon safe, and more importantly, if he will be comfortable with this arrangement, then I will consent to this plan. Archer's room is next to my own, as you know, so a pair of marines should be fine to keep us safe. I trust your uncle will have no objections to this idea?"
The corporal scoffed and shook his head.
"My uncle will turn to a cold fury when he hears of this. You of all people know how dangerous a cold fury is, Lawrence."
The engineer locked eyes with the marine, an unspoken conversation that Archer couldn't hope to follow in his current state, a visual cacophony overstimulating his sight as black dots continued to dance before his eyes.
"Come on up, lad. Let's get you down to be looked at."
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Archer blinked twice, unmoving.
"Lawrence?"
"Yes, it's me. It's Lawrence. Are you alright?"
Archer made to move, but his legs were still uncooperative. There was an ache on the back of his head, and he raised a hand to it. Warm and sticky. He knew what that meant. He wasn't sure how he'd gotten that. Perhaps it was from when he was hit in the back of the head. Had he been hit on the back of the head? It was hard to remember at the moment.
He drew his hand away, looked at the red appendage, and then shakily turned to Lawrence. His mentor froze for a second before picking him up, settling him on his back.
"Can you hold on, Archer?"
Archer did his best to nod his head and gave a lazy grunt in affirmation, doing his best to hang on.
"Alright, you'll be alright soon. And if either of you think I'm ever letting you out of my sight again, then you're mad."
"Okay."
Cooke's response was quiet and watery, but still somehow a little amused. Lawrence bent down and picked the man up, carrying him bridal style. Archer was sure he'd have been able to come up with a witticism about this, had he not been so busy trying to keep himself on the man's back.
"Rickard?"
The corporal turned, unconscious man in his grasp as he looked back at Lawrence.
"You sure you don't need help?"
Lawrence shook his head and ignored the man's question.
"You'll get topside before me. When you do, send runners to the other officers. Tell them to meet us at the table. We'll be there soon."
The man nodded at Lawrence, a hard-set look in his eyes that Archer could only just make out as he swayed to and fro on Lawrence's back. Lawrence would get him to safety, then he'd make sure Archer and Talon were healed. That was what friends did for each other, wasn't it? Helped them when they were in need?
Archer was very glad to have a friends as good as Lawrence and Talon. Brave Talon, who, despite his own fears, had not hesitated to leap into action and save Archer from a fate he did not dare think about. He may have thought himself to be little more than a chef and a coward, not even a true officer, but Archer was certain that Talon was the bravest one of them all.
----------------------------------------
Lawrence carried the two of them to the mess hall, which seemed to double up as a medical chamber at this point, ignoring the stares that the three of them received from the deckhands coming the other way. The corporal was stood at the door, stony-faced and eyes set.
"Are they all inside?"
The man looked at the still bloody forms of Archer and Cooke, but said nothing of them, instead turning his gaze back to the engineer holding them.
"Aye, they are. How do you want to do this?"
Archer found himself being gently lowered from Lawrence's back, an arm being slung around the shoulders of the corporal to keep him upright.
"Talon? Talon, I need you to wake up, dearest."
"Humph... Lawrie?"
Cooke's eyes drowsily opened and closed a few times, eventually settling on the man carrying him.
"Yes, it's me. Can you stand up?"
The man slowly, sluggishly, got to his feet. His legs shook a little, but he remained upright. The man reached a hand towards the engineers as he spoke.
"I had a bad dream again, Lawrie."
The man scrunched his face up, looking more like a child than the twenty-something year old man he actually was.
"It wasn't a dream, was it?"
Something in Lawrence's face softened at those words, and he turned to the corporal, who was stood there awkwardly.
"Come on, lets get the two of you cleaned up."
"Yourself as well, Petty Officer." Rickard added. "There's blood coating you as well."
Lawrence nodded towards the doors to the mess.
"All in due time, Corporal. All in good time."
The four men entered the mess and made their way towards the officer's table, Talwynn and the sergeant both rushing to help Cooke and Archer as they noticed the states they were in. Archer sat in the proffered chair, allowing himself to slump a little as medical supplies were brought out from... somewhere. He wasn't really paying attention, to be honest. Normally he'd never be caught dead with such poor posture, but he still felt extremely tired.
"Not yet, Mr Haywood. You haven't my permission to sleep until your wounds have been tended to."
Archer nodded in the direction that his mentor's voice had came from, but he wasn't really concentrating on where exactly he was looking. The blackness was still creeping in at the corners of his vision, so he was more focused on actually carrying out the man's order to stay awake than he was on letting the man know that he'd heard it.
