#We're going to pretend that Dipper somehow got Bill's vessel to reach out for him before he was sucked back into the mindscape even though

[gobblewanker]

The Mystery and The Isosceles

Ch 9: Gold and Gunpowder

 Next>

Also on AO3

He hadn't expected it to look so unremarkable.

Maybe it was childish and unrealistic, but some part of Dipper had expected Bill to choose a more… Thematic location. They'd been sailing to where the ransom note for the governor's daughter had said to meet for about two days, and in that time, Dipper had somehow gotten it in his head that it would be somewhere grand like in the legends and storybooks: An impressive and exotic backdrop to a dramatic battle. 

It was just a small uninhabited cay.

The thick reef and shallow waters around it made approach difficult though, so maybe that was the point—creating choke points and limiting approaching vessels to only a few options. They were coming in quietly from the other side of where The Isosceles' imposing silhouette stood against the starry sky. So far there was no sign that an alarm had been raised. On the shore the light of a bonfire shone, flickering through the night. If he strained he could see people. The sun had gone down an hour or two ago, but the air was still stiflingly hot.

Mabel and Dipper were supposed to stay onboard The Mystery. Stan had been perfectly clear about that. It wasn't safe for them to come, he'd argued. It was risky enough that they were with him on the ship, he refused to let them anywhere near Bill. Perhaps unsurprisingly, they hadn't obeyed. They hid at the back of one of the rowboats ferrying the crew the last bit the ship couldn't travel. It was maybe not a good decision, but it was a unanimous one.

"Goodbye, ship." Mabel whispered under her breath as her and Dipper got under a tarp on the boat being lowered into the water.

It looked like almost everyone was going. There was going to be a fight, it was almost guaranteed. Numbers were necessary.

"Okay." Stan—it sounded like Stan, but none of the boats had their lanterns lit and it was hard to see—spoke quietly. "Here is what we're going to do…"

Stan spoke hurriedly and quietly as the boats floated through pitch black water that somewhere on the horizon became inky sky. You could hardly tell the two apart, both were just dark and the stars above reflected the same below. It felt like rowing through space.

"They're expecting someone to come hand over that tapestry junk Bill wanted, so we're going to send someone forward pretending like they're doing just that. While they're distracted, the rest of us encircle them. There's slopes around where they've set up shop; we'll wait there in the brush to ambush."

Nobody raised any protests, but the unspoken question of who'd play bait hung in the air. After a full minute of silence, Fiddleford spoke up.

"Fair e'nuff. I'll go."

"What? No. If Ford's still around, he'll kill me if I let you do that."

"'S only logical. They might recognize ya lot. Ah'm a fresh face." He shrugged. "Well—metaphorically."

Stan paused, sighed, and nodded.

"Alright. Let's keep moving."

The last stretch to reach the shoreline was tense, but soon enough their feet hit white sand with no opposition. There was already a small boat pulled up on the shore, but no people in the immediate proximity. Sounds of cheers and laughter and slurred singing drifted in between the trees and down the beach. Mabel and Dipper snuck around the back of the group making sure to keep behind their taller crewmembers and away from Stan, Soos, and Wendy.

"I don't get it. There should be a lookout." Soos scanned the area around them with sharp and alert eyes.

"I've got your lookout right here." Stan said, pushing some kind of tall bladed plant out of the way with the blunt edge of his sword. Half underneath the foliage was a man laying prone. Stan wrinkled his nose. "He's out cold and smells like cheap rum."

"Huh. Got a pretty nasty bump on his head too." Wendy pointed out.

"Probably hit a rock when he passed out drunk. Someone tie him up just to be safe and let's keep moving."

Moving through the short stretch of forest until they reached their vantage point, again, went shockingly smoothly. For the first time, the kids got to see Bill—the terrifying boogeyman from their grandfather's stories—with their own two eyes.

Dipper had expected an old man. Intimidating, yes, but grey and wrinkly. This guy was supposed to have been a captain since their great uncles' time after all. But Bill didn't look old. He looked thirty, maybe forty at most. His hair was still a pale brown without a hint of white and he stood tall and straight. He laughed sharply at something said, and Dipper saw metal glinting in his mouth. The gold false eye reflected the fire's glow, the x shaped scar around it almost looked fresh.

