When he woke to the fact that he was shackled yet again, he was enraged. He pulled on his chains; they wouldn't budge a centimetre. He screamed frustrated. He kicked around him and brought his fists down to the ground. He was stopped by the throbbing pain that shot through his body. The throbbing pain that stole his breath. He collapsed. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes. Tears of frustration, pain and humiliation. He swallowed them.

His back felt wet. Billy figured that his wounds had reopened. He didn't care. He preferred the pain to the sense of helplessness that threatened to overcome him.

He wasn't the man he was before he had gone overboard. He was a mere shadow of his former self. He knew it and the others would figure it out soon enough. He gasped for air as he felt a panic attack approaching. His body started shivering uncontrollably.

He hated himself for being so fucking weak. Hume had been right. He was broken. He had delivered what was promised.

When he had calmed down, he gazed around. Someone had moved him from a tent on the beach into a wooden hut filled with dried fish and ham, spices, tobacco and barrels.

Billy hold his breath as two man entered the hut, fully expecting his tormentor. When he recognised Silver and Randall he was relieved beyond any description. He was home in Nassau. The fact made his confinement even more curious.

As soon as the shivering subsided he sat up and looked at the fellow pirates, torn between happiness, confusion, agony and anger. "Why the fuck have you put me into chains," he snarled. Silver hold his hands into the air defensively. Billy realised him to be the man with the black-hair from the day before. "Billy calm down. Then we can talk, alright?"

While Randall sat down on one of the chests that was stored in the hut, Silver stepped closer and stared at him. "Hell, you know you are bleeding?" Billy nodded unaffected. "Let me take care of that." Silver approached him like one would approach an injured dog. Slowly to not antagonise it. "First we need to get that shirt of you," he explained carefully and reached out to pull it over Billy's head.

Billy flinched in anticipation of his touch. "I can do that myself." He pulled the cloth over his head and revealed the extent of his injuries. Randall's eyes widened, while Silver sucked in some air. "Damn…"

His chest was black and blue from bruises as was his back. Whipping marks spanned over his sides and along his back farther down. Abrasions adorned his wrists, ankles and neck. He had also lost some weight in his week of captivity. Some of the wounds were bleeding. "We will need some alcohol here," Silver determined and left the hut.

Randall starred at Billy and made him feel uncomfortable. He felt as if the half-wit could see through him. As if he could see what had been done to him. He looked down at his hands ashamed. He had thought if he only made it back to Nassau, he could continue with his life as before. But nothing was as it had been. He felt queasy.

Something must have happened to Gates. Otherwise he would be the one tending to his wounds, not Silver, least of all Randall. There was no sense in asking the former cook.

Silver returned with a bottle of rum. He took a big gulp, before he poured the rest over Billy's back. Billy groaned with pain. "Sorry mate, it's for disinfection," Silver guaranteed with a smirk. Then he busied himself wrapping clean rags of clothes around the bleeding wounds.

"Where is Gates?" Billy probed afresh.

Silver looked at him, he shifted uncomfortably. "I don't think…"

"Tell me the fuck where Gates is," Billy shouted at him, beginning to lose his patient once and for all.

Silver sighed. "Alright." He swiftly looked at Randall who just nodded sadly. "He is dead." Billy inhaled sharply. "Stop fucking with me." Silver shook his head apologetically. "I wished I made this up, but it is true."

Gates was dead. He could not believe it, he didn't want to believe it. The man who had told him everything he knew about sailing ships, the pirate codex and everything in between. Gates had been like a father to him. But now he was gone forever...and he hadn't even been there to say goodbye. His heart clenched in sorrow. He knew something wasn't right when the old man didn't come to see him.

"How?" His voice broke.

Silver swallowed nervously. "Flint killed him." The pirate stepped back a couple of paces, obviously fearing to be the victim of Billy's wrath. When he didn't scream and shout, but remained silent the black-haired man was taken aback. "Did you hear what I told you?"

"Yeah, loud and clear." Billy looked up to him. His eyes betrayed the feelings he didn't voice. They reflected anger, sadness and betrayal.

"You see why I can't let you walk around for now. Randall and I decided you will need some time to wrap your head around it." Randall grunted approvingly. "I will get you something to eat. Randall will stay with you." When Billy didn't reply, Silver shrugged with his shoulders and left the hut.

He felt bad for Billy. He really did. If things were different he wouldn't keep him in the storehouse. But he had no idea what the former quartermaster would tell the other man. The problem was that Silver himself wasn't sure if Billy really fell of the ship by accident or if Flint pushed him.