Blood was cleaned from his forehead and hands, and a bandage was wrapped from his forehead to about halfway down the back of his head in a ,manner similar to the way a bandana might be. A few of the serving boys had come over to peer at Cooke, likely knowing him at least on the surface level quite well, since he was their boss. They'd been quickly, though not too sternly, shooed away by the sergeant.
"There are guards outside the engineer's quarters, Lawrence. My nephew told me what was going on, and I don't mind saying it took a lot out of me not to bayonet the survivor where he stood. He's in the brig at the moment, and there he'll stay till we next make port. We'll throw him off there, leave him to make his own way home."
Lawrence nodded at the man, his eyes hardly leaving Talon as he cleaned the blood from the man's face with a wet rag and a bucket of warm water.
"Good. Don't let me see him again. I don't know what I'll do if his presence is made known to me a second time."
Talwynn whistled a noise that suggested she was impressed by Lawrence's bloodlust, or hungry for some of it herself. Either way, she was clearly waiting for Lawrence to say something in particular, even if she wouldn't hint at it. Archer could just about make out an incredulous eyebrow raise that she aimed at Lawrence.
"What?"
She gestured towards the portrait of the captain in the mess, speaking softly but not at all warmly.
"You know what. You know exactly what I'm talking about."
Lawrence followed her gaze towards the portrait, and then froze for a second.
"You think... I..."
She nodded, and Archer watched as Lawrence looked around at each of the assembled officers, waiting for a response from each. Whatever he saw in each of them, he clearly wasn't comfortable with it.
"I see."
Talwynn groaned.
"You see? Okay, how about a yes or a no to my question instead of that? Is that so much to ask for?"
"Have some manners, Petty Officer. There are more important things on my mind at the moment. You will have your answer by the time we are finished here."
Talwynn had always been impatient, but even she seemed to find the request for a little time reasonable. Archer gradually felt himself becoming more wakeful as time went by, but he still wasn't lucid enough to understand exactly what it was they were talking about, to follow the unspoken parts of their conversation.
"I take it the men under your command can be trusted?"
Sergeant Owen nodded sternly.
"They'll follow me, of that you needn't worry. If I tell them to jump, they'll ask 'how high'. If I tell them to break regulation..."
"We'll ask 'which one', sir."
The sergeant smiled at his nephew.
"Aye, just like your father. You want us to get them ready?"
Lawrence shook his head.
"Not yet. I haven't decided yet. You'll know by the time we're done here, as I said. It's a big decision to make that I shouldn't undertake while emotionally compromised."
Sergeant Owen nodded whilst Talwynn scoffed. Archer sat upright, correcting his posture with a groan.
"Come now, Mrs Trenholm. Whatever it is Mr Walker is to decide, whatever you're all talking about, it'll be with our best interests in mind. If a stoic mind is what he believes he needs to best make that decision, then that is what we should let him have."
Talwynn looked away, embarrassed and admonished. Archer didn't think too much on it; from what he'd seen of her these last few weeks, this last month, she wasn't exactly renowned for her patience. He'd been told that she was much the same when on the guns, but in a situation where you wanted to be firing as many volleys as possible in as short a time as normal he supposed that impatience might actually be a virtue.
"Of course, Archer. Sorry, Lawrence."
Lawrence nodded at her.
"Think nothing of it. We're all in this together now. We have to be, if I'm to make this decision for us. Archer, Talon, are the two of you all right?"
He nodded his affirmations. He didn't exactly feel like he was up for any heavy work right now, but he didn't feel as though he were about to pass out any more, so he would count that as an improvement.
"Yeah, I'm alright. A little shaken up, though. Talon, what about you?"
The man was silent for a few seconds, his voice a little shaky.
"I think I'm alright. I will be, anyway. My head hurts a little but I don't feel icky like I did earlier."
Lawrence nodded, looked around, saw how empty the room was, and turned back to face the other officers.
"May I speak alone with the two of them for a moment?"
Understanding sprung into the eyes of the Rickards, who nodded and left the room. Talwynn followed behind with a little smile and wave back, which Archer, of course, returned. Lawrence watched as the last of them left, then turned back to face the two injured men.
"We have the room now."
He sighed and ran a bloodied hand through his hair. It hadn't occurred to Archer that, despite Talon and himself being cleaned off, Lawrence hadn't wiped the blood off of himself.
"Were they... were they going to do what I think they were going to do? Truly?"