He recognised the woman seated next to him drinking and talking as the one that had been in charge of the ship when Dipper and Mabel had seen it the first time. A bit further away, pouring over some old parchment in the light of the bonfire and only occasionally injecting something into the conversation, was a man with a monocle and diamond shaped face. He looked more well-kempt than his two companions, his clothes were prim and his face unscarred. He could have been an aristocrat, or at least some kind of official. The three of them sat just far enough from the rest of the crew to mark them as more important. All of them seemed relaxed. The atmosphere was confident and jovial. They were just people. Bad people, but still. He'd somehow expected them to be more.

It was almost disappointing.

There was a girl with blond hair and an extravagant purple dress tied to a tree where the flickering light faded to darkness. She looked understandably upset and scared, but not injured. Dipper noted with some relief that Stan had been right; she was unharmed.

“Ah reckon that’s her?” Fiddleford said mostly to himself, standing up with his expression set in a determined scowl. “Poor lass. Those people ‘ave no souls.”

“Hang on.” Stan grabbed the edge of Fiddleford's vest, stopping him. He reached into his jacket. “Pistol.” He stated simply, handing the weapon over. “There’s no time to reload in the heat of battle. You have one shot.”

Fiddleford nodded, accepting the pistol and hiding it under his beard. He walked off through the brush, leaving them waiting in tense quietness. The other crew was still making a ruckus without a care in the world beneath the slope, but it was meaningless background noise just as much as the waves and the occasional seagull’s screech was. Circling around to avoid drawing attention to the hiding crew, Fiddleford walked out from the trees a bit further down. On one side, the jungle incline flanked the campsite. On the other waves lapped the beach.

He coughed into a hand, cutting through the singing and laughing like a knife. Bill and the woman turned to regard the newcomer along with most of the crew, but the upper class looking man remained facing the other way—picking up the slack for the others’ faltering vigilance.

“Ah… I was sent to collect the girl.” Fiddleford spoke, standing straight and making an effort to collect himself and minimise the accent.

“Were you now?” Bill smiled lazily, and Fiddleford had to fight to keep his dinner down as he stared into the same cold gold and steely-grey eyes that had haunted his nightmares for thirty years. He’d never thought he’d see Bill again. He’d hoped he never would. But now the devil was back right in front of him, and he felt like he was twenty-something again; standing on deck watching Ford be dragged to his death.

“Yes.”

His hands shook, screaming for the weapon he’d been given. He refused them. The others were counting on him to keep up the facade until they had an opening. A child’s life was on the line. None of that was worth sacrificing for short-sighted revenge.

“Do we attack?” Wendy whispered.

Stan ground his teeth. “Wait. We want their focus elsewhere. Bill and Pyronica might be easy enough to distract by shaking a shiny new toy in front of them, but Kryptos is still on edge.” He sighed. “Damn it. I guess someone had to be their self preservation instinct.”

What kind of names were ‘Pyronica’ and ‘Kryptos’? Dipper thought to himself as he nervously watched the exchange happening below. He risked moving a bit closer to the front of the group to get a better look at what was going on.

"Alright, I think we- What the hell are you doing here!" Dipper flinched as Stan's voice abruptly rose from the earlier whisper. He cringed, turning to see the older man staring directly at him with wide furious eyes.

"Shit." Wendy said.

"Okay! I-I know we weren't supposed to-!" Dipper's pitch rose and cracked as he raised his hands placatingly. "But we couldn't just stay on the ship while you all-"

A sound like thunder crackled, loud and harsh enough to make their ears ring. The gunshot missed Stan’s head by an inch. Looking back, Fiddleford was grappling with Bill for a pistol as the surrounding crew were quickly growing alarmed.

“Well that’s just great.” Stan growled. “Get your sister, get back on board, and stay there. Everyone else, attack!” Before Dipper could object, Stan vaulted over the small hill with the others close behind, and the confused alarm grew into a messy fight in a matter of seconds.

