Memories and Messages

And so begins chapter 3. For some reason this one was really hard to right and it took a while to get it right. Cookies for all of my reviewers, and if you didn't review then you have to go sit in the corner. ENJOY!

Weatherby Swann was surprised to see Elizabeth up and about when he entered her room the next morning. He had expected her to be at least a bit traumatized after her ordeal, but instead found her as cheerful as ever, moving about the room, getting her hair in order, her shoes on, and fixing her dress.

Just like her mother, he thought with a smile.

"Good morning father," she said upon him entering the room.

"Good morning to you, Elizabeth. I'm glad to see you are up and moving, especially after the events of last night," he replied back.

She seemed to tense slightly at mention of this, but shrugged it off quickly.

"Yes, well, I don't want to dwell on it," she said, and he heard the slight quake in her voice.

"I guess it's a reminder of the dangers of traveling alone, especially at night. It's dangerous for a woman like yourself, but you…"

"If you came here to give me a speech on what I can and can't do, then you're wasting your breath," she shot back hotly. "If you have forgotten, Will is my fiancé. And if sneaking there in the middle of the night is the only way I'm going to see him then that's what I'm going to do."

"Yes, I know, and I plan of remedying that, you see…"

But Elizabeth, caught up in her ranting and raving, didn't hear him and continued on her crusade.

"I understand it if you don't approve of him, but he's not marrying you. I love Will, and if you truly care for me then…wait, what did you say?"

She turned back to face him with a mixture of shock and confusion written across her face. Weatherby smiled at his daughter and began to walk towards her.

"Elizabeth, last night I realized something. You truly love William, enough to risk yourself to see him. However, while you may be willing to accept the dangers of these nightly escapades, I am not. You are all I have left, and I do not want to lose you like I lost your mother. So, while it may not be the most proper union, it is definitely the most… compatible one. So I want you to be happy and marry Mr. Turner, if that is what your heart says."

Elizabeth's gasped could have sucked the air out the room, and the smile that spread across her face moments after that made everything worth it for Weatherby Swann.

"Oh father, thank you so much."

She wrapped her arms around her neck and hugged him so tight; it knocked the breath out of him.

"Well," he said, hugging her back. "I almost lost you; it's worth a little effort to keep that from happening again. If it wasn't for Miss. Vargas, I might not be hugging you right now."

Elizabeth broke the tender hug with her father and went back to her morning preparations; grabbing a large pad and dabbing powder on her cheeks.

"Speaking of which, how is she?" Elizabeth asked, finally letting go of her father.

"Well, I haven't sent anyone to check on her," he said, turning to walk out the door. "But I'm sure she's doing just fine."

Smack!

My forehead hit against the wall.

How could this happen?

I leaned my head back, and then brought it right back down onto the white wall.

Smack!

This isn't possible.

Smack!

Shit.

Smack!

Shit.

Smack!

"Ow," I grunted, for that last hit was particularly hard increased my headache tenfold.

Deciding to give my aching head a rest, I fell back onto the wood floor and dropped my head into my hands; running my sweaty hands through my tangled, curly brown hair.

After the initial panic of waking up in an unknown bed in an unknown room, I proceeded to get extremely frustrated at last nights remembered revelation. I decided to take out my anger of the wooden table on the far side of the room which turned out not to be such a good idea because as soon as my fist's hit the table, the forgotten injuries on my hand began to hurt like hell. In response to that, I kicked the table leg, which in turn stubbed my toe. After letting loose a string of curses that would make Tony Soprano blush, I resolved to banging my head against the wall.

"What the fuck!" I yelled out in frustration, not caring if anybody heard me. I simply laid there, eyes closed, wondering what I was going to do.

A knock on the door made me jump and my eyes snap open.

"Miss Vargas," a female voice called. "Breakfast is ready and waiting in the dinning room."

"Thanks," I called back. "Be there momentarily."

I sighed and turned over; spotting my three bags piled in a corner by the bed. Quickly crawling over to them I sat up.

"Let's see what's inside," I muttered, unzipping the first bag.

I was pretty sure everything I owned was in that bag.

Crammed in one end was a drum pad, complete with two sets of sticks, a small amp, my CD case, a case of Bawls, and my personals bag. On the other side were my laptops, my Ipod, Ipod speakers, and any cords I would possibly ever need.

Where the hell was I going?

I grabbed my PC and zipped the bag shut. I flipped it open, held my breath and pressed the power button. The black screen flickered to life and I nearly cried out in joy. While it loaded, I went back and opened the second of the identical bags.