Archer found that no words would come to his mouth, so he just nodded gravely. Lawrence stood, eyes as blue and cold as glacial sapphires, and clenched his fists.
"Would I be wrong to assume that this is, at the very least in part, the result of poor morale and rising frustration towards the officers amongst the crew?"
Archer remained still a long moment before realising that Lawrence was asking the two of them a question. Talon didn't seem like they'd be answering either, so he just nodded once more. Lawrence ground his teeth together, face twitching.
"As captain he should have known better! To let things fall this far... I've tolerated the abuse he has subjugated my home to for years now, but this is too far. For this to have happened on his watch... I've had enough."
Cooke reached out and placed a hand on one of Lawrence's fists, doe-eyes looking up at the engineer, and seemingly in an instant Lawrence's anger melted away. He sat back down on the bench he'd just gotten up from, and slouched forwards.
"I had hoped this day would never come, you know."
His voice was a whisper, barely enough to carry the noise from his mouth, and in that moment Archer realised just how tired the man sounded.
"I hoped that he'd realise what he was doing. That he'd wake up one day and better himself. That my home wouldn't be put in danger because of his actions."
There was silence for a few long seconds, and Archer watched as Cooke moved their hand from Lawrence's knuckles to the man's shoulder. Lawrence gave him a tired smile.
"Yeah, I know. Hope is a dangerous thing to have. But we need it nonetheless."
Cooke smiled at him, still wordless, and Archer suddenly felt aware of just how much history the two of them had shared, how many inside jokes and words of wisdom passed back and forwards that only the two of them knew.
"I'm ready to make my choice."
Talon seemed to find their voice, scratchy though it may have been, and spoke up.
"Are you sure, Lawrence?"
Lawrence smiled, shaking his head.
"No, I'm not. But I need to do this. I can't let this happen again. I can't let the two of you get hurt because of his stupidity again. I'm putting a stop to this."
The man turned and looked back at the door.
"You can come back in now!"
Archer put two and two together, and smirked at his boss.
"What happened to 'not making a decision whilst emotionally compromised'?"
Cooke flicked his forehead in admonishment, but remained silent. Something big was about to happen.
The three other officers walked back into the room, looking at the three of them expectantly. The silence was not quite tense, but it was far from being relaxing or comfortable. It was, for the lack of a better term, expectant. When Lawrence did eventually break the silence, he spoke only three words. Bloodied and with an almost haunted countenance, the engineer set his face to stone and spoke the three words that the other officers must have been waiting to hear for years now.
"I'll do it."
An ecstatic smile came across the face of Talwynn, and she practically bounced from foot to foot. If he hadn't come to know her as well as he had these last few weeks, Archer would have assumed that she was simply excited to take part in the bloodshed. Whilst Talwynn seemed almost giddy, the Owens did not. They seemed to agree more with Lawrence, that this would be a necessary evil and not something they would enjoy, if the grimaced smiles plastered across their faces were anything to go by. The two of them nodded at him, almost as one, and the elder of the two asked for no more than thirty minutes to ready their men. As they made to leave a runner came in, one of the marines unless Archer was mistaken, who ran straight to Lawrence.
"Pardon for interrupting sir, but it's the captain; you're to go and see him in his chambers at once, alone."
There was a tense silence, broken only when Lawrence nodded.
"Alright."
Corporal Owen looked at him, baffled.
"Alright? Lawrence, if the man's somehow caught wind of this already-"
"Then I'll be fine. Ready yourselves in the meantime and wait on deck when you are. You'll know when to act."
Archer spoke up, looking for clarification.
"Will there be a signal?"
Lawrence smirked at him.
"Something like that, yes. Trust me, you'll know when to act. You'll know."
With that he grabbed the pistol from the belt of the marine, stuck it next to the belt-knife he had acquired from somewhere, Archer wasn't exactly sure on that one, and then strode out of the room.
A dull pain in his hand stopped him from getting lost in thought, and he looked down to see Talon gripping his hand so hard it seemed as though the man might break it. Upon following Archer's gaze the man apologised, loosening his grip a little. It was still tight, but not unbearable now.
"Sorry, Archer. I'm just worried."
Archer made to speak, but Talwynn cut him off.
"Don't be. He's Lawrence fucking Walker; if anyone can manoeuvre their way though this shit heap of a situation, it's him."
An almost feral smile formed on her face, eyes taking on a dangerous and almost mad tinge.
"Now come on, you heard his orders! We've got a mutiny to prepare for."