Drat it! It's so hot over here I swear it could melt paint! And it's 12:48 at night!

Anyway, here's the next episode. Not as good as my others, but I had fun and that's the main thing.

Review replies;

SOLmaster: I'm very glad you noticed this! :D Your stories are utterly brilliant. Thanks for reviewing!

avatarjk137: Thanks for the concrit. I tried to improve on some things you mentioned there in this story, hopefully I've succeeded a little. Thanks for reading!

TweenisodeOrange: You ain't seen nuthin' yet. X) Thanks for the review!

Zim'sMostLoyalServant: I like intercontinuity. :P Glad you liked it. Thanks very much!


Episode Seven: The Fine Line

Once again, the Krusty Krab had docked in the pirate haven of Tortuga.

The moon was full and a light sea breeze wafted through the night. People of all walks of life wandered the dirty, torch-lit streets of the port, intermingling with animals and insects as they went.

"Tortuga," nodded Jimmy, dully, "Forgot how much I missed this place."

"Well, if we're gonna get this map decoded," shrugged Sandy, holding up the map to Captain Kidd's treasure, "There ain't anywhere else you can find a decent code breaker."

"What about Port Royal?" asked Jimmy.

"You wanna get shot by the Navy?" shot Danny, "Anyway, I know a guy. We'll find him down the road from the Governor's Mansion."

He pointed to the mansion on the hill.

"Isn't it a bit dangerous for pirates to go up there?" mused Tommy, "I mean, the mansion's is gonna be guarded, right?"

"Nah," shrugged Danny, "The guards up there are cool. Just don't tell them you're a pirate and they won't give you a second glance!"

"This all seems too easy," said Timmy, pessimistically.

"What?" snapped Jenny, "Does everything we do have to be dangerous?"

"I'm just saying," said Timmy, shrugging defensively.

They followed Danny uphill, Timmy moodily crossing his arms as he went.


Sam Melnick was working the counter at the Nasty Burger when they came in.

The bald man raised his eyebrow as the two individuals swaggered towards him, dressed in clean, rich attire. It was easy to tell that they were out of town.

The leader of the two, a Hispanic individual in a jacket, placed his elbow on the counter and calmly asked a question.

"Are you familiar with Timmy Turner?"

"I see a lot of people," shrugged Sam, "Can you describe him?"

"He's short," replied the Hispanic man, "His teeth are the stuff of legend, and there's that feo pink garment on his head…"

"Oh, that guy," nodded Sam, "He was here a bit earlier, but he left to see this guy on the hill."

"Which guy?" demanded the other person, a blonde haired boy with a condensing expression.

"He doesn't have a name," replied Sam, "Keeps to himself, most of the time. He's one heck of a writer though, and he can read and write just about any language. People call him the 'Ghost Writer.'"

"The Ghost Writer," mused the larger one, "Where does he live?"

"Up in a hut near the governor's place," shrugged Sam, "You can't miss it; it has a bucket full of burnt paper outside."

The Hispanic man nodded.

"Very well," he thanked, "Agradece, senor."

"Yeah, whatever," shrugged Sam, "Move along."

The two individuals left the Nasty Burger, leaving Sam alone.


The hut was a small one, a few hundred metres down the dirt road from the governor's mansion. The smell of burning paper was strong, but not as strong as the smell of powder.

Across the road from the hut was a storehouse, which the French guards of the governor used to store the gunpowder and components for their cannons. It was quiet at the moment – the guards were off duty and the storehouse was locked, but the lingering stench of the day's work was still very much present.

Danny crept up to the hut door, looked both ways, and knocked three times on the door.

A small flap opened on the door, and a pair of eyes peered out.

"Sycorax," declared Danny.

The eyes narrowed.

"Daniel Fenton," a voice sneered, "Didn't I ban you from this hut?"

"That was two years ago," snapped Danny, "Anyway, we'll need your help. Thirty doubloons."

"Sixty," growled the voice.

"Done," groaned Danny.

The door opened.

The Ghost Writer was a tall, bespectacled man with a goatee and rough, unkempt hair. He wore a long, brown coat. His arms were crossed, and he was giving Danny a very dirty look.

"You destroyed my poem," he accused.

"It was an accident," snapped Danny.

"Can we just get this over with?" sighed Jimmy.

"Very well," nodded the Ghost Writer, "Daniel, I will allow you to bring inside one of your friends. I don't want to risk too much damage."

"Alright," nodded Spongebob, "I'll just…"

"Actually, I'll take Jimmy," decided Danny, "No offence, he's just better at these kinds of things."

"Oh," sighed Spongebob, somewhat disappointedly.

