A Love That Waits

Chapter 7 – Seven Years Later

I roughly raked my hand through the wild untamed curls of my hair. I had given up trying to tame it years ago, letting it grow long and curly. There didn't seem to be a single strand of my hair that didn't loop and curl around another, creating thick bundles. I blame the sea water and the whipping wind, but if I was honest I would say that I loved the bouncy curls.

The sun was high in the sky but it did nothing to brighten the day, did nothing to warm the ship. I was lost in perpetual cold. My boots made soft thumping sounds as I half walked – half jogged up the stairs to the quarter deck. It was long past the days when I scuttled about quietly and hid.

It had been seven years since Will promised he'd find me. I wish he hadn't; I wish he made a different promise to one he couldn't keep. The promise was empty and unfulfilled. I'd given up hoping that anyone would rescue me. With a quiet wince, I remembered when I tried to escape. Seven years since Madeline died. In all that time, I had never forgiven myself. How could I? I get to grow up, live my life. She never would.

I don't know how, but I built a wall around myself. I didn't let anything get through. Death. Pain. Cruelty. It was all a part of life on the Flying Dutchman. It made me hate my father even more, for subjecting me to this life. It was his fault that I had to build a wall in the first place. I hate him with a passion. I kept my humanity; it's the reason I didn't become like the rest of the crew. It's why this was so hard; because with humanity comes human feelings. It makes me human. The pain and sickness I experience when I witness death. When I witness malice and menace. It was why I wasn't bound to the ship in the way the other crew members were, and yet I was like them. I could do what they could. When the ship had sunk under the sea; I hadn't drowned. Hadn't suffocated. I could breathe, like them. I was a part of the sea, like them.

In seven years I had grown up. I was no longer the little girl from Port Royale. I was a woman, and a pirate. I embraced life as a pirate. After all, that is what I'd always wanted.

In seven years, I wondered how Lissy and father and Will were.

WILL P.O.V.

The town buzzed with news that a pirate was loose and that he had threatened Miss Swan. What was with the women in that family? First Clara, now Elizabeth. A pang went through my chest, as it always did when I thought of Clara. I had failed her, so spectacularly. Seven years since she was taken from me, and I had long since grown up. Learned my place. I couldn't help but wonder how Clara would have changed in that time. Her sister had grown into a beautiful woman; had she? Of course she had. There was no doubt in my mind. I missed her.

Without her, Elizabeth and I hadn't maintained our friendship very well, separated by class. Clara was the glue that held us all together. She had kept us friends and kept her father happy at the same time. Now a polite civility existed between myself and Elizabeth and not for the first time, I wished Clara was still here.

I pushed open the door to my smithy – it wasn't really mine, but I did the work while the owner got drunk and passed out. I didn't mind, though it would be nice if the customers were aware that I was the one who made their orders. It was dark, as it often was in a blacksmith, fire constantly going. It made it stiflingly warm in here, and if you weren't used to it, you would try to escape.

When I turned around, I realised the donkey was pushing the wheel. I ran over to him and calmer him, making him stop. I looked around the room, trying to find what had spooked him. Nothing made itself known. I pulled off my overcoat as I walked back to where Mr Brown undoubtedly would be. A bottle of rum lay at his feet and his head was tilted back as he snored. Typical.

"Right where I left you," I said, more to myself than to him. I turned back around dropped my overcoat on a chair. In front of me stood an anvil with a pointed hammer. Nothing unordinary. Except for the fact that I hadn't left that pointed hammer there in the first place. I frowned, "Not where I left you."

There was a table situated just beside, and on top of all the equipment was a hat I had never seen before. I reached forward to grab it but a sword suddenly slapped the top of my hand. I jumped and retracted my hand. The sword was in the hand of a pirate, for that is all he could be. His hair was matted in dreadlocks with beads woven in and there was kohl outlining his eyes. I watched the pirate walk around the table, his sword pointed at my chest and he stalked towards me.

"You're the one they're looking for," I said as I backed away. Surprisingly, I was not scared to have this pirate threaten me. I was angry. "The pirate," I spat.

