#evan budckley

[mr-and-mr-diaz]

First off, you're an amazing person w/ gr8 blog. Second of all, I hope you don't mind me saying it? If it's weird or creepy, please, disregard. Don't want to make you uncomfortable. Third of all, I came to your tumblr from ao3 and specifically the pirate fic and ma'am (sir? Neither? Wanted to use honorific and "my kind dude tends to not be *that* universal, sadly). It. ROCKS. If by any chance you feel like continuing it, I'd be forever in debt. Also hope you don't mind reviews via anon tumblr? ♥

ANON!! My answer to this ask is so long overdue I literally have no words. When I first recieved this ask in my box I was warmed through--thank you so much for your kind words! I determined to myself I would NOT send an empty response, would only publish this with the chapter in hand!! And then life picked up like crazy and I never seemed to have a spare BREATH to sit down and write this AU well enough that it would be worth reading. AND NOW I FAINLLY HAVE IT!!! Two more chapters for ya, I really hope you enjoy!!

P.S. Also, I refuse to be called ANYTHING except My Kind Dude from now on, that is the best address ever! 

The Damned Disgrace--Buddie Pirate AU, Chapter 2

"Dios mio, you're useless."

Buck looked up from where he'd been struggling to swab the deck and met the glare of Captain Nash's angry first mate--Diaz, and sighed. He'd already been on the ship a fortnight, and while Chimney had fit right in, used to hard work and quickly picking up the vernacular of the other pirates, Buck stuck out like a sore thumb. He wasn't used to manual labor, having spent his life behind books and papers, and had no instinct for it. He tried, oh did he try so hard, but his clumsy hands struggled to complete work that someone else had to repeat later to make sure it was done right. And the pirates who didn't ignore him were usually laughing at him. What few acquaintances he'd made in his past life had been in academic circles. These men had no patience for or interest in unusual trivia about far away lands, or wonderings about what the world would be like if mankind lived under the water and fish lived on land. 

Buck was red with sunburn, blistered all over--on his back, his forearms, and face from sunburn, and his hands, fingers and feet from work. He ached everywhere. 

He looked away from Diaz and went back to stubbornly pushing the mop around the deck.

I won't be useless! I won't go overboard. I'm going to work hard and they'll help me find Maddie and bring her home! and if I get to shoot that thrice-damned Commodore Douglas too, well that would be a boon from God--

"Stop. Just stop."

Buck stopped, his heart sinking. He dared not look Diaz in the eye again, already knowing the derision and anger he would see there.

Sure the other pirates ignored him or laughed at him behind his back. But Diaz? Diaz detested him. This was the first time he'd ever spoken to Buck but definitely not the first time he'd loomed nearby, sneering at Buck's pathetic efforts to work as part of the team and fit in.

"We should've left you back at the port."

"What? No! No, I swear, I'm learning--"

"Learning what? How to smear muck around so someone else has to clean up after you? Again?" Diaz sneered, kicking at the mop. Buck's hands twitched around it, every blister flaring up painfully. Diaz's eyes caught it and he suddenly leaned forward. "Show me your hands."

"What...?"

"Show me!"

Buck carefully placed the mop against the rail of the ship and carefully unfolds his hands, wincing as the skin flares in pain with each motion.

"Dios...! Come with me."

"Wait, but I have to finish the--"

"NOW!"

***

Buck followed Eddie down into the ship, down down, past Buck's sleeping berth with the other sailors. 

Buck looked around in trepidation. Is he taking me to the bilge? To the brig? The bilge was full of seawater, the brig a confined, rat infested cell where only the most unfortunate went.

They kept walking.

"Uh, Diaz, I... I swear, I'll work harder, I just--please don't--"

"You're not working any more today." Diaz replied shortly and threw open a door. "Hen, I've got the cabron for you. Destroyed his hands and he thinks he's magical enough not to get gangrene or something. Can you fix him up?"

The woman inside raised her eyebrows. "You don't usually bring me people, Eddie." She was dressed like the rest of the sailors but her clothes were neater and better kept. 

"They aren't usually this stupid." Eddie growled. 

"I... sorry." Buck mumbled, defeated.

"Don't worry about this one. He's always angry about something." Hen chuckled, and Diaz's scowl deepened. "What's your name?"

"Ah, Buck. Well, Evan Buckley, but... just Buck is okay." He felt another twinge in his heart as he said it. It was Maddie who had named him Buck.

