Disclaimer: I don't own Black Sails or any of its characters

I decided to write this story, because in my opinion the focus of the series is too much on Flint and what he wants to achieve. When Billy came back he was way too willing to fall into line again. This story will start out in canon and as it carries on diverge more and more from the series. Also I wanted to explore more what exactly happened to our favourite boatswain/quartermaster while he was in captivity of Capitan Hume.

Updates: every 2-3 weeks

Bright sunlight shone down upon his body. He could feel the roughness of the sand grains beneath his shattered body. His eyes fluttered open. Vaguely he could see black outlines of two people standing over him. He heard their murmurous voices. Words he couldn't quite figure out. He tried to bring his right hand up to shade his aching eyes from the sun, but learnt he was too weak to even do this. The voices grew louder. One of the shadows kneeled next to him. Touched him. He tried to flinch away from the touch, but his body wouldn't move. His body felt heavy as did his eyes. He fought the exhaustion that threatened to overcome him again. He lost. There was a last word, though, he managed to hear before he indulged once again into the numbing world of unconsciousness. "Billy."

He had no idea how long he had been in the raging sea. Minutes, hours…it felt like an eternity. Waves came crashing down grimly. Billy fought against their strength, but he could feel himself getting weaker and weaker by the minute.

Why hadn't his crew saved him by now? Had they just left him there to die?

The crest of a high wave hit him and send him tumbling underwater. He couldn't tell where up and down were anymore. He panicked. His heart beat went mental. He attempted to hold his breathe, but even the best diver had to get air sometime. Water filled his air deprived lungs and made his head spin. Aimlessly he kicked with his legs in a last attempt to rescue himself. The moment his head broke the water surface was the happiest in his life. He coughed up the water he inhaled. Sweet air rushed into his lungs. This had been the seventh time he had almost died and survived. How long would he be able to fight the inevitable?

Lightening illuminated the black sky. For a split second he could see the outline of the Walrus in the distance. His heart sunk. He thought about giving up. Giving in to the destructive power of the sea and be done with it.

But fate wasn't done with him yet. A thick rope crashed into the water next to him. He heard men scream that he should hold on. A spark of hope returned to his heart. Billy grabbed the rope. He felt how it was pulled up. He knew if he could only hold on to it, if he could only get to the deck of the ship, he would be save. How wrong he had been…

The next time he woke up, he found himself sheltered from the hot rays of the sun. Lush shadow surrounded him. Someone had laid him on a straw mattress inside of a tent.

Had he really made it? Was he finally save?

Billy took a deep breath. He instantly regretted it, when a burning pain shook through his ribs. He closed his eyes again. The pain slowly died away. Slow and shallow breathes, he reminded himself. He turned his head carefully as he felt he wasn't alone inside the tent. He caught sight of three men. Two standing in the entrance, another one leaning against the pole in the middle. His vision was still blurred, so he wasn't sure if they were familiar or not. "Who knows that you found him?" the one that leaned against the pole enquired. He had shoulder long black hair. His voice sounded familiar. "Only the three of us so far. "

"Make sure it stays this way," the black-haired man demanded. "There are pressing matters that need to be dealt with. The last thing Flint needs right now his him reappearing from the death."

Flint? Pressing matters? Billy was confused. What the fuck was going on?

"So what the fuck do you propose we do with him in the meantime?" One of the other men asked confused and a bit angry. "Randall and I will take care of him. Look at him. He isn't going anywhere in the next couple of hours anyway…" Someone sighed. "Fine. But as soon as he is well enough we expect to see him outside." The two men who had been standing in the entrance left.

The black-haired man stepped closer and looked down on him. "You're awake?" It was more a statement than a question. "You must be thirsty." The man busied himself getting some water. He came back with a cup. He hunkered down next to Billy and helped him to sit up so he wouldn't choke on the liquid.

Billy drank it in a couple of big gulps. He hadn't even realised how thirsty he had been until the sweet liquid had touched his lips. The man helped him to settle back onto the mattress. Billy licked his chopped lips.

"Gates," he whispered quietly. His voice was raspy and dry. Talking even physically hurt his throat. He didn't care; he had survived worse.

"Sorry, did you say anything?"

Billy cleared his throat in order to try again. "Gates…where is Gates?" Blue eyes gazed at him- torn. The man bit his lips. Billy didn't get the feeling he wanted to answer his question. Why was that? He grabbed the man's ankle. He wanted to know the truth. Still he didn't say a word.

Billy could feel how exhaustion threatened to knock him out again. This time he didn't fight it. He was back home. He was as save as he would ever going to be. He was overpowered by the need to sleep. His hand released the ankle of the man when he drifted into a deep sleep.

He sat leaning against the wooden wall of his cell in the belly of the Scarborough. They had bound him with iron shackles after they had robbed him of his shoes and his shirt. He licked his lips and tasted his own blood. He carefully touched his face and discovered a deep gash on his forehead. His features must be caked in tried blood he figured. No wonder his head hurt like hell. He pulled his knees closer to his body and laid his head onto his kneecaps. He had never felt that tired his entire life.

Cold wind blew through the small peephole at the side of the cell. Billy shivered slightly. It was bloody freezing. The ship rocked back and forth due to the still strong waves of the sea. He cursed himself. He should have never grabbed that damn rope. But he had been a coward. A coward who was afraid to die.

He knew he had made a mistake as soon as he hit the deck and realised he was surrounded by British soldiers. One of them had kicked him in the face and knocked him out instantly. When he woke up he found himself in this cell.

He should have known that it was the Scarborough that had fished him out of the water. How stupid could he be? There was no ship in the vicinity. Now his fate went out of the frying pan into the fire. It was known that the British had little to no regard to pirates. Why had they not killed him yet? Why did they make the effort to fish him out of the deadly waters in the first place?

He heard heavy steps coming closer. His gaze wandered to the bars. There stood a man he had seen one time before. It happened when Flint and he went to Mr Guthrie's estate on Harbor Island. Capitan Hume of the Scarborough, dressed in a blue coat, knee breeches and a ridiculous grey wig. Still he had a dark aura about him. He smiled at Billy smugly.

"We have met before I recall. You were with Flint when I intended to arrest Richard Guthrie." His eyes were cold and full of contempt. "You know what that tells me? It tells me that you are a filthy pirate, not a human being. Less than an animal some would say," he spat the words. "But- you must occupy an important position within your band of scum. That is why you are still alive, in case you wondered." The Capitan clasped his hands around the iron bars knowing that Billy could not reach them due to his shackles. "You will tell me everything you know"

"What makes you think I would betray my brothers to the bloody likes of you?"

Hume clicked his tongue. "Boy… I thought you would say that. Truth is the more resistant you are the more fun for me. But I promise you, eventually you will break."