Work Text:
ATLAS
by Bimo
The reality of their father’s deed sinks in slowly, every day a bit deeper, finding its way to the innermost places of mind and soul, where rage and horror nest and expand. How can a man sell his sons, Liam wonders, his own flesh and blood, as deckhands in exchange for a dinghy?
For the last two weeks the brothers Jones have been living on a diet of bread and water mostly, with the occasional apple or bit of cheese thrown in by their new master, not as an act of kindness, but to keep them fit enough for their various tasks on board the Anna May. After their third apple day in a row, Liam suspects the Captain wants to get rid of the remaining fruit before they rot.
“Here, Killian. Eat. Who knows when you’ll get another,” Liam says gently, handing over the more decent looking apple, “Or do you want to lose all your teeth like old Mrs. Watkins?”
His brother’s eyes light up briefly — his instinctive reaction to teasing. From the moment he was old enough to fight back, Killian had always been quick-witted and a surprisingly good sport. Back home they could spend hours bantering about all sorts of things, so Liam realises the full gravity of his mistake when Killian’s smile collapses into an expression that is heart-wrenchingly desperate.
Too late to take it back now. Liam wants to slap himself for not remembering this particular lesson. When your life suddenly gets torn into separate parts, you cannot mention anything from before the catastrophe, not even the toothless old woman whose rowboat you used to take out on the local pond every now and then, because any memory from happier days will only inflict pain instead of consolation. He’s already been through such an ordeal with Killian before, during the year their mother died. A few careless, ill-chosen words, and his younger brother would quaver.
“Killian, I know that apple’s got brown spots, but please. You can eat the parts that are still alright.”
What remains unsaid makes Killian finally do as he is told. Once he has swallowed down bite after bite in an act of sheer willpower, he takes a step towards Liam, flings his arms around him and buries his face in Liam’s shirt.
Liam holds him.
“Shh, brother,” he whispers, looking up to the skies, bloody well knowing that if they want to survive, if he wants Killian to pull through, he must stand tall and set an example. Under his feet, he can feel the Anna May lurching.