"Buck it is. Come sit and we'll have a look at those hands."

Buck chanced a sideways look at Diaz, who was still standing there, muscled arms crossed. "Is he...?"

"Eddie was just leaving, weren't you, Eddie?" Hen's tone brooked no argument, and to Buck's surprise, Diaz obeyed.

Buck sat and held his hands out. Now that he had a moment to focus on them they hurt even more, and he could feel some of the injuries oozing. "I'm sorry, I tried to-- but--" he stopped abruptly as he felt his throat thicken and his eyes started to wet. You are already the most pathetic creature on this ship, you will not make it worse by whining about it. Silently he held his hands out, head down. 

Hen sucked in a breath. "Eddie was right to bring you here. If you let these wounds get any more infected than they are and gangrene set in I might have to remove one or both of them."

Buck swallowed around a sob. As a teacher and writer, his hands were his life.

"I'll clean and wrap your hands for you." Hen continued softly. "That should be able to prevent it from getting worse, so long as you promise not to use them for the next few days and come down here every day for the next week so I can make sure they don't get worse. Okay?"

Buck nodded silently.

"Buck."

He looked up at Hen. She was wearing a kind smile and that was enough to completely undo him. A single tear slid down his cheek and he reached up a hand to stop it, but Hen wouldn't allow it. "I need to wrap these first." Her eyes and smile were all compassion. After two weeks in a foreign world with no friends on board it was a balm to Buck's soul. He kept his head bowed as she cleaned and wrapped, let the tears fall silently, unchecked. When she was done, she reached out a hand and clasped his shoulder. "The sailors are used to losing people and because you’re greener than most, they're expecting you to die. They don’t want to get close to someone they’re gonna lose. But if you stay alive they'll warm up eventually, don't fret it."

"Then.. why are you...?"

Hen snorted. "I walk to the beat of my own drum on this ship, Buck. Always have. And I've decided I like you, dumbass hand damage and all."

Buck sniffed. "Thanks."

Hen nodded. "Go to the captain and tell him that I've ordered light duty for you--no using your hands except to carry light objects. Errands only for you for the next two weeks."

"But Captain Nash said--if I'm not useful--"

Hen chuckled. "His bark is bigger than his bite. Besides, I'm pretty sure he's taken a liking to you too."

***

"Buckley."

"Uh, Captain. I... Hen, the doctor--" Buck choked off with a derisive snort at himself. Did I really just stop to explain to the captain who his doctor is? "Uh, she said I should tell you that I'm..." He held up his bandaged hands. "Light duty. Errands."

Captain Nash's face clouded and his brow furrowed as he took in the state of Buck's hands.

"But I swear, I'll be useful, I don't--please, don't throw me off the ship--"

"Buckley." One firm word and Buck silenced. "You'll rest today, and starting tomorrow you'll work as an errand boy around the ship. Messages, parcels, meals for sick crew. And anything Hen or I asks you to do, you do without question."

"I--yes. Yes, sir. Captain."

Nash looked up at him, his eyes showing the smallest glint of kindness. "A teacher's hands are his life's blood, Buckley. See to it you take care of them." Nash turned to gaze out the window of his office and sighed. "If you're very lucky, you'll need them sooner than you think."

Buck's pulse heightened. "Are we near Commodore Douglas's ship, sir?"

Captain Nash sighed. "Not as close as I’d like to be." He turned back to Buck. "Dismissed."

Buck nodded and left for his hammock.

Chapter 3

The next day he showed up bright and early at Captain Nash's office only to be sent down to Hen. Hen took one look at him and started loading a crate with various medicines and infusions, talking rapidly. For each bottle, Hen explained what it was, who it was for and why. Buck paid careful attention so he could keep up. Rote memorization and processes? He was back in his comfort zone.

"...garlic and chamomile for Wes, he ate something at port that we're still trying to get out of him. Then cat's claw for Lea, her knuckles are hurting her again. And that's all." Hen hesitated, thinking for a moment. Then she mumbled something under her breath before grabbing a few more vials. "Actually, got a few more. These are to be dropped off outside Eddie's quarters." 

"Diaz? What are they for?"

