A big thank you to all the lovely people who have decided to drop a comment, add my story to their favorites or put it on their alert list. It means the world to me!

We are back with Callie in this chapter, and until I finished writing it earlier this day, I had a clear idea of what would happen with her storyline for at least the next couple of chapters. But writing this sort of ruined that. That is one of the things I love most about writing my own stories: how I am able to adapt and flow with new ideas, and instead of trying to incorporate them into the already existing story as I once did, now I allow my storyline to change if I feel these new ideas contribute something better to the plot. It is very exciting.

There is a lot of talk in this chapter, and I feel I must warn you that writing a believable dialogue is not my speciality. In fact I feel I really am rather horrible at it. But I have written and rewritten it over and over and over so many times that I am sick and tired of it.

Also, since my definition of what is appropriate for teenage readers might differ from that of others, I will just mention that this chapter contains alcohol use/abuse, mentions of sex. The flashback in this chapter contains violence in relation to child abuse, and if you prefer not to read about those things, please skip that part. Is it skirting an M? Idk...

Otherwise I hope you enjoy this chapter ;)

I remember when you told me
I should live like I'm dying
And not to close my eyes
While everything burns.

- Now Or Never, Madina Lake

Onboard The Nocturne, open sea, The Grand Line
Jun. 14th 2407

There was a gentle knock on the door to the captain's cabin, so soft that for a moment the lone occupant within considered to pretend not to have heard it. Yet with the uncanny silence that was currently inhabiting The Nocturne, Calico knew she would not be fooling anybody; the knock had been soft, but in the void usually occupied by voices and the sounds of people training, cooking, cleaning or just going about daily life, it might as well have been a gunshot.

She had spent the past four days in her room, sealed away from everybody else onboard the ship, and caring little for the company of others. She could not bear the looks they sent her; the worried glances that lingered on her person from the moment she stepped into their field of vision. They sympathized with her, she knew, but she could not stand their pity, and she had no idea how to handle their concern.

When her crew had discovered that the extent of her self-imposed solitude included avoiding mealtime gatherings, they had taken it upon themselves to bring her food to her cabin. The dishes they served for her were nutritious and healthy, and though Barra was an exceptional chef on a daily basis, she could tell that he put in an extra effort to make them as delicious as possible. She had concluded that perhaps it was his way of trying to cheer her up, though it was kind of counterproductive and only added guilt to the emotions on the long list of her sentimental shortcomings, since she had not had much of an appetite since she slammed the door behind her four days prior.

Whoever was at the door now was not bringing her food however. Barely an hour had passed since the mid day meal, and no one aboard could suspect her of being hungry after such a short period of time. In fact, she had barely touched the ratatouille and had only nibbled at the nut pâté, which occupied the plate on her desk.

The knock came again, more insistent this time, and the redhead scowled at her hands. She was sitting on the side of her bed, half-dressed and with her hands folded in her lap. Her hair was in disarray and she looked anything but presentable. Not that it mattered. Not that she cared. There were no one on the ship whom she cared to make herself presentable for, and even if there had been, it would make no difference. Who would want a woman pregnant with another man's child anyway?

When the shock of her current predicament had passed, she had demanded that the Doc removed the foetus. When he had refused, she had argued her case, pointing out that her excessive consumption of alcohol during the first month of the pregnancy might have damaged the foetus, that a pirate ship was no place for a child and that not only did she not want the child but if she was forced to give birth, she would resent it because of the circumstances concerning its conception. He had remained resolute though, and so she had resorted to begging, which progressed to anger, which evolved into the greatest argument that had ever taken place onboard the ship. In the end she had snarled that she would find a doctor to do the procedure on the next island and had proceeded to barricade herself in her cabin to brood on her misfortune.

The fist connected with the sturdy wood of her door a third time and the young pirate resigned herself to the cruel whims of fate. It was probably Hawken who had come to tell her that she was behaving like a spoiled brat and that she had to suck it up because he had had enough of her moping. If she continued to ignore him, she knew he would barge in despite the very obvious hints that she did not want company. So Calico gathered the covers around her naked torso and mentally prepared herself to face whoever was intending to intrude on her privacy. "Enter," she called though in truth all she wanted was to shout at Hawken, if it really was Hawken, to go away.

