Mother, May I Trust the Government?

By Jashi

N O T E: I don't own PotC. This is slash, and it's Anamaria/Elizabeth. That means women loving women. Please enjoy this fic. I have no idea how long it's gonna be. I got the title from a Pink Floyd poster.

CHAPTER UNE (The Prologue)

When you live on the sea-coast all of your life, you eventually get sick of the color blue. On a bad day, you can't stand it, and lean towards a bright color, like yellow or red. Something the opposite of blue, especially that authentic, lovely blue of the sea. The blue that is not quite blue, but green and grey and a hint of blue all mixed together with white cresting the top. You wish to look at something other than the ocean on a cloudy day, when the sea matches the sky and in the distance you cannot tell which is which.

I met him on a day like that.

I was little, a young girl in the care of my father on a ship. When they pulled him ashore, he was blue with cold and white from the sea salt. He smelled of fire and smoke from the burning ship and the charred wood he lay across, unconscious. He matched the sea that day, a lonesome sprite drowning in the air, away from the ocean where he was supposed to lay.

They pulled him up on the boat, and someone told me he was in my care. I noticed something gold glimmer on his neck, and reached out, my childish innocence taking over my hands, and touched it gently, pulling it up from his collar. It was a gold chain, with an aurous medallion, small in size, hanging from it. It was strange, a sinister beauty with its harsh skulls dancing on the golden disk.

Pirate gold.

He awoke then, and scared the wits out of me as he sat up.

"Where am I?" he questioned weakly.

"Who are you?" I retorted, thinking he was a pirate and deserved no respect as I had been taught.

"Will Turner." he breathed, and fell back again, exhausted.

Years have passed…and years will come.

Pirates are not what they seem. Some are the most lovably deplorable creatures on the earth.

I love one.

The opposite of blue. Truly a diamond in the rough. Illusion hides the truth in many ways. This was the most remarkable. Because black is the most beautiful color if you see it in the right light.

My father works in the government. I never knew my mother. He taught me the laws. He told me pirates were terrible, terrible rapists and raiders, murderers and scoundrels. They would kidnap a girl like me and eat me with a thousand others. The government was supposed to protect me from them, hold me in it's unphysical arms with love and devotion like it had for all civilized beings. Keep you in the dark, or in the light, as they say, from everything in the world.

But, mother, may I trust the government?

Aye, I'm not really a lady. I'm not really a pirate. But I'm not quite what ye'd call civilized neither. I'm a darky, as some call me. Makes me burn with anger.

My skin ain't white as the salt that lotsa folks have. My hair is darker than the night when there ain't a moon to walk by. If eyes are dark with emotion and lust then that's what my eyes are. They are dark.

Jus' like me.

S'alright. I like me. I'd rather be a cross between a pirate an' a lady then be just a pirate or just a fancy, dolled-up lass on the mainland, strutting about the streets, suffocating in corsets, bonnets adorning their heads. Flowers all over their dresses and in their hair, makin' 'em carry the spring season everywhere they go. Pirates…pirates are no good if ye have no heart and only that damned lust fo' gold and jewels. They try and fill 'em selves up with the whores and the gold and the rum and the sea-salt air but they can't. And they die unhappy, never findin' what they're lookin' fo'.

I gotta heart. I never once was happy 'cause o' gold or jewels. She made me happy. She made me laugh. She made me feel things I never knew were there. I know now why pirates die unhappy.

They can't feel what I feel.

I didn't know me mum. Me da died when I was ten or so. Me brother…he was taken to a colony. A colony very far away, 'cross the sea. Slaves. Damn the government. Who are we ta be pulled away from where we stood first?

I stand here.

Without trust for anything. 'Cept her. I trust 'er.

Be a bit o' nothing without her.

Damn 'em for takin' me brother. Damn 'em for everything. I was taught after it I was inferior and not fit ta serve the ones who had sea-salt skin.

But, momma, do I trust the government?