"Eddie knows what to do with them." No further explanation came and Buck nodded at the dismissal and left, running around the ship to deliver the medicines to each ailing person. When he arrived at last outside Diaz's door, he paused, looking over the bottles. It made no sense to be bringing so much medicine to Diaz’s quarters. Buck had seen him just this morning, looking as healthy as ever, muscles rippling while he hauled canvas with the men. What is this for? Buck shook his head to clear the thoughts--no use risking his newfound equilibrium by prying. He hastily dropped the bottles outside Diaz's door, knocked and departed.

He followed this routine for the next week, deviating at times in the afternoon to run errands for the captain. But every morning started the same--Hen dropping several bottles and vials into a box for him to deliver around the ship and he running around as fast as he could to get it done quickly and efficiently. Each time, he would find himself hesitating outside Diaz's door, awash with curiosity at what the medicine could possibly be for. It wasn't hard to puzzle out the various vials, even though Hen hadn't identified them. Some were the same bottles he delivered elsewhere, others he recognized from his studies. Willow bark, cat's claw and ginger--pain relief.Chamomile, dried cherry, valerian, and peppermint--muscle relaxers. It was a mighty amount of herbs for the average aches of a day's work even as strenuous as the work Diaz did. 

So who is it for? Buck wondered again as he approached Diaz's door to drop off the bottles. He had just turned to leave when he heard a thump on the inside of the office followed by a yelp of pain.

Good God, that's a child. There's a child in there!

Horrible images came to the forefront of Buck's mind as he imagined why Diaz might be holding a child prisoner. A child who would require so much pain relief. His skin paled in horror and he dropped the box.

I need to help! But his hands were still tightly bandaged and the door was latched shut from the inside. Buck thumped against it with his shoulders to no avail. The sturdy wood would not give.

If only I could unlatch it from the outside... Then he had an idea. He picked up one of the envelopes he was delivering for Captain Nash. It was thin but strong. Carefully, he eased it between the door and the latch, pressing the envelope between his bandaged hands to keep his grip. 

With a click the latch came free and the door swung open.

Buck braced himself for what he might see and ventured inside, closing the door behind him.The room looked like the captain's, if smaller and simpler. Diaz's bed was neatly made, and soaked in sun from the window. His desk was neat and cleared off. The room was empty.

But I heard a child, I know I did!

Buck started looking around, when he heard a whimper of pain from the direction of the desk. Quickly he hastened over and pulled out the desk chair.

There, curled in the desk well and looking nothing like the skinny, dirty, or abused waif Buck had expected, lay a child. He looked clean and healthy, if in pain. He regarded Buck with large terrified eyes, his hair clean and curling every which way.

He was adorable. And as sure as grass was green, he was Diaz's own child.

So what is he doing hidden away in here?

The child whimpered again, obviously still in pain and Buck lurched away, back toward the bottles and vials he'd brought from Hen. "Here, let me help you, Hen sent me with a bunch of..." He fumbled with the bottles, pulling out the chamomile and the willow bark. "Here, this should help." The child shied away from him, curling deeper into the desk well with awkward jerky movements that only seemed to hurt him more.

"Oh God, please let me help, here, let me..." Buck backed up far away to give the child room and then gently pushed the vials at him. "Here. They're directly from Hen, don't worry. I haven't opened them or anything. See?" The child looked between Buck and the bottles, but didn't say anything.

"And--here, I'm leaving okay? Nothing to be afraid of, I'll leave you so you can climb out of that desk. It looks--God, you look like you're hurting so badly, is there anything I can do to help?"

The child still didn't respond, only regarded Buck with the same terrified eyes and Buck took it as his cue. He hastened to his feet and hurried to the door, away from the room. He was about to step out when he heard the child gasp and whimper again. He froze. 

The child won't let me near him, but I can't leave him like that. 

Diaz! Diaz can help him!

"I'm going to go and get your father, okay?" Buck took another step toward the door.

"Don't!" A small plaintive voice called, and Buck paused again.

"I can't just leave you like this... Wait, did your father do this to you??"

"No, no!" came the small cry. "He's the best papa ever. And..." the child paused then continued in a stronger voice. "He'll kill you if he finds out you know about me."

Buck's body froze in place. "Surely not--" The child cried out again, and Buck hastened back to the desk. The child was panting now, but still wouldn't move. "Oh, for the love of God, please let me help you!"

"Can't... don't... trust... you." Christopher panted in between pained gasps.