As the door swung inwards however, it was not Hawken who stepped through. It was Denn.

Denn was the embodiment of everything a man could want in a woman. She was full breasted, with wide hips and a narrow waist, which gave her an incredibly enticing figure. Her hands and feet were petite and made her look delicate, while her honey brown bedroom eyes, long mahogany hair, and sensual lips combined to create the perfect mixture of beauty and sex.

"Captain," she greeted the redhead while she pushed the door closed with her hip. She was carrying a rather large, steel grey tomcat, which leapt from her arms the moment his yellow-green eyes fixed on his owner and stalked towards her on silent paws, tail held high.

"Denn," the skipper in question responded flatly, not bothering to rise from the bed. She stroked the cat between the ears and down his back as he rubbed against her leg. He mewed insistently and she would have sworn there was quite a bit of annoyance in that sound, as if the great grey cat was telling her just how much he resented not being able to cross the threshold.

"He was sitting outside," said the striking brunette, and motioned toward the cat with her head as she took a seat on the bed. "He was not very pleased to be shut out."

"I can tell." Calico smiled a wry smile and picked the creature up from the floor to rest in her lap. The cat, which she had initially named Fat Ass, but now just went by The Fat or Fatty, had taken an imediate liking to the young captain, but absolutely despised most every other person in the world. Except for Barra, but Calico suspected it was because the cook "dropped" bits and pieced when he chopped the meat for dinner.

They sat in silence for a while, Denn looking at Calico, Calico looking at The Fat. The Fat was not looking at anything; he had his eyes closed and was purring loudly while his mistress gently stroked his fur.

"Did you know that Hawken gave him to me not long after we became pirates?" the redhead asked after a time. She did not know where the sudden urge to share the story came from, did not even know why that memory was the one, which had taken root in her thoughts and refused to let go. The brunette shook her head no. "You know what we did. What I did," Calico stated matter-of-factly and paused there, recalling the image that had forever burned itself to the inside of her eyelids.

"Callie," the other woman half-whispered as if she was about to try and convince her that it had not been her fault.

The redhead shook herself out of her reverie and did not give the brunette the opportunity to say more. "Neither of us handled it very well initially, how could we possibly when our crime was that horrendous. Hawken was grieving, he repented of what we had done, but I, well, I was spiralling out of control." Her lips twisted to form that wry, bitter smile from before, a smile that held no humour or happiness. "I was fifteen you know, fifteen and I drank like a man who had been on the bottle most of his life, drank until I threw up everything but my memories and continued to drink until I blacked out. Then I drank some more until eventually I passed out somewhere, too intoxicated to know up from down, man from woman, bed from gutter. I let men touch me, kiss me, fuck me. I was too drunk to tell them no, and it didn't matter anyway. I left it to Hawken to pick up the pieces of me, to scrape me up from the gutter or roam the cities in search of me, because I had stumbled off with some guy during the night. He was suffering too, but I didn't care, all I saw was me, me, me and my own pain.

"He always sat by my bed when I woke - watching over me while I slept, I suppose. That faithful morning when The Fat came into my life, I woke with the greatest of headaches and before he even had the chance to speak, I was out of my bed and en route to the bathroom to vomit my dignity into the toilet. He stood in the doorway and watched me, oozing disappointment and I pretended not to notice as I had done every day for weeks. When I had cleaned up, I went back to the bed and it was only when he sat down beside me that I noticed the tiny ball of grey fur he held in his hands. When he handed him to me, I was all rejection and dismissal. What was I to do with a kitten? But he did not relent and as the day wore on this small creature, with his hunger for warmth and comfort, his curious nature and his soft purr before he fell asleep on my stomach, grew on me. His helplessness became my rescue, and in him I found a way, even if it was only in a small measure, to atone for the lives that had been lost because of me."