Stan landed surprisingly smoothly for his age and immediately started down to Bill and Fiddleford. Fiddleford managed to pull Bill’s pistol out of his hands (Stan would have to thank him for the save later) and struck the side of his head with the handle. It stunned him very briefly, but by the time Stan was able to get to them Bill had shrugged off the blow and was retaliating. Stan got in between, stopping the slash with his own blade.

“Apparently-” Stan shouted over his shoulder as he engaged Bill. “-You’ve got three kids to worry about.

Fiddleford’s eyes widened as he followed the direction Stan crooked his head in and spotted the shades of two small forms in the trees. For a second he faltered, looking between Pacifica and the twins, before deciding Pacifica was in more immediate danger.

Good, if Fiddleford focused on getting the kids out, Stan could focus on Bill.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wendy engage Kryptos and Soos fight Pyronica. He almost wished he could spare a second to watch. He was proud of the both of them. But trying to keep Bill back took all his attention. The man fought viciously and with no hesitation, like he had no regard for his own life, like he enjoyed the pain. He grinned through stabs and slashes. He didn't even blink.

The recklessness made him all the more dangerous, but it was also the only reason Stan got any openings at all.

The clanging of their two swords was almost lost to all the other noise, like just two instruments in one giant loud, disorderly, orchestra. There was clashing steel, pinging bullets, screams and shouts. It was chaotic. They'd been prepared for a fight, but they'd expected to have the element of surprise. Bill's crew had them outnumbered and outgunned.

"Look at you running that aristocrat asshole's errands! You a good little lapdog now?" Bill ducked a sword swing, but Stan managed to elbow him in the face on the backstroke. Bill stumbled back, swaying like the walking dead, before steadying and looking back up. Blood ran from his already half-destroyed nose. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Your brother learnt to obey too eventually."

The mention of Ford made Stan's blood boil, but that was exactly what Bill wanted. Goading him into lashing out predictably. He wanted to snap back, rub Bill's face in the truth of Ford's survival. But all that would do was paint a target on his back, wherever he was. Instead, he charged forwards with a roar. Fighting close quarters was even riskier, but he acted on instinct and gut feeling. It was a flurry of blows and blood from both sides. Neither man seemed to notice the crowd around them starting to disperse. Bill ducked again, but this time he used the motion to sweep Stan's legs, making him fall hard on his back.

Damn his distraction.

The air was knocked out of his lungs, and before he could catch his breath the pointed edge of a sword was at his throat. It really wasn't fair Bill was still that nimble, he should be an old man too.

He should.

"You know, we were having a perfectly enjoyable evening before your rabble interrupted." Bill was panting through the exertion. "The least you could have done was bring me my tapestry."

"Fuck you." Stan coughed, spitting bloody saliva onto the sand in front of Bill's shoe.

Out of nowhere, something hit Bill's face. A rock bounced off, landing between them. Bill stared furiously past Stan, before his face split open into an inhumanly wide smile. Blood dripped into his eyes from a cut under the messy hair across his temple.

"Cute kid." Bill breathed. Dipper had managed to tear a hand free despite Fiddleford's desperate attempt to keep all three children under control. "How much 'd you have to pay his mom to let you sleep with her?"

He was knocked over suddenly by a blur of colour crashing into his legs. Stan froze, as he realized the shape just an arms reach from Bill was Mabel.

"Leave them alone!" She yelled defiantly. Bill had dropped his sword when she knocked him over, but before Stan could even get back on his legs he'd pulled a knife from somewhere in his vest.

A final pang of a pistol rang clear and Bill screeched inhumanly, dropping the knife and grabbing his bleeding arm. Fiddleford had let go of Dipper. Instead, both his hands held the flintlock Stan had handed him at the start.

"I was aiming for the heart." He said, almost in disbelief.

"I don't think he has one."

Stan got to his feet and pulled Mabel back, but before he could land another blow at Bill a much louder and deeper explosion resonated across the shore. A cannonball hit the beach, spraying sand everywhere. Each of the adults ducked to shield the kids as more and more deafening canonfire sounded. The air turned thick and unbreathable with dust, birds screamed and trees splintered and fell.

When the barrage finally cleared, Bill was nowhere to be seen. The Isosceles was disappearing onto the horizon.

