A/N: I'm not sure if this is completely necessary, but I'm paranoid so I'm saying it just in case: this chapter may offend some practising Christians. It's not the desired effect and it wasn't written with that in mind, but if you don't like it don't read it. Also, I'm an atheist so any Biblical references could be completely wrong because I haven't exactly read the Bible from cover to cover and I can't find a copy to reference it with, so I'm sorry about any incorrect details. Just so we're all on the same page.
Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who lived in a horrible world. Her birth was a mistake and neither of her parents wanted her and every adult she ever knew used her for their own personal gain. She led a horrible life and no-one would ever save her from it. The end.
For God's sake, Evangeline. Pull yourself together. I haven't cried since… since I was six. I remember- I was crying because Jania had taken my apple. Sister Karina reminded me that Jesus never cried when he was being crucified and that we couldn't cry for our own petty human problems when Jesus hadn't shed a tear in the face of torture and death. As I grew older and I started losing faith in any God it became a question of pride. All of the other novices had been put in the convent by choice by their parents. They had always told me- reminded me, more like- that I was unwanted and crying had only ever made it worse.
Too late now, though. The tears are flowing, but it's just as well there's no-one around to see it. I'll go to the kitchen- Jack won't look for me there. The last thing I want to do is talk to that miserable little maggot.
Bang! I don't care if I wake someone up. That door is opening whether it wants to or not. Might as well close it aggressively while I'm here- make sure people get the message.
"'Vangeline? 'S tha' you?"
Oh hell. Rocky's still here? Awake? At this hour? The steam's particularly thick now: I can't see him so hopefully he can't see me. Can I just pretend I'm not here? Yeah, right. My nose is running and if I don't sob or break something soon I'll explode. Not to mention my tremendous entrance just now. No, I'll just have to talk to him.
Dammit.
"S- sorry, Rocky." Sniffing and wiping my face. Hold it in, Evangeline. We've got an audience. "Did I wake you up?"
"Naw. I was just star'in' on breakfast."
Silence for a beat. Chop-chop. Sniffle.
"You alrigh', 'Vangeline?"
Sniff. I can feel a sob building in my chest. God, I need to get out of here. "Yeah." Understatement of the century.
Silence. Chop-chop-chop. What's he up to over there? I hope it's Jack's fingers. I'd eat them any day, lightly grilled and stuffed with saffron and sprinkled with almonds.
Yum.
"Did you ever know your parents, Rocky?" The words are out before I can stop them. Terrific. Not only am I crying, I'm about to have a pity confessional with the guy who's practically my boss.
"Naw. Me mam died when I was born and me pa died in a carriage accident no' long after. I was raised by my uncle, bu' 'e was a sailor so mostly I fough' for meself in the ci'y."
Harsh life.
"I only just found mine." (Just in case you wanted to know.) "It's… It's weird, because even though I know they're both bastards who want to get rid of me as soon as possible- they're my parents, you know? They hate each other but they love each other in a weird way too but as far as they're aware I'm just part of the other and so they treat me the same way they treat each other- which is rotten, by the way- and I've spent my entire life alone, and now I've suddenly got this pair of- well, moderately impressive parents and all I want to do is make them proud because I just want to know what it's like to have someone care about me and-"
Stop Evangeline. Shut up now, before you make things worse.
But… You've got to admit, that was a pretty moving speech, in a way. I don't even know where half of that came from. I've always known that I'm just the drunken mistake of two strangers, ever since I was old enough to get a grasp on these things. I've always known that if I was wanted I would have a home by now and that there was no point staring out the window hoping for someone- anyone- to come waltzing down and claim me. I've always known that no-one wanted me. I've always known it, deep down, but I never admitted it- not even to myself. And then it just came out. The feelings of rejection and longing and frustration. And to Jack and Rocky. Fantastic. Of all people to cry in front of, it just had to be them. I spent half my life training myself to be stoic and emotionless, and now here I am crying. I shouldn't have said anything. I shouldn't have even gone out on deck to the helm. I should have just kept my head down and done what I was told… Yeah right. Since when have I ever been one for blind obedience? I should have known it would end in tears one day- quite literally, as it would seem. How very embarrassing.
Silence for a beat. Then:
"I see." Rocky, ever the sage. Then: "So, uh, why you tellin' me all this?"