Calico rubbed the cat between the ears and his purring intensified. It was not everybody onboard who knew why Hawken and she had chosen to live a life on the lam, but with the exception of Val, who was new and not truly a crewmember yet, everybody knew of the events, which prevented either of them from ever going back. But the young captain had never told anybody of the things which took place immediately after, and she did not know why she was suddenly telling the other woman of the only other time in her life when she had truly hit rock bottom. Normally she only discussed the painful memories and her innermost fears with Hawken, because despite the recent hitches in their relationship, he was undeniably and irrevocably her best friend. Still, Denn was a good listener, and Calico trusted her with her life and the lives of everyone she loved. But, most importantly perhaps, the redhead and the brunette shared something Hawken could never have part in; an understanding born from the fact that they were both women and thus knew the inner workings of a woman's mind.

"These recent… events…," she continued," have taught me something I did not know before; that whenever there is something I cannot handle emotionally, some sort of painful affliction upon my sentiments, I become self-destructive, and now, like then, I just dump my burdens on everyone close to me and give a shit about the consequences. The Doc is right, you know, I am an irresponsible, spoiled brat who acts like a grown woman. But I've never grown up. I've never stood up and accepted the responsibilities of adulthood. I haven't learnt from my mistakes. It was not fair what I did to Hawken back then and it is not fair what I am doing to all of you now. And I see it now, Denn, I see it, but I do not know how to change it."

The tears burst forth then, unbidden and unexpected, and Calico brushed them away with the back of her hand as she finally looked at her companion. "I don't know what to do."

Denn placed her hand on her friend's in a reassuring manner as if to remind her of the bond that bound them. "Perhaps," she said, brown eyes gazing into golden, "this child you are carrying is your new Fatty."

The redhead snatched her hand away as if she had been burned, and stood up so abruptly that The Fat fell off her lap with an indignant yowl. He landed on all fours on the soft carpet, his tail twice as thick as usual, and raced off to hide under her closet.

Calico stalked over to stand in front of the great panorama window, which made up most of one wall of the captain's cabin. "I could never love this child," she declared, though less forcefully that she had four days earlier. All the time she had spent alone had left her with barely anything other to do that to think and so she had done just that. In the beginning, she had sought to reign in her thoughts, to restrain them and keep them from returning to anything that had anything to do with her current situation. But as time passed, she had realized that it was impossibility and thus she had set her thoughts free. They had taken her on a long and roundabout route, but in the end they always kept returning to her pregnancy and the future. They had turned to Ace too, but that was a subject she was not yet ready to consider, and she had twisted them away. She had realised, however, that though it still appeared inconceivable, loving her baby was not as improbable as it had initially seemed. Already, she was beginning to accept the thought of another being living and growing inside of her, and even in spite of the mess with the father and her own lack of motherly qualities, she marvelled at it all.

"Calico!" Denn's voice was sharp with sudden anger, and the young captain knew she had overstepped her boundaries. There were not many things you could not say to the brunette, but children were a sensitive subject and thus seldom broached. "Do you know what I would give to have the opportunity to be able to go through what you are experiencing right now? Do you know what I would do to be able to conceive a child, to become pregnant, to give birth and become a mother? Do you?"

The redhead knew. Denn had been running from the brothels of Thasef when she joined the crew four years ago. She had attempted to stow away onboard The Nocturne when they left Thasef Major and had been successful only so far as when she had been discovered, the island had all but disappeared behind the horizon, and there had been no way of going back. Calico had taken it all with a smile and a laugh. They had just stocked up on food and water, and, as far as the captain could judge, the slightly older woman seemed amiable. There had been an unspoken agreement that their ways would part on the next island, but on the way there, Denn had revealed herself to be witty and smart, and in the end Calico had asked her to join the crew. It had been months later and under the influence of quite a bit of alcohol, when the brunette finally revealed why she had been running.

Everyone onboard had assumed that Denn had been tired of selling her body for money, though paradoxically she did not seem averse to sleep with random men without charge. Calico had assumed it had something to do with free will and not feeling like a commodity, but what the other woman revealed had not been what she had expected.