The said pirate squinted his eyes at me, "You seem somewhat familiar. Have I threatened you before?" he asked.

"I make a point of avoiding familiarity with pirates," I said harshly.

"Ah, so it would be a shame to put a black mark on your record, so if you'll excuse me," he turned to leave. He was not like other pirate; not like the ones who took Clara. But he was a pirate nevertheless. I grabbed a sword off a hook on the wheel behind me and quickly whipped it up and pointed it at the pirates head. He spun around and looked at me. "Crossing blades with a pirate?"

"Do you think this wise boy?" he asked me.

"You threatened Miss Swann," I said, voice hard. And your kind took Clara from me.

He moved the blade of his sword so it slid back and forth over my blade. A metallic noise was made and it grated on my nerves. Taunting me.

"Only a little," he smiled. He swung first; three little hits. I blocked each one and we paused. He was testing me.

In the first few blows, I concentrated on my defence and let my muscles settle back into the rhythm of sword fighting. I'd practised with a sword the last seven years of my life and I'd gotten better as time passed. The pirate seemed unhappy to see that I knew what I was doing. We traded feints, thrusts and parries with a speed that came with an accomplished fighter and a practised hand. My feet balanced me easily and my hand defended me. I could match the pirate easily.

We slid across the dirt covered ground, back and forth. "You know what you're doing, I'll give you that," the pirate said. "Excellent form. But how's your footwork? If I step here—" his leg crossed over the other as he took a step to the side in an imaginary circle. I stepped the other way, copying the movement and maintaining the fight between us.

"Very good. And if I step again—" he did the same thing again, and I copied him. We ended so we were exactly opposite where we had originally been. "Ta," he said as he sheathed his sword and turned around to walk out the door that was now directly behind him. He had played me!

Annoyed surprise roiled inside me and with a sharp overhead motion, I threw my sword. It buried itself into the wood of the door, just above the latch. A satisfied smirk lifted my lips as the sword had only just missed the pirate. He pulls on the latch, but it won't budge, the sword blocks it from moving. Despite this, he still rattles the latch before attempting to pull the sword out of the wood. It did not move. His shoulder slump in dismay, his lips moving as he mouths a curse and turns back to see my smiling face.

"That is a wonderful trick," he said, walking back towards me. "Except, once again, you are between me and my way out. Now, you have no weapon," he said, drawing his sword out again. My eyes widen as I realise he's right. I spin around and spot the fire. There was a poker sitting in it, and I grabbed it, spinning back around. The tip that had been in the fire glowed red hot and I made a mental note to keep it away from my skin.

The donkey shrieks and starts to move the wheel at the appearance of the glowing poker. The pirates eyes narrowed on the tip of it. He dashes to my left and I spin around backwards to meet him; our weapons clash and ring and sparks fall from the poker. He went back the other way and I followed, reversing my previous move. Back and forth we move and our blades meet in an 'X'. He swings the chain still manacled to his wrist at me and it smashes into my weapon. The poker flew across the room. I was disarmed.

I spun and dived over a moving spoke from the wheel the donkey rotated before quickly grabbing another sword. The pirate glances at the wheel and suddenly becomes aware that the wheel was holding multiple swords, in various stages of completion.

"Who makes all these?" he asked me in disbelief.

Our swordplay became increasingly harder as we moved around and over the spokes of the wheel. I jumped up onto a spoke and balanced there. The pirate did a similar thing and we were separated by the main post.

I leaned towards one side of the post and swung my blade, "I do." I moved back and swung to the other side, "And I practise with them." I swung back to the other side again, "Three hours a day." Each set of words were punctuated on either side of the revolving pole. My voice was laced with exertion. It was one thing to practise by yourself, and another to have an opponent.

"You need to find yourself a girl, mate," he said, clinging to the side of the pole.

I felt my jaw clench and I swung at his head. He ducked. Unfortunately. He grabbed a mallet attached to the top wheel and used it as well.

Our swords met again and we stood like that as he spoke. "Or, perhaps the reason you practise three hours a day is because you've found one," he swayed back and forth.