"Captain!" Someone screamed, but Stan couldn't tell who through the ringing in his ears.

"Captain! The ship is sinking!"

Stan stared out across the water, his heart dropping like an icy rock into his stomach, as he watched The Mystery, the ship that had been his home for thirty years, sink beneath the waves.

In stunned silence, the crew watched their ship go under. Like ghosts, they moved through the haze of shock and disbelief to count their losses and save what supplies they could. The sand was saturated with blood and shrapnel, yet somehow, the most poignant loss was The Mystery. The ship vanished, riddled with holes from cannonballs and carrying memories and hopes. Wendy and Soos had practically grown up in its wooden hull. The room at the front with its fabric covered ceiling and the soft bunkbed was the first real home Dipper and Mabel had known since Sherman died. All of it was gone just like that, only to ever again be inhabited by fish and coral.

They were stranded. Practically, everyone knew that should be the biggest concern. But the pressing danger felt unreal. All of it felt unreal. It felt like floating, lost and unmoored.

The rest of the crew took inventory of what they had immediately on them, and what they might be able to get from their surroundings. Somewhat miraculously, both Gompers and Waddles managed to swim ashore from the sinking vessel. So Mabel sat with her back against a tree with the pig on her lap, hiding her tears against the animal's side. Dipper sat shoulder to shoulder with her, looking out over the dark empty water where there should have been a ship. Mabel could feel him trembling all the way through his arm into hers.

"It's my fault." He whispered. "We finally had a home again, and I blew it."

Mabel shook her head vehemently, but her voice was too unsteady to answer.

"Don't beat yourself up." Stan collapsed to sitting in the sand next to them. His voice was thin. He sounded old and tired. "I guess it's a good thing you two weren't onboard after all."

"I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "She… She was just a ship. What matters is we're alive."

He was back to square one. No ship, no hope, and no closer to finding what became of Ford. The only thing that had gone their way was that Pacifica was alive and well, if shaken. Maybe she sensed the dire situation too, because she surprisingly neither bothered them nor complained.

As if to just rub salt in the wound, by the time day broke another ship appeared on the horizon.

At first, spotting the ship had sent everyone into a frenzy of fight or flight—expecting it to be The Isosceles returning to finish the job. But it soon became clear it wasn't. The ship was far smaller than the imposing galleon would have been, closer to The Mystery in size. 

Stan recognized the ship first, and it made him want to punch something.

"Why hello there!" Gideon's nasally voice drifted out over the sad sight. "Looks like you have gotten yourselves into quite the predicament, I do say."

"What do you want, you little troll?" Stan huffed at him. Irritated, but sounding markably defeated.

"My, there's no need to be so hostile!" Gideon put a hand to his chest dramatically. "We just happened to be sailing by when we spotted that there campfire smoke and figured you folks might need a hand. Such a shame we can't help criminals, but I'm sure my captain'd be willing to make an exception for the most junior members of your crew."

Mabel felt the bile rise in her throat at the expression Gideon very pointedly aimed at her. She saw Stan tense and clench his fists.

"'Course, someone has got to get these lovely ladies back to port, and I suppose the boy could come too. You sure as gitout ain't getting the credit for freeing Miss Northwest if you don't even have a ship to bring her back with."

Stan glared furiously at Gideon, like he wanted to yell back something foul. But then the air went out of him and he said in a very small voice:

"Go with him."

"What?" Dipper cried. "No way, we can't just leave you guys!"

"Look, kid, I can't look after you. This was stupid of me, so just… Go back to port. I'm sorry."

"No!" He answered. "We finally have family again! We can't just-"

"Let's go." Mabel said resolutely, staring at the ship with a hard gaze. Dipper turned to her stunned.

"You're kidding."

"Listen to your sister." Stan said numbly, refusing to look at either of them. "Maybe you can stay with Tate for a bit, or… Hell, maybe the Northwest's will let you work the manor when you come home with their kid. It's better than being shipwrecked with the rest of us."

Pacifica walked ahead of them with her head held high, helped onto the ship by one of the sailors. Dipper followed Mabel in a haze. Soos and Wendy stared at them sadly, but neither objected. Stan didn't say anything more. Not even goodbye.