My eyes widened in surprise when I saw the contents of the bag.

Clothes.

Lots and lots of clothes. New ones, still with the tags, along with three pairs of shoes; all stuffed in random department store sacks.

Was I planning on coming here?

A familiar beep signaled my computer was ready. Grabbing the screen, I set it on the bed and logged in. Clicking Start, I went straight to Firefox.

Error loading page. Please check connection.

No fucking Internet dumbass.

Hoping to find some background information of my whearabouts, I opened Encarta Encyclopedia. Moving the cursor to search I typed in 1707 and hit enter.

The first result that came up was a timeline of the last century. Clicking that link, I scanned over the events from 1600 to 1720 (a skill I honed in high school). One particular event caught my eye.

Age of Victorian Society and Mannerisms

I clicked it and began reading the article.

The more I read, the more I realized who totally screwed I was. I had only finished the first page when I violently shut the lid of my computer and pressed my face against the mattress.

I was so incredibly fucked.

The second thing Elizabeth noticed about Annalisa was that she had no sense of table manners at all.

She wandered in the dining room looking like a lost puppy and dressed in pants, shoes, and a short sleeved shirt that had The Used printed on the front.

"Well good morning," Elizabeth said smiling, ignoring the revealing and indecent clothes. "I hope you slept well."

"Good enough I guess," she replied, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. "Although I am a bit curious as to how I ended up there."

Elizabeth chuckled a bit at the memory, "Well you sort of, uh, fell asleep in the chair last night, and so Commordore Norrington carried you up to a guest bedroom."

"Oh," was all Annalisa said, still looking around cautiously, as if she were certain ghosts were going to pop out of the walls and attack her. .

Silence stood between them until Elizabeth said, "You must be hungry, please, take a seat."

Annalisa didn't move and for a moment Elizabeth thought she might refuse. But then she walked forward, pulled out the chair right in front of Elizabeth, and sat down.

As if on cue, two servants walked in a placed a plate full of fruit and bread in front of them.

"Thank you," Elizabeth said curtly at the same time Annalisa muttered, "Thanks,"

Elizabeth picked up her fork and knife and cut a thin slice off a peach. She stuck her fork into the soft fruit and brought it to her mouth. As she ate it, Elizabeth looked up to see Annalisa take a huge bite of a similar peach, letting the juice dribble down her chin before wiping it on a corner of her shirt.

No manners at all.

Elizabeth couldn't help but smile.

"So Annalisa, I…"

"A.L." Annalisa interrupted.

"What?" Elizabeth asked, confused.

"Call me AL," she repeated. "It's what my friends call me."

And for the first time, Elizabeth saw Annalisa smile; a true, genuine smile. It seemed to brighten her face considerable, and Elizabeth realized that she had green eyes.

"Well, AL, I'm glad you consider me a friend. And I would like to thank you for what you did yesterday. I hate to consider what could, what would have happened if you hadn't."

"You're welcome," AL replied. "And don't dwell on it too much; it's best to forget."

"I guess you speak from experience?"

"Plenty."

At this last statement, Annalisa's tone dropped, the light from her face gone; her smiled vanished; Elizabeth could tell this wasn't a subject to be touched upon.

"Well, while I am grateful for you being there, I am curious as to why you were out so late at night?"

AL paused in the middle of peeling her banana.

"I was, uh, traveling," she said; the uncertainty in her voice not escaping Elizabeth's ears.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and AL continued to peel her banana.

"Did you come from the colonies?" Elizabeth asked.

"Um, yeah,"

"Oh,"

So that explained the strange customs and dress.

"Don't you think it was a bit dangerous to be out at such an hour? Alone?"

It was AL's turn to raise her eyebrow.

"Didn't you?"

So apparently this rock I'm stuck on is an island, located in some unknown region of the Caribbean, known as Port Royal. I'm staying in the house of Governor Weatherby Swann, the richest man on the island and one of the most influential people in London. Norrington is a commodore (I guess the equivalent to a general) and pretty much owns the Royal Navy, which just happens to be stationed here, of all places. He's known as "The Hunter" around the Caribbean, for his notorious persecution of pirates; black hearted scoundrels who raid, pillage, and plunder, blah, blah, blah…etc…etc…Oh and I'm supposed to come to some wedding dinner party thing tonight.

Great.