Denn had never been loath of working in a pleasure house, she had said, she liked sex and she liked lots of it, and getting paid for her pleasure was even better. But just before she came aboard The Nocturne, she had become pregnant, and the proprietor of the establishment had demanded that she had an abortion. In the end Denn had relented because she had no other way to pay him back the debt her late father owed him, and, she had said to herself, she did not want her child to grow up anywhere near the brothel. Something went terribly wrong during the procedure, however, and the young woman had ended up sterile. It was one of the greatest injustices in the world, Calico had decided, because Denn loved children and considered it the highest privilege to become a mother.

"I know."

"Then how can you say something like that?" Denn asked incredulously, the notes of disbelief and outrage clear in her voice, "This child is your own flesh and blood, Callie, and you have given it life. You have created a miracle. How can you not love him?" There was something incredibly vulnerable about her in that moment, as if the belief system upon which she had built her entire existence had been contained within a porcelain cup that Calico had smashed into a brick wall with intentional force. Her brown eyes were wide with hurt, and the redheaded captain recognized within them a sense of betrayal, which tore at her heart in a way she would never verbally admit to.

Calico turned away, unable to look at her friend any longer and unwilling to let the other woman see how she, herself, was affected. "I should not have said that, and I'm sorry. Maybe I can love this baby," she said, not quite able to keep the bitterness out of her voice, "But even then, what could I possibly offer a child?"

The brunette had an answer ready faster than her skipper expected, and Calico had a feeling that this part was what she had come to say all along. Moreover, judging by the way her voice had softened, she had picked up on Calico's own insecurity. "You can offer love and affection," she said softly and with a certainty Calico did not feel, "you might not believe it yourself, but you are capable of loving others, Callie, as is evident by your interaction with the rest of us - and you clearly love The Fat. Things might not have ended well with Ace, but that does not make you incapable of loving others, and it does not mean you cannot love your baby. Children are precious things, and when the loss of him fades, you will realize that getting an abortion is a mistake."

The distraught redhead could not quite ignore the way her chest tightened around her lungs and for a moment denied them to expand at the sound of his name, but Denn, oblivious, continued undeterred.

"You can offer safety as well, and protection in a world that is uncertain at best. No child could have a better guardian than you and when he grows old enough, you can teach him how to defend himself with a blade and to be smart about how he goes about avoiding trouble. You can offer education and intellectual stimulation and thereby possibilities that are not open to everyone in this world. You can offer freedom, adventure, a chance to see the world." Very quietly she added, "You can offer life, Callie."

Calico knew that Denn regarded the ability to create life as the most sacred gift of all and though she had never thought of motherhood as anything but a burden, she had to admit that it was an astonishing thought that she had created another being and was carrying it around inside of her. But with such a gift came tremendous responsibilities, and she was not sure she could shoulder those.

"I have already conceded that I might learn to love this… this child, and sure, in time that love might come to overshadow the pain its father left me with. That is all good and dandy, but with me for a mother, what kind of life would I be forcing on it? I am a pirate, Denn, I am an outlaw and a murderer and a monster, and I have chosen a life on the run, a life where I discard all laws and rules but those I make myself. And while you may call that freedom, in reality it is just another kind of trap from which I can never escape. Sure, I could settle down somewhere, but with looks like mine, it would only be a matter of time before someone found out who I am or made the connection to my uncle. I have many enemies, and I dare say he has even more. And just as some might strive to use me against him, someone may attempt to use this child against me. They may attempt to punish it for my crimes or harm it in a way as to show me what I have taken from them. You say I can offer freedom, but in reality any child of mine will have a limited amount of options for a future, options that are all dictated by the choices I have made."

"You might have decided to be a pirate," Denn said, not unkindly, "but that does not mean your child will have to be one as well. My father was a drunk with a gambling addiction, but I am a free woman with none of those burdens. And just as we are not our parents, your child will not be you either."

"We are pirates," Callie retorted, "and this child would grow up onboard a pirate ship, its life would be shaped by piracy. We sail in the most dangerous waters in the world, and I cannot in good conscience expose my son or daughter to that."