They were losing their family all over again.

Mabel stood with her brother and the other girl—Pacifica—down in the brig of the very same blue ship she'd admired back in port and mentally berated herself for having ever thought of it as pretty. She hugged herself slouched against the wall while one of the sailors locked them in; a safety precaution the captain had insisted on. Her breathing began to pick up, remembering the last time she'd been locked in a merchant ship's brig, but this time she wasn't alone.

This time, she had a plan.

As soon as they were alone, she turned to Dipper. But he beat her to it.

"What was that about? I thought you were the one who was all for this piracy and swashbuckling junk, but you agreed to leave Stan and the others just like that!" His voice fell. Not accusatory, not really, but hurt and almost betrayed. "I don't understand."

"Remember what Stan told us?" She countered, looking intently at the door. "That so long as the sails aren't furled and the anchor's not dropped three people can sail a ship?"

Dipper's eyes widened with understanding.

"You want us to steal their ship?" Pacifica interrupted them.

"No." Mabel answered. "The naval term is commandeer."

"How?" Dipper asked. Not in the doubting sense. Not in a matter of 'what are you thinking?', but as a genuine 'what do we do?'. His brows furrowed and lips quirked with the same intensely thinking expression he adopted whenever a word in Ford's journal had him stumped.

"You expect the three of us to fight the entire crew?" Pacifica said, and her voice was genuinely disbelieving. She looked at them with disapproval. "Maybe you two aren't above starting brawls and robbing people like a pair of common racketeers, but I'm a proper lady."

"A proper lady who'd rather get carted home like a fancy bargaining chip?" Dipper asked, and she turned to him furiously.

"How dare you!"

"We just need you to get us out of here, Pacifica." Mabel said pleadingly. "We'll take care of the rest."

"Again; how?"

"You make them let you out of here and steal a key when they're not looking." Mabel continued at Pacifica. "You come back and let us out."

"And how do you expect me to do that?" She pinched her nose in annoyance, gesturing resignedly at the twins.

"Throw a fit and get them to let you out. You're the governor's daughter, you're not supposed to be stuck in the brig, you're supposed to—I don't know—be dining with the captain or something!"

"Seriously?"

"Yes!"

"Then?" Dipper asked before it could turn into a fight.

"Then—you remember all that fancy equipment Soos showed us? You sabotage the sounding rod-"

"The what?" Pacifica butted in again. Mabel waved her away but explained nonetheless.

"It's a pipe that runs through the ship that you can sound to see if there's flooding. Plug the openings, fill the pipe, it'll sound like the ship is sinking." Dipper lit up with understanding, nodding enthusiastically. "I'll sneak into the storeroom and start a small fire. The smoke and the instrument readings will make them assume the ship is going under and they need to evacuate. I'll convince Gideon." She grimaced.

Pacifica stared blankly at the two of them.

"You guys just… Do stuff like this? Casually?"

"Never to this scale, but being homeless orphans kind of means you have to get sneaky." Dipper replied. Mabel slung an arm around his shoulders.

"We're twins. It's like you come preset with a co-conspirator."

"No kidding. My parents would kill me." Pacifica said. There was the sound of someone moving outside the door to the brig. "I… Fine. I'll do it. But just because I'm not letting a boy who wears more makeup than I do parade me around like a prize."

"Hey, you! Get in here!" Pacifica yelled at the door. After a short silence, a sailor opened the door and carefully peeked inside.

"I-"

Before he had a chance to start talking, Pacifica made a show of throwing her hair back, padding her wide skirt down, before beginning to berate him.

"How dare you people lock me up in here with two filthy street urchins! When my father finds out about this, he'll have all of you marched before a London judge and tried for kidnapping and dumb insult!"

Mabel wasn't sure if she should feel impressed or insulted. The man shrunk back, half hiding behind the door.

"I've been trapped with a filthy gaggle of pirates for over two weeks now, look at my clothes, look at my hair! If my parents see me like this, they'll say you've tortured me! I demand to be taken to the officers' quarters this once so I can make myself presentable." She crossed her arms across her chest, striding up to the cell door. She carried herself with a mix of dignity and self-righteous fury. "Trust me, that's as much in your best interests as it is mine."

