Title: Time Cannot Erase

Characters (Involved in Chapters): Grapple, Mallot, Jacoby, Sara (OC), Allen Hobbs (OC), Molly (OC)

Disclaimer: The song lyrics this was inspired by are from Evanescence's 'My Immortal'. You can see them at http: endor./ org/ evanescence lyrics.asp?Submit=View Lyrics&AlbumID=4&SongID=31 Of course, no spaces in the URL.

Summary: An unconscious biography of a character that is marked with death, angst, violence, love and blood.

Author's Notes: Originally a one-shot, I edited it for it was way to long.

One: Home

I'm sitting out here on the deck of this blasted vessel. I can't seem to get away, physically or mentally. Every time my mind tries to go home, it flickers back here. Surely I'm not staying here for the rest of my hopefully short life? I do want to go home, but...then again, there's that lingering... I don't know the word for it. I'll just use 'emotion'; it's simple and close enough.

I've called many places home, even though most of them have not known my presence for any more then a month. Even where I was born, my mother (Hell curse the slut) told me I could never sit still. It wasn't that I was restless. I was merely uncomfortable. I was always 'uncomfortable' at home. I wasn't wanted, I wasn't even acknowledged. When mother wasn't screaming at her brood, or fucking some snake, she was fighting with father (Hell burn him slowly and painfully). She was always having affairs, and so was he. What's ironic is she got upset when she caught him. And she did. Often.

I caught him once, completely by accident. It...affected my mind for life, really. I've long forgotten why I was going into that wing of the house. It was off limits to us children. There were seven of us, Mallot and I included. Regardless, it happened. Father was pushing Amelia against his desk, calling her a whore, a slut, a sleazy bitch. I just stood in the open doorway and stared. Not in disbelief, or horror as one might suspect a ten-year-old child to do. I was just...I couldn't react. I wanted to yell at him, throw something, run and help her somehow. He was quicker, though. Naturally. He had a reputation as a respectable gentleman of the court to uphold.

Huh. No matter how times I think about it, it was a terrible way to cover things.

Anyways, he dragged me away by my collar and flung me down one of the staircases. It had forty-three steps, as I recall. I counted them as I tumbled down. Mother was there though, and for once she did something that was best for one of her offspring. She started yelling and followed with screaming. I crawled off elsewhere. My ankle had been sprained; least I would have walked off.

We were the only two sons, Jonathan and I. The other five of my siblings were all girls. They all had blue or hazel eyes. There were only three of us that were really my father's children. Amelia, Jonathan and I. While Amelia and I had our father's glassy brown eyes, Jonathan had storm cloud grey eyes, which were incredibly suspicious, but he really is my full-blooded brother. Sometimes he jokes, it's a worse curse for me then what the Aztecs did.

Damn Gods...this is their entire fault. I was never religious; Sara often reminded me when I let slip the occasional 'God' in my words. Damn it, this is my entire fault...God how I miss her. She was worth it, the pain. She was worth all the suffering...She simply had whatever made things better.

I wish she hadn't...

After I left the room, I found Jonathan in the kitchen, stealing cookies of all things. He's always been a troublemaker. He saw me and asked what was wrong. I explained what had happened, though I'm not sure he fully understood it at the time. He does now, though. We've both grown and learned.

Since I had witnessed father trying to rape Amelia, he realized I would reveal his sinister self. He tried so many plots to kill me...in the house, for Christ's sake, in our own home in front of everybody! I left when I was twelve. I just couldn't take it anymore, simply. It had gone far enough, and Jonathan realized this as well. He left with me. We had heard about a place in Jamaica just off the island of Hispaniola. Although primarily the French ran it, we figured it was good enough. People lay low there all the time, and we did speak a fair amount of French, being educated at early ages.

We went to the shipyard and with what little money I brought, decided buying passage wasn't a good idea. Instead, we, being silly children (I look back at this and laugh for numerous reasons) stowed away. Apparently, it was a six-month journey from our port to the Caribbean. It didn't work, for obvious reasons. We were caught and, as it happened, the French caught us. Damn French. Mallot spoke English without thinking and we were landed in the brig with the other slaves. Negroes and whites without French origin greeted us.

It was a tight knitted group. If one person was sick, we all took care of them. If a mother went into labor, we all helped her by it. If one person didn't eat, none of us did. Six months of brutal care, sickness, starvation and ailment was not to be ours, however. Mallot and I were both very young and, thus, spirited. We refused to accept such harsh treatment and got lashed many times. What saved us, though I should say whom, was Hobbs.

