Authors Note: Sorry this took so long! I had too many ideas for this chapter haha, plus I've been doing a lot of stuff this summer DX I love reading the reviews, btw, and I hope you all like this chapter! We learn somethings about Marie lol :P Well see you next chapter XD..Also, oddly enough, I like the cook.

Chapter 3 – A week later

"Captain…Are you…Uh…Listening?" Jack's nervous broke through Vane's thoughts. He glanced over at him, and just nodded at him to continue his talk. It didn't matter what the hell Jack said, he'd heard it all before. Just standard procedure when hunting.

He took a drag from his cigar, mind turning back to the idiot girl he had let on his ship. Vane hadn't actually expected to see Marie at dawn the week before, but there she was. If he had known how life on the ship would be with her…He would have gladly set sail the night before, instead of waiting till dawn.

I could throw her overboard… He smirked slightly at the thought. The crew wouldn't complain, that was for sure. Marie had been trouble since she stepped onboard his ship. Literally… The little bitch had promptly gotten in the way of his crew, tripped over some rope, and crashed into one of his men who was releasing the sails. Minus a few scrapes, delayed sailing, and the urge to strangle her then and there, everything had turned out fine in the end.

But the worst had just started…

Deciding she was dangerous on deck, Vane had her sent to the kitchens. Mistake number fucking two. Not only was she utterly useless when it came to cooking, her and the cook hadn't stopped fighting. For days. Barely a bloody fucking week into the trip, and the two were still trying to kill each other.

Maybe I should let him kill her, do us all a favor… Vane was mildly worried that the cook would follow through with his threat to turn her into stew, however. He wouldn't put it past him, honestly. Half of what they ate seemed to have mystery meat.

The fighting was bad enough, but the fact she tried to poison his crew…Well, she swears it was an accident. How was she to know that the meat she had used wasn't fully cooked? Or that apples weren't standard in any form of stew, especially if they were being left to ferment? Now…why they had fermenting apples on board was another matter entirely that she didn't seem to have anything to do with.

Vane groaned aloud, and Jack shut up, eyeing his captain. He had a feeling he knew what was on his mind, but at the same time…

Vane glared up at the ceiling, lips pursing into a fine line.

She delayed my sailing…Nearly poisoned my crew…Let's not forget that she and Anne almost fought yesterday. Damn women…Oh, and just three days ago she nearly sent three men overboard. Why? Because apparently "Stay down in the kitchens, in a corner, touching nothing" translates to "Hey! Run around on deck and try to climb the fucking riggings." Was there anything she could do right?

It was then Vane realized it was perfectly quiet. He cast a glance at Jack, and narrowed his eyes to slits.

"Jack, why the hell have you shut up?"

"You…appear to be thinking intently about something, Captain." Vane glanced at his quarter master, wondering, not for the first time, exactly why he kept him around. Well, he did seem to know what he was doing most of the time.

"Start talking." He snapped at him, putting out the remains of his cigar. Jack eyed him for a moment before continuing. Vane tilted his head to the side, trying to concentrate on what Jack was saying.

Marie stood in the kitchen, looking around, and her hands on her hips. It was disgustingly dirty, and all her attempts at cleaning have failed horribly. The cook wouldn't let her do any cleaning, and if she cooked anything, he took over.

"Granted…" She muttered aloud to herself. "Cooking isn't my specialty…But I clean!" Marie had learned to clean fairly well not long after starting out on her own. She had been trying to clean all week, but the cook seemed to live in the kitchen. Damn him.

He's not here at the moment though… She had gotten a bucket of water, from the wide expense of water around them of course, when she noticed he wasn't about. Now…Where did she start?

After a moment's debate, she decided the best place to start was the tables. The water wasn't as warm as she'd like, but she had no pot to heat it in, so it'd do. She also couldn't use fresh water because, well, they needed that to drink.

Marie dipped her rag in the water and began scrubbing at the nearest table. As she scrubbed, she thought about the last week, and felt her cheeks grow warm. She had made one blunder after another, and the more she fucked up, the madder Charles became.