As Danny and Jimmy stepped into the hut, the Ghost Writer passed a glare over Timmy.

"Oh, you," he snarled, "I have a message for someone of your description. Are you Timmy Turner?"

"Yeah," shrugged Timmy.

"I've been asked to tell you something," said the Writer, pulling a small scrap of paper from his coat.

"You walk a very fine line," he read, "Be sure you do not cross it."

The Ghost Writer huffed at Timmy's confused expression.

"I wouldn't ignore a message from Davy Jones, boy," he growled.

He stepped back into his hut and slammed the door.

Timmy blinked.

"What the heck was that?" he asked.


Behind the storehouse, Wandissimo and Remy were spying on the pirates, waiting to make their move.

"It's Turner we want, right?" snapped Remy, "Because I want him to learn that nobody threatens me…"

"Patience, Remy, patience," soothed Wandissimo, "We do this right."

He drew his wand, and conjured a longbow.

"A longbow," he explained, "Far more accurate then a musket, and much quieter."

He chuckled, and took aim.

"Constante…constante…" he murmured to himself.

He pulled back the string, held his breath…and fired.


Roughly one second earlier, Spongebob noticed a silver coin on the ground. He gave a grin, and leant down to pick it up.

TWUNK!

Spongebob glanced quickly up, seeing the arrow in the door. He jumped.

"Where'd that come from?" he gasped.

Then, they heard a yell.

Remy swore very loudly.

"Remy!" snapped Wandissimo, "Watch your tongue!"

"Drat it," snarled Remy, "You can't even hit the sponge? He's right there!"

He pointed angrily to the sponge, exposing himself in the process.

"Remy!" cried Timmy, jumping to his feet and drawing his sword.

Wandissimo sighed heavily.

"Turner," called Remy, a scowl on his face, "We're here for you! You cannot escape."

"Remy," groaned Wandissimo, "We had a plan."

"Sod the plan!" barked Remy, baring his blade, "I'm taking him on!"

He ran towards Timmy, leaving a fuming Wandissimo behind.


Timmy had wasted no time in making his own charge at the rich boy, and the two met at the door to the storehouse, their swords coming together with a metallic clash.

Timmy jumped back, dodging a quick stab from Remy. He sidestepped, blocking a slash from his opponent to the right of him.

"I thought we were done!" snapped Timmy, "I told would happen if you…"

"Who said anything about telling?" Remy laughed humourlessly, "I'm just here to kill you!"

"Why?" demanded Timmy, having a chop at Remy's abdomen blocked, "You're not a murderer, Remy!"

"So says the pirate," sneered Remy.

Timmy rolled his eyes, and booted his opponent in the gut. Remy stumbled, and dropped his sword.

"You cheat!" he snarled.

"So says the privateer," imitated Timmy.

Remy gave a nasty grin.

"Two can play at that one," he chuckled.

He jumped to his feet, and ran to a window in the storehouse. He leapt toward it, and slid through the small opening into the building. Timmy was quick in following, leaving the other pirates alone.

"I guess we should follow them," shrugged Arnold.

"Alright, me and Sandy will go get Timmy," nodded Spongebob.

"The rest of you guys can make sure Wandissimo doesn't get away," added Sandy, pointing over to the privateer, his head still in his hands.

"Got it," acknowledged Tommy, drawing his cutlass, "See you guys back at the ship."

Spongebob and Sandy ran for the storehouse and slipped through the windows.


Remy hid behind a barrel of gunpowder, a grin on his face.

"Hey, Turner!" he called glancing at his enemy in the darkened main storage room, "Do you like fireworks?"

"Oh, come on!" snapped Timmy, "You're not that stupid. You'll blow up the whole building."

Remy gave a guffaw, and crept over to a pile of bombs against the corner. He grabbed a match and grinned.

"Try me."

Timmy shook his head, and began to march towards his foe.

It was then that Remy lit the fuse and threw the bomb. Timmy dived to the ground as it landed nearby and exploded into flames, setting the dirt floor on fire.

"You idiot!" snapped Timmy.

He ran to Remy and grabbed him by the collar.

"Come on," he snarled, "We're getting out of here."

"No," growled Remy, "You're not."

He booted Timmy in the ribs. Gasping, Timmy fell onto his back, gasping for air as his sword flew out of his hands.

Remy gave a cruel smile and picked up the sword.

"What's up with you, Remy?" demanded Timmy, "I mean, you're bad, but you're not this bad…"

"Your blackmail hit a nerve, Turner," growled Remy, "I don't like being played with."

There was a bang, and a barrel of gunpowder erupted into an oblivion of sulphur.

"You think you can threaten me with severing my relationship with Wandissimo?" snapped Remy, "You think we have the same relationship you have with Cosmo and Wanda, don't you?"