The man opened and closed his mouth, gaping like a fish out of water, before meekly slinking into the room and unlocking the door for Pacifica. Her dress' skirt was so wide it barely fit through the door when she left.

It passed almost an hour before she returned to the brig, marching back into the cell and glaring the man down while he locked the door and left again. Once he did and the three children were alone, she produced a large skeleton key from within the folds of her dress and dangled it in front of them.

"Took you long enough." Dipper complained.

"What? Like I was going to pass up the opportunity to properly wash up?"

"They… That was mostly just for show, right?" Mabel asked cautiously, swallowing the lump in her throat. "They didn't actually touch you when you were trapped. Did they?"

"No." Pacifica answered, looking down and leaning her back against the bars. "Just threatened. I'm pretty sure the captain wanted to hurt me, but this wannabe aristocrat kept reminding him it was 'impractical'."

"Okay. Good." Mabel breathed a sigh of relief. "We… We had a relative run into Bill. He wasn't as lucky."

Pacifica looked at them questioningly, but when neither sibling elaborated she simply handed them the key and stood back while they unlocked the door.

Dipper took off in the direction of where the sounding rod would have been located on The Mystery. Mabel more than trusted him to find it, even if the ship was a different make. Pacifica wavered on her feet, still within the cell despite the open door.

"So… You're heading deeper into the ship?" She asked, and Mabel nodded. "Okay. I'll… I'll go with your brother."

With that, Pacifica quickly but remarkably quietly followed Dipper into the labyrinth of hallways. It was still very early, and thankfully it seemed like most of the crew was asleep. Still, it was impressive how she could move so quietly in heels. Why would a girl from Pacifica's world ever need to learn how to take up less space?

Mabel took a lantern off the cell wall and crept out, traveling further down into the darkened ship. Through twists and turns and claustrophobic hallways, she eventually reached what looked to be the cargo hold.

The large room was full of crates and barrels stacked to the roof, much like the cargo hold her and Dipper had stowed away in before everything went south. Mabel shuddered as she remembered the mutilated body with its hollow eye sockets and empty mouth. She wasn't sure she'd ever forget it, it was so viscerally wrong. She wondered briefly who the person had been. Wondered if Pacifica might have seen them alive, since she was onboard at the time.

She tried to push the uncomfortable thoughts out of mind, but the familiarly cramped surroundings made it hard to not think back. It wasn't doing her any good, it was just unsettling her, making her feel like she was being watched. Like something was moving in the shadows between the shipments.

Tipping over the closest open crate, Mabel began to dig through the junk looking for something she could use to make smoke without setting the ship on fire for real. Any kind of rags or rope ends would do. She just wanted to find something so she could get back out of the cargo hold's unsettlingly looming shade.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Mabel almost screamed, before throwing her hands up over her mouth to stop herself and turning to face whoever had snuck up on her. A thousand half thought through excuses bounced around her brain, before she took in the man's appearance and it made her pause.

His face was halfway hidden behind a dark cloak, but there was something that struck her as very familiar about his eyes behind half-moon glasses. Dark grey hair ruffled by wind and stiff with salt decorated his head. He looked at her sternly, but despite it all, something about him put her at ease. Something about his eyes.

Something half fell half flew down from a box to gracelessly land on his shoulder and Mabel gasped.

"You have an animal on your body!" She whispered delightedly staring at the bird. He raised a brow at her.

"I'm not asking again. What are you doing?" His voice was deep and smooth, but he sounded suspicious. His clothes didn't look like what the crew wore.

The cargo hold was a good place for a stowaway to hide. After all, her and Dipper had managed for almost a month.

"You're a stowaway."

"And you're a prisoner." He said, unimpressed. "I don't believe you have any right to judge."

"You look familiar."

"And you look markedly like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. What. Are you. Doing?"

Mabel didn't answer, instead she stood up straight and looked at him in quiet challenge. He quirked a brow.