I swear…he probably will hit me if I mess up again. At least she hadn't actually fought with him yet, so that was something. I need him to trust me, at least to some extent. At the least I need him to see I can be useful.

"I wish I had an eel." She grumbled, scrubbing at a stubborn spot of dried meat. Gross. The blood stains weren't coming out, but she could get the food out. As for the eel, it was the only thing she could cook even decently. Or so she told herself.

"What the blazing fucking hells do ye think you're doing?!" The cook's voice cut through her thoughts like a cleaver through a head. Marie froze, then cast a look at the bear-gut cook, and wrinkled her nose slightly.

"I'm cleaning. It's disgusting in here, and the old dried meat on this table was getting to me." The cook blinked, then lunged for her, and grabbed her roughly by the arm.

"Cleanin' are ye? If I wanted the place clean, I'd let ya know!" He yelled in her face, shaking her. She dropped her head, hair falling in her face successfully hiding her scowl. "I clean this place up just fine, ya little bitch. Ye ain't allowed to touch a thing, do ya hear me? I ain't got a use for ya, but I can think of one real fast if you're itching to do something."

Marie felt something snap as he shoved her against the table and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him. He leaned in closer, continuing on his little rant. Marie had a fairly good idea what he would come up with. She was fucking sick of this man.

"Let go of me." Her voice dropped to the same cold voice she had used on Charles at the beach, cutting the man mid-rant.

"'Cuse me, what did ye say?" He growled at her, tightening his grip on her arm. She glowered up at him, feeling her hatred grow.

"I said…Let go of me!" Marie slammed her palm into his chin, snapping his head back. She twisted her arm free and kicked him away from her. He fell against the other table with a crash, but managed to stay mostly on his feet. Marie leapt forward, and grabbed him by the hair, kicking him in the back of the knees. As he crumbled, she slammed his head into the table and held him there. He was too stunned at the turn of events to move just yet.

Marie pulled out one of her knifes and brought it close to his eyes. She watched as awareness filled his eyes again and they widened slightly.

"Now listen closely…You are going to allow me to do what I wish in this fucking kitchen, regardless of what it is, or I'll take one of your eyes out." The cook didn't respond right away so she pressed the tip into the skin below the eye, drawing a little blood. He gave a slight start, and tried not to tremble. "A simple nod will suffice." She growled at him.

"Actually…" Said an all too familiar voice came from the doorway. "I think you better let him go, Marie." She glanced over at Charles, who was standing in the doorway, a storm cloud brewing around him. Marie eyed him for a moment, then let go of the cook's hair and stepped back. The cook fell fully to his knees, shaking with relief. "Now, tell me what the fuck is going on in here."

"Ca…Captain! I was just cleaning" The cook said, motioning towards the bucket and rag, "When this little…whore came out of nowhere and attacked me!" Marie blinked, then let out her breath in a hiss, eyes blazing.

"Liiiies! I was the on-" The Captain silenced her off with a stone-hard glare, then looked at the cook. He strolled into the room, and dragged the cook to his feet.

"So that's why you were threatening her, am I fucking right?" The cook blinked, then paled slightly. Marie narrowed her eyes, opening her mouth but then thought better of it. She could fight her own battles, but somehow she knew that Charles wasn't doing this for her. She'd be in trouble with him shortly, she could sense it.

"Captain…"

"She is down here in the damn kitchens to be useful, not for your own amusement."

"I…but she…ye see…I told her not to do anything…And she…so I was just, ya know, scaring her a little…Giving her an idea if she diso-" Marie jumped as Charles floored the cook, not expecting that. She watched him drag the cook back up and onto the table, holding him there, fists balled up in his shirt.

"She isn't a fucking slave, she is a member of this damn crew, and if you don't like it, find yourself a new ship to cook for." He growled down at him, blue eyes as cold as ice. He shoved away from him, and turned, grabbing Marie by the arm. "You're coming with me." Charles hauled her from the kitchen, leaving the cook where he was.