"I don't understand Callie," the other woman said, her eyes almost begging for answers, "You treat this life as if it is some great misfortune, as if we are all sorry sods with nowhere else to go, but you know that you can ask anyone onboard if there is somewhere they would rather be and every one of us would tell you 'no'. It's true that this is a more dangerous line of work than most others, but it offers rewards that you do not find anywhere else. You know this."

"I know," Calico said again and a strain had crept into her voice. She felt like she was unravelling, desperately clutching at the pieces of herself and trying to hold them together. "And I know it is not impossible to leave this behind either. As long as my uncle retains his alliance with the World Government, they will pose no threat to my child. But to plan on that treaty to be everlasting is precarious at best, and I cannot stake the wellbeing of my child on such unfavourable odds. Besides, I have enemies aplenty who would stop at nothing to strike against me, and only refrain because it would mean their lives if they did. Any child of mine would be doomed to a life of being hunted for something it did not do, a life of pain and fear and paranoia, of never feeling safe on its own. And that is in a best case scenario, mind you, for if this child should inherit my curse, there will be no hiding what it is and who it is related to."

The young captain stared hard and unseeing at the rolling waves outside her window, refusing to look at the brunette who was oozing concern behind her. Threatening grey clouds blotted out the sky, and in the distance she could see the curtain of rain blurring out the border between heaven and earth, whisking away the horizon. Her fingers clenched on the windowsill, nails digging into the wood. "You say I offer life, but I offer suffering and chaos and peril as well. What I really offer is death."

"You cannot mean that, Callie," Denn said, but her captain barely heard as the memories claimed her. Denn would never understand.

Mihawk residence, Elodea, The Grand Line
Aug. 23rd 2396

The polished marble floor shone in the afternoon sun, casting a pale reflection of everything back at the world, as if there was another, colourless reality beneath the cold stone. Despite the warmth of the summer day outside, there was a lingering chill to the halls of the manor and despite the vibrant colours of the bouquets, which adorned the expensive furniture, and the warm light spilling through the tall windows, the unwelcoming atmosphere was felt even here.

A young girl stood by the double doors that had recently closed on her respite from torment. She was soaking wet and dripping mud on the otherwise spotless floor. The murky water pooled by her feet, seeping out of her clothes in a way similar to how the joy of the previous hours was deserting her limbs. Her bare arms and legs were sporting a new collection of scabs and bruises, and her hair was a tangled mess in which twigs and leaves had made a home. She stood with her head bowed as if ashamed, her golden eyes cast in shadow by the bright red bangs, which fell in front of her face. In truth, however, she was attempting to conceal the defiance, which had transformed her features into a mask of obstinate rebelliousness. An expression she knew her mother would not appreciate.

The woman in question was standing on the lowest step of the broad staircase, which ascended to the upper story of the manor, almost as far away from her daughter as the width of the room allowed. Her hair was done up in elegant curls at the back of her head and the widows veil obscured her forehead and eyes. She was wearing the purple dress her brother had brought home last year, and it was beautiful. It fell perfectly around the matching jewelled slippers and was lined with lovely, hand-woven lace at the bottom of the skirt and at the ends of the wide sleeves. She too would have been beautiful if not for the look on her face. Her countenance was distorted in a very unladylike expression, disgust and hatred warring on her features as she beheld her only child.

"Where have you been?" The words were sharp, like a knife that had just had its edges honed and were forced across drawn lips. They echoed in the entrance hall like a whip crack, outlining the inhospitable emptiness, which was mistress of this house.

The girl flinched, not at the suddenness of sound after minutes spent in silence, not at the acidity and hatred carried within those words. No, she cringed at the promise they held. "I have been out," she answered with a dethatched, emotionless voice she had picked up from her uncle. She knew the way she spoke would only infuriate her mother further, but the devil in her had taken control of her vocal chord, and she could not stop herself.

The pale hand not currently resting on the banister curled into a tight fist by her mother's side and if possible became even whiter. The child thought she detected a flash of sharp green eyes from behind the veil. As expected her mother's response was even more biting than before and her voice shook when she said, "Out where?"

"All over," the child began, all insolence and audacity, before she was interrupted by a freezing reproach from the woman who had given birth to her.