What he knew, though, was that Flint was his best chance to get his hands on the Spanish gold. As long as that was true he would support the Capitan no questions asked.

Was he shocked that Flint killed Gates? A bit, but he had done the same for his benefit when he killed the cook on his ship to gain the page of the Capitan's log. He was in no position to condemn it. Truth was Flint and he were pretty similar. Billy would see that differently though. Gates had taught him since the man from the Walrus had freed the boy from a British ship. Loyalty wasn't just a word to him, it was a creed.

He sat down on some boulder at the beach. His eyes scanning the horizon. A couple of clouds moved across the sky, the sea was calm. This island was a paradise for the likes of him. How much longer ,was the question.

If the torture that happened to Billy was any sign of how the British planned to handle the pirates, he needed to be gone by the time they arrived. If people wanted to fight for this piece of sand and rubble they were free to do so. Didn't mean he had to risk his life for the same end.

Silver opened the bottle of rum he snatched from the provisions. He took a big gulp. He had to come up with some ideas how to keep the men on the beach in line with Flint's plan.

They had brought him onto deck and bound to one of the cross-beams. Hostile faces stared at him wherever Billy looked. He could sense their disgust and contempt. The way they glared at him bothered and frightened him at once.

When they took him from his cell he had managed to brake the nose of one of the soldiers. The man stood back a couple of steps. He wouldn't surrender without a fight. And there was still a lot of fight left in him. He smirked at the man with the bloody nose.

Capitan Hume appeared from the lower deck. He stopped right in front of him. His aloof eyes hang on him for a couple of seconds until he turned around to address his men.

"Dear Gentlemen, we have caught ourselves a low-life pirate." His men cheered. Hume raised his hands to silence them. "Soon we will know everything we need to know to rid ourselves of the plague that is Providence Island." He gave Billy a side glance. "He will help us with that."

One of the men stepped up. In his hands he carried a leathern bullwhip. Billy bit his lower lip. He had expected this. If he wouldn't cooperate, they would punish him, and they would make a show out of it. He wouldn't waver though. He was not willing to tell them anything.

"Let's start on an easy question. What's your name, vermin?"

He refused to even answer this simple question. His lips where sealed. He wasn't going to betray the men who had rescued him from the oppression of the British Navy.

"Boy, you can save yourself some pain here. Answer!" Hume glared at him. Billy smirked amused. It seemed that the Capitan wasn't used to be opposed. No wonder, there was no brave bone in those brown-nosed soldiers.

"Suit yourself." The soldier with the bullwhip located himself behind Billy. He swallowed anxiously. He clenched his fists and prepared himself for the first blow.

All air left his lungs when that first strike hit his bare back with a crack. He felt his skin tear open and groaned with pain. The second strike hit him seconds afterwards without time to recover from the first one. Through his eyelashes he saw the perverted satisfaction Hume got from him being violated like that. It made him feel sick to his stomach.

The third blow drew the first blood. Billy had to subdue a scream. He bit down hard on his lower lip injuring himself in the process. He panted heavily. He wanted it to stop.

"Billy…my name is Billy," he whispered.

"It speaks." Hume's voice was condescending. He gave the torturer a sign to stop. "See- was that so hard?" The soldiers laughed amused. "We already know you belong to Capitan Flint's crew. What is your position?"

Billy's eyes narrowed. He contemplated not answering for a second, but the throbbing pain from his back reminded him what would happen. "Quartermaster."

Hume looked around complacently. He was sure he had broken his captive. "Very well. Now tell me exactly why Flint attacked the Andromache!"

Billy glared at him with contempt. "Never… you fucking shit!"

Hume punched him in the face hard. "Don't you dare insult me like that again." Then he stepped back and gave the torturer a sign to continue where he stopped. The whip cracked once more. Billy flinched when it came down brutally on his already beaten back.

Soon blood spatter covered the planks of the deck. If it hadn't been for his constraints that kept him in place, Billy would have fallen to the ground. His knees buckled a while ago. Breathing got harder and became stertorously. His vision blurred. The soldiers who surrounded him and cheered for the torturer were merely blue-white blobs.

"Enough." He recognised Hume's voice. "We don't want to kill that shit yet. Cut him down."

Strong hands grabbed his arms and the rope that constrained him was cut. Billy fell to the ground with a loud bang. He was too weak to support himself. He welcomed the darkness that came upon him.