Allen Hobbs, ex-noble in the court of the British king and gentleman, did not like the idea of English-speaking white slaves. He purchased many of us as let us go our own ways. Of course, Mallot and I didn't have anywhere to go. He took us home with him. Bought passage for us to go with him on a four-month voyage to Hispaniola, where we would be transported to Tortuga. He treated us like sons, to which we were grateful. This man was the father we should have had.

He found amusement in my accent more then Jonathan's. I had a very odd voice that seemed playful and concerned, as he described it. Plus I had the accent of the Australian criminal colony. My family had been settlers there, though because I had never stayed near the house to long and secluded myself rather, to the barns and land, I hadn't developed the British accent of my parents, but the accent of the servants and locals. I even had met some of the aboriginals, though I had hardly understood them. When the one that knew English spoke it, I had to ask my friend (who was looked down upon by my parents as he was a groom) to translate. I got used to them, though.

When we did arrive in Tortuga, we discovered it really was a good place to lay low. Just about everybody was a crook, a pirate, a whore or some form of unlawful citizen. Mallot loved it. I was cautious but adapted, and I to grew to love it. It was my future home, after all.

Pausing in my thoughts, it's grown a little louder on the deck for this time of night. Mallot and I have been given the deathwatch, so we were the only two up here. Jacoby just got thrown out of the barracks again. Poor bastard, his beard is just too insane. Religious or not, it's a fire hazard and has caused many problems onboard. However, as I go on, he's helpfully lit up the lantern that went out about ten minutes ago. Poor bastard...we josh him so bad. Ah, but he's insane and takes it well. We always stop before he goes berserk, to. Never make him furious; we have to keep in mind. He can fight like nobody's business, and those grenadas are lethal. Of course, we're immortal...can't even feel pain, but it's a constant habit still to avoid getting blown up to smithereens. When and if we're uncursed, our hearts have to be intact. To late for me though. I fell in love, which is never a good thing. It was honest to God love. But my heart is...not there anymore.

Hobbs had only one child of his own. His wife, Molly, became barren due to birth complications after her first, though they loved that child of theirs like she was a Goddess, and oh, she very might have well been...Sara was the name of their daughter. I flinch every time I hear it. It was once beautiful, now it's painful like that horrible squeaking sound Ragetti's eye makes when he tries to clean it.

Sara was a half a year younger then I, though we were the same age periodically. She was a very pretty child, with auburn hair that had waves in it. It went to her shoulder blades, always, except when she did it up or braided it. Her eyes were a beautiful velvet brown colour and she was not incredibly skinny but she had a very attractive figure as a young woman. She was always a half a foot shorter then I, even while we were growing. We took an immediate liking to each other, though it didn't start out as love, or even a simple fancy.

She knew how to ride horses, which I found fascinating. I didn't think Hobbs, a gentleman of higher society, would allow his daughter to ride, let alone straddle the beast's back. Mallot said it was because Molly liked spoiling her only child, and Hobbs had no reign over the feisty woman. Funny, though, Molly was very protective, like a hen. Motherly plump little thing, she is. At least, I hope she's still alive. I haven't seen any of them in at least four years.

Sara and I found common interests after another. She even got along finely with Jonathan, who seemed intent on out-doing her in what he refers to as 'man things'. She found the competition fun. I guess we were simply a trio of close friends that were meant to be such a thing.

It wasn't all fun and games, of course. We were expected to earn our keep. Both us boys learned to serve drinks, as Hobbs owned a tavern called The Black Dragon which received high financial profits. We learned to keep track of the money and how to prevent the silliest of brawls. We also mucked the stalls in the small barn in the back. Although there were only five stalls and a loft (it was small, after all!), Jonathan hated cleaning it. I loved it; I had always helped with the boys that worked in our stables at my old home. As we got older, we learned how to settle complicated matters such as the occasional accident when one of the whores that 'belonged' to the tavern got pregnant. We also kept them safe. Jonathan had his shoulders dislocated once because of it. Hobbs also signed us up on ships. We learned the art of sailing and became pirates. Hobbs had expected this, and when we asked him why he encouraged our criminal activity, he said it was financial benefit and educational for both of us. So, we continued on with piracy, even adopted unique weapons and new names. I could never stand my old one. Trevor. Pfft. Very British...

When we weren't working, we used my 'room', the loft in the barn, as our port-of-call. I taught Sara secretly how to read. Once Hobbs found out and burned the books I had been using to teach her. He said it wouldn't be useful for her in her life. She brought new books and I continued to teach her. Jonathan liked to learn anything; he even enjoyed trying to learn a foreign language. He hung out with all the men who could speak any other language then English fluently. I think he's fluent in German to this day.

Ah, I have proof. Jacoby just burnt a bit of Mallot's sleeve. He's cursing in German like he was born in the country! Heh. Good boy, just arrogant.

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