Maccus.

That name stirred her, too much. She remembered everything. Every shivering breath. The blood. The smell. The echoing thud of a corpse.

But now, that corpse stared down at her. It stood there like a ghost, holding her with fear alone, as if he were really there. But her eyes were fools. She was dead. She was completely dust. These were the shadows of hell, the ones she had willingly accepted for eternity. And Maccus…

Maccus was there, too. All the same. His grip harsh, digging into her like iron. Grimace lines around his mouth, imprints left from his scowl. His brow weighted with displeasure. She didn't know what to think, what to say, if she could speak at all. Filled with confusion and terror, she pushed away, falling backward into darkness, where he could not follow.

She collapsed. He panicked.

He caught her, awkwardly, and pulled her up from the floor. He was still shaking.

At first, he hadn't even recognized her. He saw a shadow in the darkness. He didn't know why he grabbed it, but it was like an instinct to him now. He didn't know who he was holding. And then, when her face came into the light, he froze, and she dropped. He almost didn't catch her.

He never caught her right. He pulled her up and slung her over his shoulder, her head and arms hanging lifelessly. How? How else did one handle this? How did one ever handle this properly? How could anyone pick up a human, a woman, like a sack of flour, like a sandbag? Like a warm, heavy, doll of a bag—of something. He didn't even know. He couldn't carry her any other way, it seemed. It confused him. She wasn't flour or sand. She was something he couldn't put his finger on too well. She was warm and alive, filled with such a voice. Warm like he remembered, against his chest, one of the few times she was ever right up next to him like that. He would have ventured to say it was his fault, but it was also hers. How she snarled at him like an animal when he did that. She would thrash and shout at him, awful things, and he'd only clamp down harder on her. But when she finally gave up and just sat there, his arms locked around her—that was something else. Everything was different, just for a second. Like it should have lasted forever, but didn't. Like he wasn't even angry at her. Like he wanted so much to stop, to turn her around and embrace her. To hold her right.

He returned to his cabin with her, and put her on his bed, as gently as he could. And then, all at once, he panicked. He turned, stumbling out into the hall, feeling sick, clenching the wall. There were firesnakes in his belly. But he wouldn't let himself vomit. Gasping, he collapsed to the ground in tears.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

She wasn't even supposed to be here. Neither was he. And yet, somehow, in all the chaos, in the midst of what was supposed to happen, there he was, alive and weeping, and there she was, enslaved to this ship once more.

No matter what he did, it seemed everything went wrong for them. Even in selflessness, they were still back where they started, as if nothing had ever changed. She had seen him. He wasn't so lucky to just be another shadow in the darkness, soon to be forgotten once again. No, that was just it. She couldn't forget. No one could. The world remembered, God remembered, and he remembered. Her eyes stung him with weakness. He would have fallen to his knees, weighed down by guilt, if she hadn't fallen first. She remembered him. She remembered everything he did. And she was afraid.

He roared, tears streaming down his face. He slammed a fist into the wall. The wood trembled in shock. His hand throbbed, and he collapsed into sobs.

"I do love her!"

How could a beast ever begin to love?

How could a wretched man love someone he destroyed?

He couldn't possibly!

"I do."

A hopeless dream. He was lowly dirt, begging to be a man again. It was too late.

"But I do…"

It was too late.

"No…"

Decades too late.

"No."

She was terrified of him. Why shouldn't she hate him?

"No—!"

Footfalls drummed on the stairs. Maccus bolted up from the floor.

"What?" Palifico spoke down at him from the railing, confused. Maccus looked away. His brow furrowed. His heart was swarming now.

His only reply came out in a painful breath. It was all he could manage.

"Why is she here?"

The rigger's shoulders lowered. His gaze fell. Maccus turned away. Tears stung his eyes. He couldn't speak. It hurt too badly.

By the time she opened her eyes, she knew she was not alone. Palifico was above her. She forced herself up. It was difficult. The air felt heavy. She couldn't remember why. But Palifico would know, would he not? And, as her mouth opened in question, her eyes fell on the man in the doorway.

