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Chip ran. He didn’t know where he was going or even why he was running in the first place, he just knew, deep in his bones, that he needed to run. Vaguely familiar scenery passed by in flashes as he went, always just barely familiar enough for him to know them but never enough for him to remember where he knew them from.
He passed run down houses and small villages. He passed a few towns that perpetually smelled of wet paint and the forest. He passed many sunken ships, some in worse shape than others. He passed many severe storms that seemed to be frozen in place and a large amount of huge carcasses, each resembling some type of octopus or eel.
Suddenly, Chip was standing in front of a large ship. A ship that Chip immediately recognized, one that his subconscious brain could never let him forget. Chip was standing in front of the Black Rose.
Now that he had a few seconds to think and to breathe, Chip realized that all the places he had passed were towns or villages he had been to, either with his current crew or the crew from the Black Rose. He also realized that every sunken ship he passed was a slightly twisted version of all the ships he had ever been on, even if that particular ship hadn’t sunk.
Chip stared in awe as the sun slipped behind the massive ship that started him on his journey as a pirate. Small Lanterns that were scattered around the deck were slowly lit one by one, reminiscent of how the stars slowly blink to life after the sun had set for the day.
Chip was snapped out of his revere by the feeling of a large hand gently clamping on his shoulder. He looked over in shock and instantly recognized Arlin, whose voice was for some reason muffled to a point where Chip couldn’t understand the words he was saying. Arlin finished his weird, muffled speech and started walking towards the ship with Chip eagerly following after him.
Despite all his questions, Chip never found the right moment to even utter a single word, between sailing and listening to -and pretending to understand- Arlin’s stories. He enjoyed being able to hear the older man’s voice again, even though it was terribly distorted and even if all this was most likely a dream.
It was only after the questions in his brain started to drive him mad that Chip walked up to Arlin to finally get some answers to his questions. The holes in his plan were obvious: ’how is he going to get answers if he can’t even understand the man’ and ’why would dream Arlin know where real life Arlin is’ being the first two that came up while he was making the plan. But at least he, for once, had a plan.
Chip found Arlin over by the mast. He was adjusting the sails to catch more of the seemingly non-existent wind that somehow kept the ship plowing through the waves. Chip took a deep breath before reviewing the plan in his head and starting to ask his questions.
As Chip kept talking, Arlin’s face only got more and more confused, almost as if he couldn't understand the younger man, which was probably true. By the time Chip finished talking, a look of realization dawned on Arlin's face that was quickly distorted into a look of frustration and anger. And then, he started to change.
Chip took an involuntary step back, almost more scared and confused than he had ever been before (the only time he was more scared and confused was during the attack in the Black Rose).
The transformation started slow, with Arlin’s face distorting to give way to a viscous, black liquid. His arms, legs, and torso began to stretch out, nearly doubling their length. Large cysts filled with the same black tar-like liquid began growing all over his body in an irregular pattern and at different speeds, until they got so big they burst, effectively spreading the vile liquid everywhere, some of it landing on Chip’s shoulders and face.
By the end of it, the figure standing in front of Chip no longer resembled Arlin in any way, instead, the figure was tall and lanky, severely hunched over and had a large smile that would have reached to its ears if it had any. Its jaw seemed to unhing every time it was opened and the noises it made sounded like nails on a chalkboard mixed with two pieces of styrofoam rubbing against each other, although it did manage to get out the occasional sentence or word. The creature's claws were long and sharp, looking more like kitchen knives strapped to very thin and long hands than actual fingers.
Chip stood, frozen with shock and fear. He had a pain in his chest similar to being stabbed, his mouth slightly open from the shock, allowing some of it to get in. The vile ichor was splattered across his face and found by the time he came back to his senses, the taste and texture of it flooding his brain making him stumble back, rendered dizzy with shock and repulsion. As Chip forced himself to look up at the figure, he suddenly remembered why he was running.
He turned abruptly and started walking. His walk turned into a jog and from there a full sprint as he tried to escape from whatever hell he had stumbled into. He ran to the edge of the ship, only stumbling a few times, and went to dive in before he heard it. He heard Arlin’s voice. It was distorted and wet sounding, almost as if he had a perpetual cough stuck in his throat, but it wasn’t quite as muffled as it was before, allowing Chip to make out the words the creature used his voice to say,
“Come now, you just got here, why are you leaving so soon? We have so much to discuss.” Chip faltered slightly, one leg propped up on the railing and ready to jump. Even though he knew it was stupid, Chip turned his head and looked at his pursuer,
“I have nothing to discuss with you.” Chip said, his voice wavering slightly. In truth, he wanted nothing more than to ask this creature questions about Arlin and the others, but common sense told him it wasn’t worth it, if this is a dream then that thing is a figment of your imagination, why would it know where they are anymore then you do?