Looking at him through bloodshot eyes. "Because as sad as it sounds, you're the closest thing I've ever had to a friend."
Silence. Rocky's cutting stops for a second, then picks up again with a startled jolt. Oh God, oh God. I need to get out of here because I say something really stupid.
"Do you, ah, need a hand with breakfast?" Trying to keep my voice steady. It's a real challenge.
"Oh- uh, no," is the jerky response. Probably hasn't heard anything so pathetically sentimental his entire life.
"I'll… I'll leave you to it then." Easing towards the door. Don't want to seem too eager…
"It don' sound comple'ely stupid," he says suddenly. I freeze, halfway through the door. One foot trembling in mid-air. "I en't never 'ad a friend before either."
What am I supposed to say? Nothing, that's what. My throat's too tight- because of my messed-up family, mind, not Rocky. If I close the door quickly enough he'll think I'll have left before he got to say anything.
God. I can't hold on any longer.
Throwing caution to the wind and sprinting up to the deck and into the cabin, tears streaming down as free as you please. Bang goes the door, thud go my knees on the floor.
I thought telling someone my problems was supposed to make everything better. Admitting them out loud just makes it all seem so real and it unleashes this whole new flood of sub-problems and mini-complications I hadn't thought of before. This is stupid, so stupid. I should have just accepted that I was going to cease to exist when I heard that foul man talking to Angelica. I always knew it would come to this, ever since the day I met Angelica. I'm just the reminder of what she and Jack could have been together- painful and reassuring. Not reassuring enough, and I knew that. But I just told myself that she was my mother and she would care for me like all mothers were supposed to. Mothers like that only exist in fairytales, and my life is no fairytale. My life is an accident. I'm a mistake. The girls back at the convent were right- no-on'e ever cared about me. Angelica only came back for me because she needed me as a tool to get what she wants- to erase the black marks in her history. After all, she can't regret it if it never happened.
Why is this even happening to me? The nuns always told us that God values all life, but what kind of value is being put on my life? That's why I stopped believing in the Big Man: I didn't believe any heavenly, almighty power would damn a poor girl to a loveless life of abandonment and carelessness and then claim that He valued it. It's just not fair.
Tearing the damn cross from my neck and flinging it across the room. Thanks for nothing, you stupid deity. Ten years of worship and what do I get? A mother who doesn't really want me and a father who is trying to convince himself I don't exist- and soon enough I won't. You have a mean sense of humour.
Beginning to have second thoughts about the Hourglass. Beginning to think I won't go at all and just wait for myself to disappear. Screw the plan- on the likely chance it doesn't work it won't matter anyway. Angelica gets what she wants, Jack saves himself some time and I get to ditch this rubbish life without having to take it myself.
Crawling into bed and squeezing my eyes shut; still the tears leak out. Going to sleep with shaking shoulders and a drenched pillow.
xXx
Knock-knock-knock.
Ah yes. Gibbs' warm-hearted wake-up call. We've really bonded, these past three days. We've gone from weary 'good mornings' to a loving knock on the door.
Not that I need it. My life is already so full of love and laughter. Plus, I've been awake for a few hours now. Not crying- that finished a long time ago, thank God. I've just been lying here on this uncomfortable excuse for a bed staring at the wall. Hot face, but that's about it. I can't feel anything. I've totally zoned out. A few swollen knuckles from where I've punched the walls and some puffy eyes and an essentially crushed state of mind, but no worse for wear. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready for another day of unrewarding work in the life of Evangeline Avi. Never mind that I feel like I've been dragged by the ankles across every single barnacle on this godforsaken rust bucket for twelve hours. There are dishes to be cleaned, meals to be prepared, food to be spat in.
Parents to be hated.
Dragging a few numb fingers through my hair and wiping my face with a sleeve before rolling it up again (which, admittedly, probably isn't such a swell idea, given that my face and arms are even browner than usual). Everyone else on this damn vessel is filthy anyway- they shouldn't spare me a second glance.
Time to get to work.
Funnily enough, the view hasn't changed at all. The mermaid bay place is supposed to be coming into view later this evening, and from there it's a matter of hours (or so I'm told).
Not that it'll matter in the end. If I can bring myself to even look at Jack without wanting to hit him I'm telling him it's off. He can go squander as many riches as he likes and then come back to his ship to discover an empty cabin and a clean past where two Spanish women would be. So sorry to waste your time, but I stand by my statement that every single thing that has happened in my life is your fault.