"You will speak like a proper young lady, missy, or so help me God I will make you."

There was nothing in those words, which could be interpreted as a request, and at age eleven, Mihawk Calico knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what would happen if she disobeyed. She paused for a moment as if contemplating whether she should comply with the demand or not, whether she was willing to endure further punishment than what she was already in for just to infuriate her mother further. "I am sorry mother," she said then, adopting the mannerism of someone who had been instructed to correct every little thing she did wrong for years and years on end. "I have been playing with Hawken, we were by the lake –"

But the sugar coating she had laced her words with was too sweet a taste for the woman across the room, and with long strides she traversed the marble floor to grab her daughter by the arm. She progressed to tear at the wet, dirty clothes until her dress was splattered with mud, and her daughter was standing in only her underwear. Then she hauled the struggling child from the entrance hall and up the stairs to her bedroom, where she threw her down on her bed.

Calico, cat quick, attempted to escape the inevitable, but her mother had expected the manoeuvre and pinned her down on the bed while she tied her hands and feet to the bedposts. The girl screamed then, a shrill, furious sound as she tore at the straps, which bound her, but just as they had never given way before, so too they held today.

She bit into her pillow, expecting the sharp pain of the leather strap as her mother laid it across her back, but when it came her entire body still recoiled from the impact. She uttered a strangled sound, muffled by the pillow and her attempt to keep from crying out, and the place where hard leather met soft skin burned like fire.

"I will not have you associated with such vermin!" her mother snarled above her. The young girl could not help but wonder if she meant Hawken in particular or if she was simply referring to anyone below her station. She did not have long to ponder the matter though, because again the strap cracked against her back with all the fury she had provoked in the older woman, and again and again and again. Calico could no longer keep her voice under control and she screamed, loud and agonizing into her pillow, and tears spilled forth like a river.

"You are a Demon-child!" her mother spat with hatred, lifting her arm over and over again to spank her misbehaving offspring. "But I will not have you shame our family! I will not have you acting like some pig-girl! I will get the Devil out of you!"

"Monster!"

When the green-eyed woman had vented her anger she left the room and spared only a cursory glance for her daughter, a glance which held such revulsion that had she had the power, the child would have withered and died like a flower in frost.

Onboard The Nocturne, open sea, The Grand Line
Jun. 14th 2407

Calico rubbed her wrists absentmindedly. She still had the scars from all the times she had torn the skin there when she had struggled against her bonds. Once, when they had explored each other's bodies and told the stories of their scars, Ace had asked where she got them, but she had refused to answer. He had not pestered her, which was one of the things she had loved about him, and had moved on to enquire about a different leftover from another hurt. She had so very many scars.

"Monster," she whispered and stared into her own golden eyes as they were reflected in the glass panes of the window. She turned her head away, ashamed.

"Callie?" Denn questioned and put a hand on her captain's shoulder.

The redhead almost jumped out of her skin. She had completely forgotten about the other woman and could barely remember what they had talked about, only vaguely recalling it had been something about the baby. "It doesn't matter," she said, "I can't do this."

"Callie?" The brunette asked again, and Calico could tell she was thoroughly puzzled by her behavior.

"Please leave Denn," she said softly.

"Callie." There was a mild exasperation in her voice, but at the moment the redhead could not bear another argument.

"Please just go."

There was an instant of hesitation, but then the pressure where Denn's hand rested disappeared and she retreated from the room, though not without watching her captain with worry as she did.

Callie's mother was a disasterous parent!

And, introducing The Fat :D I love cats, and especially moody, anti-social ones - I think they are funny. I picture Fatty lounging somewhere and sending death glares at everyone but his very beloved owner.

I have attempted to illustrate that Callie cannot exactly relate to her child as a person by having her calling it 'it' when she talks about it. Also, Denn, who loves children, has already given it a gender and a personality and therefore she refers to the foetus as 'he'. (Also it is easier than writing 'he or she', 'him or her' etc. all the time. It became pretty annoying after a while...)

Feel free to leave a comment, I am always happy to hear what you think about my story. Also, if you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask. I promise I don't bite ;)