"Alright then, let me guess. You were taken onboard last time they stopped, along with two others. And now you've broken out and are digging through things that don't belong to you." He narrowed his eyes, continuing with distaste in his tone. "Were you left behind when Bill fled? You're a child. Far too young to throw away your life turning pirate."

"I am a pirate." Mabel fired back. "But I'm not with Bill."

"How nobel." He said sarcastically.

Mabel glared back at him. For all her gut told her he was trustworthy, he sure didn't seem like he trusted her. He spit the word 'pirate' like it was poison. Fine, if he didn't want anything to do with her, he didn't have to. She was just about to turn back to the task at hand when a thought struck her.

"Hang on. Bill left hours before this ship showed up. How did you know he'd even been on the island?" Her trust faltered. "Were you left behind when they fled?"

His eyes flew opened, and suddenly it was like he wasn't even looking at her anymore. Like he was looking straight through her, past her, at some unfathomably horrible thing she couldn't see. Couldn't even comprehend. His body went stiff, his shoulders hiked and his chest heaved. The sudden shift from the confident evasive stranger was palpable.

The bird—seagull—croaked softly and combed its beak through his hair. It seemed to snap him out of whatever thought it was that had him so startled, and he snarled at her.

"Don't. Don't ever insinuate I'd work with that demon."

"Then what were you doing there?"

The stranger breathed hard, raising a shaking, gloved, hand to comb through the feathers on the gull's head.

"I intended to search through their things when they were too drunk to notice. There's something that doesn't add up about Captain Cipher and I intend to figure out what. I'd knocked out their lookout without being caught, but before I got an opening some other crowd decided to pick a fight. Might I assume you were with them, then?"

"They're our crew. They're not the enemy here, we're after Bill too."

"Aren't you pirates?"

"Yes."

"Then you're the enemy."

Mabel glared at him. He was even more obstinate than Dipper. But she'd wasted enough time arguing with him.

"Okay."

"I answered your question. You answer mine, if you're so sure we're on the same side. What are you doing?"

Mabel stopped again halfway through the junk in the box. She'd found some books, but she'd rather avoid burning that unless it was a last resort. Dipper would never forgive her.

"Trying to find something to make smoke with. We're tricking the crew off of the ship, so we can take it and go back to save the others."

"You're trying to commandeer a ship?" He said incredulously.

"Yes. We're going to take the ship, and we're going to save our family."

"Then what? What port do you plan to make for?"

"Gravity Falls."

The man looked at her, looked around himself, then exhaled slowly through his nose. He had a large nose.

"How about a dea- agreement." He said, and Mabel looked. "I intended to travel towards that port too, but these people aren't heading in the right direction. If I aid you in… This. Then  when your crew takes over the ship, you don't tell any of them I'm here. I'll stay until we reach Gravity Falls, you'll stay quiet about my presence, and I'll leave once in port."

"I'm pretty sure they'll let you stay if you just ask." Mabel said. "They're not gonna hurt you, you don't have to hide down here."

"Forgive me if I don't trust that. Do we have an agreement?"

Mabel thought. She didn't know this guy, she had no real reason to trust him. There was nothing to say he wasn't just trying to get the crew gone so he could take over himself. But… If there was one thing she knew, it was people. Dipper said so. He was good with numbers and letters and plans, she was good with people. He trusted her to tell who they could and couldn't trust, who was dangerous, and who wasn't. And for the most part, it had led them right. She had nothing to prove this man wouldn't betray them, but she felt it. She made up her mind, hesitated for a second, then nodded.

"Okay." She said. "Deal."

She thought she saw him flinch at the word, but nothing more came of it. Instead he simply asked:

"So. What was your plan? Make smoke?"

"My brother sabotaged their sounding equipment. I'm supposed to get something to burn. We want to make the crew think they have to abandon ship."

"Smoke." The stowaway repeated, closing his eyes. "We can do that. Come with me."

Picking up one of the smaller barrels Mabel was relatively sure contained water, he began to walk down the ship towards the other end and she followed behind. He was clearly strong, despite looking old. Those barrels were heavy.

They reached a door where a guard with a rifle was stationed, and Mabel stopped out of sight. The other man didn't. He kept walking resolutely and confidently, like he had every right to be down there. The guard was too confused to react, before he was grabbed, slammed against the wall, and knocked unconscious.