"Evangeline!"
You've got to be kidding. The nerve of him! How dare he even consider speaking to me! Pivoting on my toes to glare at him. At the helm once more, with Gibbs faithfully in tow. Nailing him with my all-powerful death glare- and faltering when he actually meets my eyes. He never looks at me.
"Roquefire can manage on his own," he calls down from the helm. "We'll need you on deck."
Holding the stare for a little longer… Is he joking? No. No, he's not. Slamming the hatch shut and storming off. I won't be wasting spit on you, Captain Sparrow. Besides, I already know this has to be another punishment in disguise. I know working on deck isn't all sunshine and daisies. But I also know that the kitchen will always be waiting. You can work me to the bone and I won't utter a single whimper. Sorry, but it'll take more than that to crack me, and it'll take plenty more to get into my good books. I'm not stupid, Jack.
"Oh, and Evangeline."
What do you want now, you rotten little maggot? "Yes, captain?" Squeezing the words out through gritted teeth.
"You'll be needing this."
And in a single deft movement he plucks his hat from his head and tosses it down to my hands.
xXx
So. This is lunch.
Jack wouldn't even let me eat with the crew, but now I suppose I'm part of it so here I am. Somehow all the pirates manage to cram themselves around the tiny table, and somehow all the plates and bowls manage to fit. I'm squashed between Pintel and Ragetti, and at the moment they seem to be having a competition to see who can choke down their meal the fastest. I'd say 'food', but if I'm honest it doesn't look remotely like anything edible. It's probably because I'm not the one preparing it anymore.
The morning on deck wasn't so bad, I suppose. I hate to admit it, but the hat went a long way. Kept my hair out of my face and the sun out of my eyes and the water out of my mouth. My hands are killing me and my muscles are throbbing, but it's satisfying work. Plus, I'll have a killer build once I'm done here, and no-one will dare to mess with me again. And, of course, not a single complaint uttered. I could tell Jack was watching me the entire time. Whenever I looked at him he was gazing heroically off at the horizon again or examining a compass, but I know he had only just looked away. Too bad, Sparrow! I'm tougher than you think.
He's watching me now, too. He doesn't usually eat with the crew (or ever, for that matter- I don't think I've ever seen him devour anything but rum) but here he is, sitting at the head of the table and watching me carefully over his fork. Please. I'm not scared of the big bad One-Eye and his fat buddy. If anything, their married couple style squabbles will be the thing that kills me, and at the moment their mouths are too full of food for much squabbling. Plus, I can mimic that death glare of yours to perfection. Just one look and they'll be fleeing for the hills with their tails between their hairy legs. If you're trying to scare me off, Sparrow, you'll have to try harder than that.
Having said that, though, it doesn't seem like he's being spiteful this time. I mean, it's obvious he's being cautious with me and he'll take me out the second he thinks I'm at the end of my tether, but he's mostly keeping his nose out of it. It's a strange concept, but I'm beginning to think he might actually be being genuine. Unless he's just trying to get into my good books. It's impossible to tell with him. I'll have to be careful.
"Oi, 'Vangeline."
What-? Who-? Oh. It's Rocky. How'd he creep up like that? I didn't hear a thing. Of course, with Pintel and Ragetti slobbering away on either side it's kind of hard to hear anything, but still.
The cook somehow manages to squish himself in between myself and Ragetti. Ragetti shoots him a death glare but Rocky doesn't see. It doesn't make much of a difference, if you ask me- his backside is so scrawny an ant could probably show him up.
"Wha' 'appened ta you?" he demands. "You didn' come ta work this mornin'. You alrigh'? I mean, you weren' exactly tops lastnight-"
"I'm fine, Rocky." Cautious glances around the table, but I don't think anyone heard. "Jack wants me working on deck now."
Rocky's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Really? But I though' you said-"
"I know what I said." Keep your bloody mouth shut, will you! "He's acting… funny."
Rocky extends his neck and stares at Jack, all the way down that end. It's at that point I realise that I'm staring at him too, and look away before he sees me.
"Wha' d'you reckon 'e's playin' a', then?" he asks.
Unwillingly, my eyes are dragged back to Jack's face. He's apparently preoccupied, but God only knows what's got his attention for the moment.
"I don't know."