Her whole body froze up in strange contortion. She pushed stiffly backward, away from the door and into the farthest corner of the bed, nearly sinking into the wall, but nothing seemed far enough. Across her eyes, all at once, everything ran in crazed circles, endless fiery loops, blackened smaug from the searing flesh of her arms, shrieking, crying, screaming souls, and she was halfway through the wall. Palifico tried to calm her. It was like she didn't even hear him. Terror was flashed across her eyes, and the whole world seemed wrong, flipped upside-down, and Maccus grabbed the rigger by the arm and yanked him out of the room.

Palifico struggled. "We can't leave her like that!"

"Well, she ain't even supposed to be here!"

"What the hell?!" Palifico turned, disgusted and simmering. "She is here, and she's gotta—!"

"She's gotta get out," Maccus hissed through his teeth, tense and low. "Do you realize how many eyes are on us? Right now?" Palifico's face slowly softened. The coral retracted, until he was hard as stone once again.

His voice whispered. "Then what?" he asked. "How are we going to do that now?"

"Do what?" She stood in the doorway, staring at both of them. "Throw me overboard?"

They both hesitated. She had heard everything. And she was giving them no slack.

"What is this?" she demanded. Her voice was different. Like it was difficult for her to talk, like her accent was so thick at times that she couldn't speak through it. And yet, it came out so naturally, the Irish bite that he remembered. But that was when she was angry.

Maccus said the only thing on his tongue. "You're not supposed to be here." That earned him a glare.

"You're one to talk."

Good God.

"I'm trying to do what's best for you here."

She was appalled. "Like you would know what's best for me!"

"I would!" he snapped. "An' you don't belong here!"

"I can't leave, Maccus!" she shrieked. "Nobody can make me! I can't make me, as much as I'd love to!"

He wasn't listening. "Yes, we can. We have to."

"I don't want to!"

Maccus stopped.

"What?" he said. He didn't understand. Her expression didn't change. She only seemed more upset, more adamant.

"Why are you doing this?" Her eyes were filled with a caged anger. He couldn't even answer. "I can't leave, and you know it! I'm not leaving this ship ever again, and even if I could, there'd be nothing left for me anyway.

"But what ticks me off," she continued, her voice rising. "Is you. You think it's somehow your duty to save me. You actually have the audacity to believe you know what's best for me! You're the one who abandoned me at every turn! Every chance you had, you ran off with your tail between your legs, and you left me there to fend for myself. I had to figure out what was best for me because nobody else had the balls to stand up for me!"

Her voice went soft, just for a moment. "And I really thought you cared." Like she was hurt. "I honestly believed that if anybody cared, if anybody heard me, it would be you."

He wanted so desperately to speak. To tell her. "I do!" he wanted to say. But nothing came out, and her rage only heightened.

"But you decided it was best to give yourself up to that abomination you call captain! You died, and I was forced into Company hands!"

"You wanted that, did you not?!" Maccus snapped suddenly. She was appalled.

"You know very well I couldn't stay there forever!" she shrieked. "I incurred a debt, remember?! Eternity! Eternity before the mast in this Godforsaken Hell-hole!

"Do you know what I had left on that boat?" she growled. "Do you know what I had left on that Company ship, waiting to be hanged?! Nothing! I had no hope! I had no dreams! I had nothing left to keep me afloat! I drowned myself, and I ended up here: without power, without hope, without immortality, and a big bump on my head, and you expect me to be happy with you making my decisions?!"

Maccus couldn't breathe. He couldn't feel anything but cold, nothing but a sudden, tearing void in his chest cracking open farther and farther. The more he looked at her, the more it shattered and frayed, until he felt the whole ocean tumbling down on him, stinging him all over, crushing him into dust. And she watched it happen. She wanted it to happen.

"Get out of my way." She shoved past him and out of his sight. He couldn't even turn.

"Where are you going?" Palifico stammered after her. She didn't wait on him.

"Well, I only have a few years left to live most likely," she snarled as she started up the stairs. "I might as well waste it."