Never Let Me Go (A McHanzo Fanfic)

Commodore Jackass Morrison

Heheh- hello again, loves! Here's another chapter for y'all, hope you enjoy it, and if you do please click on the little star to vote on the chapter.

Ok, let's gooooooooo!

The whole ship stagnated, and both sides had their weapons in the air as they diverted their focus on the crumpled pirate captain, writhing on his own pool of blood as he clutched his left arm like a frightened child would to its mother. Pressing the bloody limb onto his chest, the crimson saturating his thin shirt bloomed menacingly with the flow of the dark red liquid, and his bronze chest beneath began to discolor with unsightly blotches brought upon by the wet garment.

The air was still, thick enough to cut, save for the constant salty sea breeze that blew their matted hairs back. But young Thomas was the first to break free from the silent spell of surreality, and he dove on his knees to come to the aid of the captain who took him in like a little brother. Instantly, he recognized his own demons and teared up at the unfortunate realisation that he knew zero to nothing when it came to the delicate art of CPR. When he had a cut, he'd only suck the affected spot and find that it would be fine the next day. But this wasn't a cut--this was a fricking bullet wound that probably tore through a major artery in Jesse's arm and was costing the captain his life driblet by driblet.

Oh my, what do I do, what do I do?!

"Er, I'm real sorry, Cap'n. I-I don't know much of them doctor stuff." Thomas was hyperventilating, and the blanching of McCree's rugged, sun-kissed face brought a higher degree of alarm that nearly made him faint.

"Thomas, you dingus," Jesse chuckled his fondness for the boy through purpling lips. "Ya don't have to apologize for nothin'."

"But Cap'n-"

The man that commanded the attacking group from the island burst forth in between the two and carelessly shoved the lad back with a rough palm to the shoulder. It didn't take much for Thomas to fall, and he winced when his frail person landed with a dull thud on his back.

"Hurry, tourniquet this scum. The magistrate specifically wants this one alive," he ordered brusquely, snapping his head to those who have already made it over the ship's baluster. With a few commanding strides, he faced the other members of Jesse's unflinching crew dead in the eyes. "If ya don't want to be executed in the gallows with your leader, I suggest you all stay out of this. If yer lucky, the worst you'll go into are the prison cells...but I highly doubt such unproportionate punishment."

Thomas whimpered.

"Nggh--!" Jesse let off a groan of displeasure at being handled with haphazardly in this terrific state he'd been thrown into. Two men kept him sitting upright while a third tore the black cape from his broad shoulders and used that to stop the leaking of the blood.

"Tie all of 'em up separately. Make sure none of 'em's got any knives or tricks up their sleeves. The magistrate is nigh, would be a shame to let these slip from under our noses. T'would be like throwing gold into the ocean."

"Should we search the other rooms, sir?"

McCree's drooping eyes widened with a spark of alarm setting off at the back of his head, and he squirmed against his less than comfortable bindings. He knew that this very exact instance was coming, but the daze that came with his blood-consuming wound forced his senses to dullen and numb, and with it, his sharp thinking and consciousness. He had nearly forgotten about Hanzo as he fought to withstand the undulating onslaught of his physical weakness. But when his beloved's face flashed against his mind's eye, he no longer felt the pull of pain dragging him down, and he strained to protest, much to the alarm of the other pirates.