The creature chuckled and sighed, saying how it wished they could have done this the easy way. Chip was about to ask what that meant before he felt something wrap around his legs. Tendrils of the sticky black substance had tangled itself around his body and was pulling him down, down through the floor of the ship, and down farther into the dream. The last thing Chip saw as his head was pulled under was the head of that creature staring down at him with its large, terrifying smile.
After his head was fully submerged, Chip could breath but he could never take a deep enough breath to satisfy his aching lungs. He watched with mounting horror as he was thrown from memory to memory, each starting normal but slowly turning into a giant sea of that vile liquid until everywhere he looked was coated in a thick layer of tar. Eventually, Chip curled up on himself, blocking out the rest of the world as he covered his eyes, squeezing them shut until he could feel the headache start to build.
When Chip finally opened his eyes again, he was greeted by the sight of a familiar ship. The sound and smell of the ocean, the gentle rock of the ship swaying side to side in the waves. He was hopeful for a second, wishing that he had finally woken up, but quickly squashed that hope down, not wanting to be disappointed when that monster showed up out of no where to ruin it all.
When laying in bed started to drive him crazy, he slowly got up and looked around. Everything seemed to be in order, the small chests that stored his and his friend’s weapons, the table that held Pretzel’s container while she slept and the three pouches shoved into the corner by Jay’s bed that held all of their savings. The only thing out of place was the fact that Jay’s bed was empty. Chip tried to reason with himself, tried to convince himself that she was just out on the deck making sure they didn’t crash into any islands, but his mind wasn’t having it, especially not after what he just went through.
Chip took a deep breath and began the short walk over to Gillion’s barrel, knowing that the only way to convince himself that this was real would be to see him in there and to more importantly, hear his voice. Chip crept over and slowly opened the lid to the barrel, relaxing slightly when he saw the sleeping form of his friend curled up inside.
Chip immediately tensed back up as Pretzel blinked up at him and nudged the sleeping fish, effectively waking him up. The little traitor, Chip made a mental note to pick up some pretzels at the next island they went to and not share them with her.
Gillion slowly rose out of the barrel, blinking sleep out of his eyes and looking at Chip with obvious confusion written across his face. He cleared his throat before speaking,
“Chip? What are you doing at my barrel?” His voice was rough from sleep and yet oddly soft, almost to much for Chip to process without immediately breaking down sobbing because holy shit, this is real, he finally woke up.
Chip’s reaction to hearing his voice must have shown on his face more then he thought it did because Gillian’s expression changed from confusion to worry as he stepped out of the barrel and put his hands on Chip’s shoulders, thinking over his next words very carefully,
“Are you okay, Chip?” Gillion looked him up and down, seemingly looking for injuries before continuing, “You look like you got into a fight with four leviathans at once.” Gillion obviously only added that last comment to try and dispel some of the tension in the room but it only served to make Chip feel worse. Here he was, waking one of his best friends up because he couldn’t take care of himself and was to freaked out by a silly little nightmare to go back to sleep. God, he really was pathetic.
As Chip thought this, a few tears slipped out of his eyes and fell to the floor, causing a cycle of self deprecating thoughts leading to more tears until he was fully sobbing into his friends shoulder.
Gillion gently ran his hand through Chip’s hair while making little ‘shhh’ noises to try and help ground Chip. Eventually when Chip collapsed against him, he gently guided them both down to sit on the floor, Chip almost all the way in Gill’s lap as Gillion leaned against his barrel.
Chip finished crying but Gillion never let go, doing his best to comfort his co-captain in a time of vulnerability. After a long stretch of comforting silence, Gill asked if Chip wanted to talk about what had caused all this, and Chip did. Chip talked and talked about his shitty childhood before the Black Rose and also about the scenarios that took place in the dream but not quite in reality.
Gillion sat and listened to Chip rant, never once stoping the motion of moving a gentle hand through his hair. There were, of corse, times where Chip would work himself up to the point of fresh tears welling up in his eyes, but every time that would happened, Gill would take his free hand and gently brush the tears away, reminding Chip that he wasn’t back in that nightmare but was instead safe on the Albatross with the only two he let himself truly care about since the Black Rose.
When Chip finished ranting, he looked up at Gill and allowed himself to feel happy, as if a massive weight was lifted off his shoulders all at once after years of carrying it. Gillion let the room settle back into a comfortable silence for a bit before speaking once more,
“I will never let anyone hurt you like that, ever again.”
Chip broke eye contact and buried his face in Gill’s chest to hide his smile, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself believe.
Chip and Gillion fell asleep like that only a few moments later, legs tangled, Chip leaning against Gill’s chest and one of Gill’s arms wrapped securely around Chip’s waist, the other hand still resting in Chip’s hair.
If Jay walked in on this scene and silently snickered to herself as she walked back onto the deck to take over their watches and quickly took the conch shell to tell Lizzie what she just saw, that was for her to know and them to never find out.