Mabel gasped.

"What did you-!"

"He fainted from the smoke." The stowaway said indifferently. He looked back at her, his expression softening slightly when he saw the horrified look on her face. "He'll be okay, I didn't hit him that hard. You can drag him out on deck to the others when you go. Might even strengthen your 'accident' narrative."

"What's past here that's important enough to station a guard?"

"Powder magazine."

Mabel stopped dead in her tracks as he pushed open the door.

"What!?" She cried. "Are you crazy!?"

"Black powder makes plenty of smoke even if you don't burn a lot of it." He explained as he stepped inside. Mabel tripped over her own feet to follow him.

"It also explodes and sinks ships!"

"That would be counterproductive. See these walls? They're lined with copper. Copper doesn't spark, and it keeps the water out properly." He knocked a gloved hand against the shiny orange-brown metal sheets covering the walls demonstratively. The room smelled like sulfur. "Black powder doesn't explode if it's wet, just smokes and smoulders."

With that, the man dumped the contents of the water barrel over the explosive load. Mabel understood.

"You'll use the wet powder?"

He nodded, gesturing for her to hand him the still lit lantern half forgotten in her hands.

"You know, I'm pretty sure this makes you a pirate too." She told him, relinquishing the hold on the lantern that'd serve as their source of ignition. He dipped his cloak in the excess water and held it over his mouth.

"The thing is not to act like it."

"Do I act like it?"

Mabel saw the man's hands pause halfway through the motion of igniting the powder. He turned to look at her briefly, before looking away.

"… You should get out on deck. Smoke isn't good for little lungs."

"Okay."

Taking the unconscious guard under his arms, Mabel managed to drag him out just as thick grey smoke began spilling from the magazine, making her cough and hack. She found Dipper and Pacifica a floor above, and after that it was just a matter of making a ruckus and convincing the confused and barely awake merchants that something was seriously wrong.

Mabel ran to Gideon, forcing all the panic and anguish she could into her voice as she told him there'd been an explosion below deck. Some part of her suspected she should feel guilty for the blatant manipulation, but he'd forced her hand by separating them from their family. She wasn't going to let that happen, wasn't going to lose everything all over again without a fight.

No one went below deck to search for the damage. The instruments all said the same thing, that the ship was taking on water at dangerous rates. The choking smoke made any hopes of salvaging the vessel vain. There was nothing left to do but evacuate to the rowboats. Gideon told the actual captain as much.

It wasn't until the crew was already in small boats floating on a calm early morning sea that they could very plainly see the hull was still well above water. But by then it was too late to reverse their decision. Four small rowboats couldn't catch up to the proper merchant ship quickly leaving them behind even with three inexperienced children at the helm.

Once they'd managed to get far enough that not even the specks of rowboats were visible in the distance, they collapsed onto the deserted deck, exhausted but giddy as the adrenaline finally began to run its course.

"That was insane." Pacifica breathed, laying on her back on the planks. Her hair was messy and her dress crumpled and torn. She looked like a normal kid for once. "You're insane."

"Insane." Mabel repeated, laying similarly on her back before abruptly shooting upright and cheering. 

They'd done it.

Exhaustedly, Dipper joined in the cheers without rising to his feet. Any air or 'stuck up noblewoman' vanished as Pacifica snorted and laughed out loud.

Dipper read the map, Mabel took the helm. Just like Stan, Soos, and Wendy had shown. Pacifica made a show of complaining and fussing, but followed their lead the best she could. It wasn't many hours before the island they'd been separated on returned into view.

Things were still dire. They were still lost, and their home was gone. But their family was not.

They had each other, and they had a ship.

They had hope.

Stan hugged them tight and told them he'd never been prouder of his 'proper pirate' niece and nephew. When someone called him on the sap, he was quick to fire back. But everyone could tell just how relieved he was.

Briefly, Mabel wondered if she should tell them about the stowaway. But she didn't. She'd made a promise after all.

He was only going to be with them until they reached the Falls again.

#gravity falls #pirate au #my fics