"Oh God, please--" Buck's voice broke and he felt himself start to cry. "I can't--you're hurting. You... I was a schoolteacher before I got onto this ship, I love kids, I swear I just want to help, please!" He reached out his bandaged hands toward the child. "Look, see? I couldn’t hurt you even if I wanted to! I--I swear I won't tell anyone about you on this ship, I'll never speak to you again. Just let me help you settle yourself more comfortably, you need to take some herbs for the pain..." He was blubbering now, his view of the child obscured by tears. He tensed as he felt small hands grasp around his bandaged hands.

"Please help." The boy whimpered.

He sobbed in relief and crooked his wrapped hands so they became large hooks to grip the child and carefully, oh so carefully pulled him out of the desk well. By this time he heard the child begin to cry as well, still on the floor. Buck quickly swiped his eyes with his threadbare sleeve to clear them. "There now, that's a bit better, I'm sure. Let's get you settled into the bed and I'll mix some medicine with water to relieve the pain.”

Buck carefully lifted the child, who whimpered at being jostled. Carefully he laid the boy on Diaz's neatly made bed and hastened back to the bottles and vials, pulling corks out with his teeth and pouring a the various powders into a tin cup. He filled the cup the rest of the way with water from a pitcher on the small wash stand and stirred it to mix before offering the cup to the child.

But the boy only shook his head, crying more."Don't want it. It tastes h-horrible." The child's big eyes were red from crying and Buck's heart broke.

"Oh, shh, there there. Yeah, I won't lie to you, it’s going to taste pretty bad. But once you drink it, you'll stop hurting so much and then you can relax and sleep or play." Buck clumsily rested a wrapped hand in the child's hair.  "How's that sound?"

Still the child shook his head.

"Okay, how about this?" Buck took a theatrical sniff and wrinkled his nose. "I'll drink some and then you have to drink the rest, okay?" None of the ingredients were harmful to someone who wasn't in pain. "Deal?"

The boy looked at him, surprised. “Really?” Buck nodded and the boy sighed. "Deal."

Buck grinned, then made a big show of sniffing the contents of the glass. "Ohh blurggh," he shuddered theatrically, and heard the slightest huff from the bed. "Oh boy, here we go." He took a sip then screwed up his face and shook it rapidly back and forth like a dog. "Heaven and earth, but that's awful!" The child giggled and Buck continued with his performance, making gagging noises and funny faces. "You must be the strongest kid I know to drink this every day."

"That's what Papa says, too." The boy smiled.

"Well, he's right. I don't think I can handle any more." Buck made one more funny face and the boy laughed again. "Okay, you ready? I'll count to five, and then you drink it all as fast as you can, okay?"

The child hesitated. "How much is five?"

Buck turned to him, eyes wide. "You don't know...?" Then he paused. No use making the boy feel bad for something that wasn’t his fault. Besides, this was Buck's specialty. "Five is a number, you'll see. I'm going to count a few numbers, and when I say five you drink that down as quickly as you can so you barely taste it, okay?"

The boy nodded. "Okay." 

"One, two, three, four... five, go!"

With Buck's clumsy assistance, the child drank down the mixture, screwing up his face just like Buck did. "Urgh."

Buck laughed. "I think you made a funnier face than I did." The boy reminded Buck of his own students. He missed children, their bright-eyed optimism, their enthusiasm for exploring the world around them. "I hope I don't die for meeting you, kid. You're just about the nicest person on this entire ship."

The child smiled. "Christopher."

Buck returned his grin and held out a bandaged hand. "Nice to meet you Christopher. I'm Buck." Christopher reached out in jerky movements and shook Buck's hand, both of them giggling at how clumsy the exchange was.

"I hope you don't die either, Buck." It seemed that the medicine was starting to work. Christopher was relaxing and his smile wasn't edged with quite so much pain anymore.

"In that case, I should probably run before your father finds me. those big strong hands of his would tear me in half like paper." Buck stood, patting Christopher on the head once more before turning away.

"...Buck?"

"Hm?" He turned back. The boy was starting to fall asleep. 

"Can... Can you come back and visit me again?"

What a terrible idea. "Of course, Christopher." Buck rummaged up a brave smile. "I'd love to see you again." An idea occurred to him suddenly and he straightened his shoulders. "I'll even teach you how to count to five all by yourself if you want?"

The boy's tired eyes lit up. "Yes. Yes please..." His eyes slipped closed and he fell asleep.

Buck smiled, feeling warmed for the first time in weeks. Carefully he gathered the scattered items for the rest of his errands and slipped from the room, latching it behind him.