I wonder if I should put myself out of my misery with this fork. It would look very nice stuck through my eye…

But the opening door and entrance of the Governor interrupted my suicidal thoughts.

"Elizabeth, it is time to go, you wouldn't want to be late for your appoint with the Commodore, would you." he said, then, when noticing me he added, "Good morning Mrs. Vargas."

"Good morning Governor," I said in my most courteous voice, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Elizabeth grin.

"I trust your accommodations were sufficient," he said, sounding more like hotel clerk than a commanding governor.

"Wonderful," I said, thinking of the strewn mess upstairs that used to be a guest room. "And I'll be packed and out of here no later than noon,"

He raised his eyebrow and asked, "Are you heading somewhere?"

Now here I was faced with a dilemma. I could lie and say I did, but if I couldn't find a way off this rock, I would be stuck in less than ideal conditions. But if I said no, I'd be trapped here. But when I weighed sleeping in the street with sleeping in a mansion, the dilemma was quickly solved.

"No, I'll just find somewhere else to stay until I leave Port Royal. I don't want to be a burden,"

"Nonsense," he stated matter of factly, almost cutting me off. "You saved my daughter; letting you stay here is the least I can do,"

In reality, I really wanted to leave and find out how to get back to the normal world, but seeing how it would probably not be the best thing to turn down a governor, I simply nodded and said, "Thanks,"

And with that he left, with Elizabeth, leaving me alone to sit and eat. I groaned and put my head in my hands, feeling the dull throbbing of a coming headache. With my thumbs, I began to rub circles in my temples, hoping to diminish the impending pain. Slowly the ache began to recede and I sat up, thinking the battle was won.

And then my head dropped on the table, violently, uncontrollably; like a grenade went off inside my head. I felt myself scream, but heard no sound, as if the darkness that was clouding my vision swallowed the noise along with it. My heavy, sodden breathing was the only thing that told me that I was still conscious, for I was sure that my body could not take this.

And then it happened.

A rush of images and dialogues came back at me…and I…I remembered

Hands on a table

"Why isn't Ryan here?"

"He's, uh, at a Leon's,"

"Wasn't I supposed to be there?"

"Yes, you were,"

"Were?"

A black TV screen

"AL, you're gona love this flick,"

"Yes I'm sure, now can we go get Ryan,"

"Later, come an sit down,"

A concerned friend

"You've got to slow down,"

"You do it too Jon,"

"But not like you AL, not as much as you,"

The one I swore to never see again

"I broke the great Annalisa, you can't give me up,"

"I can and I did,"

"Then why do you still wear my ring around your neck?"

A gun; the sirens

"You were always too weak to do it; to forget, and that's why you won't do it,"

"Watch me,"

Feet; my feet carrying me far away

I slipped the gun into the black folds of the fabric; into an abyss

Moving as fast as I could

A face in the darkness

"I think ya need sum help,"

Dark hands poured me a drink

"A secon' chance ta live da life you never gota live,"

My head hit the ground

I entered the waiting darkness

As soon as it started, the pain stopped.

The memories stopped.

I opened my eyes and saw dark hair in front of my eyes. The room was silent except for my intense breathing and my pounding heart that I was sure would just explode out of my chest. Only my left hand was on top of my head, which was flat down on the wooden table. My right hand had a death grip on the edge of the table; the bandaged knuckles quaking from the force exerted from it. I finally forced hand to relax and raised it up; the sweat from my palms sticking to the surface of the wood and running down my arm.

I simply sat there, not really knowing what to do next. Would it happen again? Would it be worse? Why is this happening? So I just sat there and stared, waiting for the pain and the memories to visit me once again.

But they didn't.

Slowly, I got up out of the chair, keeping one hand on the table for support.

Nothing happened. I felt as fine as ever.

"Ok," I said slowly, taking a few steps forward. Deciding that I safe for the time being, I began making my way up the bedroom.

"This place is so fucked up, I don't even know what to do anymore," I muttered to myself as I ascended the stairs. I walked into my room and slammed the door behind me.

The cool Caribbean wind kissed sun drenched skin; wet with sweat and ocean mist. A strong, calloused hand gripped the wooden wheel, keeping it steady. Kohl rimmed eyes scanned the edge of the sea until settling on the peak of land off in the distance.

Reaching into a black pocket, another hand pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. Opening it up, the eyes read the message once more.

Come in one week. Everything has been arranged. We would love to see you.

W & E

Standing on the helm of the Black Pearl, Captain Jack Sparrow smiled.