He spat in Timmy's face. Timmy grimaced, and wiped the saliva from his cheeks.

"Wandissimo and I, we're partners at best," Remy snarled, "But you! You never realise how lucky you really are."

He bared his teeth.

"I was alone, Turner," Remy continued, unaware of the building flames, "My parents ignored me, my shipmates held me in contempt, and my godfather cares more for his old flame then he does for me! You, on the hand, had everything – loving if oblivious parents, real friends, and actual care and love from your godparents!"

Remy's voice rose into a yell.

"You didn't just get fairies, Turner!" he thundered, "You got a family!"

"Fairies?"

Both Timmy and Remy glanced towards the door. Spongebob and Sandy had entered the room. Sandy wore a confused expression, as Spongebob pointed nervously to the fire.

Timmy was as white as a sheet, but Remy simply gave a nasty grin.

"Yes," he chuckled, "Timmy Turner has it all. He got the power, he got the servants…he got love."

"Remy," breathed Timmy, "Don't…"

"Timmy Turner has fairy godparents!" shouted Remy.

Sandy tilted her head, noting the crazed look in Remy's eye and the utterly sick expression on Timmy's face.

"…you what?" she mused, confused.

Spongebob shifted his feet.

"Uh…can you forget you heard that?" he mumbled.

There was a sudden, brilliant explosion in the centre of the room, and a hulking figure with a giant staff stood before Timmy, a stern expression on his face.

"Timmy Turner," he growled in a thick Austrian accent, "You have had your fairy godparents revealed! And now…"

"NO!"

Timmy jumped to his feet and ran out the back door, down the stairs into the forge. Remy growled, and ran after him.

The hulking figure made to follow.

Next to him, a barrel of powder exploded. The man fell to the ground, his staff sliding away from him. The man howled, and held his leg.

"My leg!" he roared, "My glorious, muscular leg!"

"We should probably help him," mused Sandy.

"…you're not weirded out by this?" asked Spongebob.

"Time and a place," snapped Sandy, "C'mon. Help me get this feller out of here."


Remy ran into the forge.

He froze.

Timmy was standing before him, a look of pure loathing on his face and a very large blunderbuss in his hands.

"How does it feel to be defenceless, Remy," snarled Timmy.

Remy shook his head.

"Oh, you wouldn't!" he chuckled.

Timmy marched up to Remy, and swung the blunderbuss over his head, knocking him to the floor. As Remy held his head, Timmy aimed the weapon at his forehead.

"Wouldn't I?" challenged Timmy.

"Now…now, think about this," he pleaded, "You wouldn't…you wouldn't dare…"

Remy whimpered as his enemy held the weapon at his head.

Timmy's mind flashed back.

"I win again. You, madam, have been corrupted. For you see, threats like that are the first step on the road from where you are…to where I am."

"You walk a very fine line. Be sure you do not cross it."

Timmy dropped the blunderbuss.

"What am I doing?" he asked himself in horror.

There was a bang from upstairs. Timmy glanced to Remy, and then to the stairs. If he ran, he could get out in time to save himself. He could leave Remy, it wouldn't be his fault…

Timmy shook the thoughts from his head, and grabbed Remy in a fireman's hold. Breathing deeply, he made his run.

He darted through the burning storehouse, coughing from the choking smoke. He could barely see, but somehow, he found the door. It had been forced open before him, and the pirate ran out into fresh air.

He dropped Remy to the ground, coughed heavily, and fell to the dirt, unconscious.


Timmy blinked rapidly.

He was lying in his hammock, under the decks of the Krusty Krab. Everything seemed in order – the lamps were lit, the wood was damp and Jorgen was leaning over him.

Timmy jumped.

"Jorgen!" he gasped, "I can explain…"

Jorgen shook his head.

"I don't know why I do these things for you, tiny Timmy Turner," snarled Jorgen.

"Wh-what things?" asked Timmy, "Y-you're not gonna…"

"This is your very last chance, Turner," growled Jorgen, "Your very last chance. The same goes for puny Buxaplenty over on the Wanda."

"I…uh…so you wiped her memory, then?" asked Timmy, "Well…thanks, I guess."

"I never said that," snapped Jorgen.

He exploded away, leaving Timmy alone.

Timmy thought the conversation over.

Remy was back on his ship, which was OK…he guessed. He was alive, which was always a plus.

And Sandy knew.

That was not a plus.

Timmy lay back on his hammock and groaned.

He was not looking forward to tomorrow.

"Well, look on the bright side," he groaned, "At least we got that map decoded."


Always look on the bright side of life! Dodo - dododo!