wow, 2 in one day! you guys have me so motivated. it does not help that i saw PotC4 for the third time today lol! i really liked it. anyways, this fic follows the general set-up of "Pointing Something at Me" and "If It's Not", where I write about a scene of their past based on a particular scene and quote in the movie. the italics are the flashbacks, and in the flashbacks 'he' is obviously Captain Jack Sparrow. i have not read the Jack Sparrow series or the other ones but my reckoning is that he met Angelica 11-13 years before PotC2, during the 2 years he was actually Captain of the Black Pearl.

anyways, these characters are not mine. enjoy! :]


Two cries of pain erupted into the air as Angelica watched, in slight horror, as the Quartermaster slit his dagger across the missionary's chest. Philip slumped to the ground. But it was not to poor Philip to whom the Spanish pirate turned to. It was not Philip's cry that churned her stomach and brought a bitter taste to her mouth. As much as she respected, even come to admire, the young man, there were several times when she feared for his life. His rashness, she often found, bordered foolishness if not out-right stupidity.

No, it was not the missionary but the mermaid's cry that touched her and made her want to sing out her own mournful cry. Syrena, the mermaid for whom Philip had chosen to defend, had turned her head away from the sight of his body crumpling to the ground in a lifeless heap, her face screwed up in a grimace of emotional pain and sorrow. Angelica had no idea if the name by which she was now referred to was indeed her name or simply made up by the young missionary to instill more human-like qualities within this beautiful creature. Either way, it did not matter; the cry that rose into the air would have pierced the woman's heart even if the mermaid had remained nameless.

Angelica watched as the men wrenched the mermaid's face up, trying to catch but one tear; yet she knew that it was in vain and that the men would look up fruitless. Syrena was now glaring at Blackbeard, her papa, with open loathing. Anger – an extremely powerful emotion that could overrule any other emotion, even sorrow for fallen love. Angelica knew this; she knew this well. She, too, had experienced an event with which anger had consumed her soul and forbidden the tears to fall.

Angelica stood at the edge of the dock on el río Guadalquivir. She did not know what she was feeling as she gazed out at the river. She did not know what she should be feeling. It felt as if she had them all raging war against each other inside of her, fighting over which would rule her emotion.

It was about three o'clock in the afternoon, la hora de la siesta, which meant that the city of Sevilla was calm and quiet. No one was out on the docks; not a single boat was bobbing along the waters of el río. The river was, therefore, exceptionally calm and still; the waters were a mirror, reflecting the trees that bordered it on the other side. The afternoon sun danced upon the surface, making Guadalquivir glitter as if it were laden with millions of diamonds.

Diamonds. She ought to have one on her finger by now. But she had said no. She had broken off the engagement. She had been ready, so ready, but she had turned away. Because of him.

Anger consumed her as she thought this, and suddenly nothing was muddled. She hated him. She hated him! How dare he barge into her life, taking everything, and then just leave without any consideration to her wellbeing! She had trusted him. She had loved him! For sixteen days he had made his way to her side, to eat, to talk, to fence, to love. It was with him that she had learned all the passions of life. She had given him everything! She had believed that he had loved her in return, that he had felt what had been left unspoken. She had believed that they had fallen into one life, in body, mind, and spirit.

Apparently, she had been the fool. He had left Sevilla, left her, without a backwards glance. He had not met her yesterday evening at the restaurant. He had not appeared at her window last night, as he normally did to gain invited admission to her bed. He had not surprised her that morning with a foreign spice or string of pearls or salty kiss. She had not seen him since they had made love two nights ago in his cabin aboard the Black Pearl; at least, she had thought it was love they were making, until she found him gone, without a wave, without a farewell, without a kiss.

He had used her. As soon as he had gotten his fill of bodily pleasure he had left. He had used her! Bueno, si así era, ¡que se fuera pal carajo!

Angelica was enraged, and the sight of the river, in it's still and peaceful state, only caused her more anger. She bent down to pick up a rock and then, bringing her arm all the way back, she threw it out into the river, where it landed with a resounding splash. Ripples broke out across the once-smooth surface. She grabbed another, and another, and another, flinging them out one by one with all her might until she stood with her arms aching and her breathing heavy. Somehow, she got satisfaction from seeing the water fight over which direction to flow.

Te odio, she thought venomously as she plopped down on the wooden dock, crossing her arms over her chest. As she glared at the water, refusing to let any water flow from her, she wished that the conflicting and clashing ripples would find their way to his ship, his precious Pearl, and alert him of the bitter hatred he left burning behind.

They were turning away, leaving Syrena to her fate, when her papá addressed her.

"You are confident about this?"

She knew immediately that he was referring to leaving Syrena overnight to muse the current events over and thereby obtain a tear from her.

"Yes," she answered him truthfully. "I am a woman,"

The tears came. It had taken a night and a day but the tears came nonetheless. Her chest hurt, as if someone was tearing at her heart. She was drowning in her own sorrow and shame and hurt. If this was what it felt like to be heart-broken, then she would rather never love again and save herself the pain. She stuffed her face in her pillows as a heart-wrenching cry rippled from her throat and a choked sobs shook her whole being.¡Ay Dios, cómo ella le extrañaba! And as if that were not pain enough, she was left knowing that he had left her for good and that she would never see him again.

"And so is she." She finished softly, sparing one last, pitying look at Syrena before falling in step beside her father.

Because though anger is strong enough to mask it for a time, it can never make the pain truly disappear.


i added a lot of Spanish phrases in here, so i figured i would translate them here at the bottom.

el río Guadalquivir = the Guadalquivir River. ("río" means river, and Gaudalquivir is the river that runs by Sevilla.)

la hora de la siesta = nap time/relax time. Spain still has this today, where you take una siesta por el mediodía - during the afternoon. businesses, shops, and everything closes at a particular time period.

Sevilla = Spanish [and therefore correct] form of Seville, the city in which Angelica grew up and was "corrupted" by Jack. :]

"Bueno, si así era, ¡que se fuera pal carajo!" = "Well fine, if that's the way it was then he could go to hell!"

Te odio = i hate you (strong connotation, not used as an exaggeration for "dislike". connotation-wise, it's got the same weight as "loathing")

papá = dad

"¡Ay Dios, cómo ella le extrañaba!" = "Oh God, how she missed him!"

yep, that should be about it. reviews are much appreciated :]