Clara.

"And are incapable of wooing said strumpet," he wobbled on his feet and I wondered how he had the balance for sword fighting. Was he drunk? "You're not a eunich are you?" he asked, glancing downwards.

I felt my face scrunch up in anger and disbelief. "The reason I practise three hours a day is so that when I meet a pirate; I can kill it!" I exploded.

"Ah," the pirate nodded in understanding and I pushed on the sword. He stumbled backwards and upwards onto a wagon. I followed him, and our combined weight, moved it away from the wall where it rested. It wobbled and I fought to keep balance as it swayed up and down.

The pirate parries and thrusts with both his sword and chain. The chain wraps around my sword and I twist the handle of it so it passes through a link in the chain. In one swift movement, I stab my sword into a wooden beam overhead, successfully pining it there and suspending his arm.

He parries using one hand and I jerk back at his wild swings. He steps on one board in the wagon and it flings up, smashing into my chin and knocking me backwards, off the wagon and into the dirt. I watch in astonishment as he grabs a hold of the chain with both hands and swings himself upside down, yanking and pulling at the sword.

I walk back onto the edge of the wagon, just as the sword comes loose and he falls onto the opposite side of the wagon. The downward motion of his fall forces me up onto the wooden beams in the roof. I grab a hold of a vertical beam and look down to see the pirate getting back up. I move my feet across the narrow beams and look directly down at him. He grins, obviously wanting to take the opportunity to get away.

I slash my sword out and cut the rope holding a barrel up. It falls and crashed into the wagon, sending the pirate flying up here as well. He quickly pulls himself up and faces me on the beams. We moved towards each other and we jumped onto two parallel beams. I landed on one, while the pirate landed on the other. I jumped across to be on the same one as him, just as he jumped across to mine, avoiding me. We did the same thing again, ending up on our original planks. The pirate moved again, jumping onto mine and his smile disappeared as he realised I didn't move from it.

We swung again, the clang of steel on steel shattering the quiet of the room. I moved closer and he retreated. I moved the blade and suddenly he was weapon-less. He jumped down and I followed him, landing with a thud on the ground. I looked across to him and he was up higher than me, standing on a beam about a meter and a half off the ground.

I moved towards him as he grabbed a bag of red dirt and emptied it on me. I closed my mouth and eyes so it wouldn't ingest any or have it sting my eyes. I tilt my head forward and stumble back, trying to get away from the onslaught. When the dirt stopped pouring I whipped my head and saw the pirate aiming a pistol right between my eyes.

"You cheated," I said. Honestly, though, I wasn't surprised.

"Pirate," he said, like I should have expected it. Pirates don't fight fair.

Over my shoulder I heard people pounding on the door, heaving against it to open. I moved so I was in front of the door. The pirates pistol followed me.

"Move away," he demanded.

"No," I shook my head, still holding my sword in the air like a hammer.

"Please move," he said. I cocked my head at him. He truly was the weirdest pirate.

"No," I said, louder this time. "I can not just step aside and let you escape."

His gun clicked as he got ready to shoot. "This shot is not meant for you." I frowned at him, what did that mean?

And then I heard glass shatter and the pirate fell to the ground. Brown stood behind, the broken handle of the rum bottle in his hand. The men broke through then, the wooden door splintering. They encircled him and pointed the tips of their bayonets at him.

"Excellent work Mr Brown. You've assisted in the capture of a dangerous fugitive," Norrington said to the still drunk owner of the smithy.

I rolled my eyes. You've got to be kidding.

"Just doing my civic duty, sir," Brown replied.

"Well, I trust that this is the day you will always remember as the day Capitan Jack Sparrow almost escaped. Take him away," Norrington said, before leaving.

I turned around and became aware of the brown soot covering my face. I needed a bath.

CLARA P.O.V.

Davy jones locked his piercing gaze on me. His black eyes looked as menacing as ever. You never got used to eyes like that. A small shiver ran through me. The sun was high in the sky but of course it was cold and gloomy on the quarter deck.

"How would you like to get back at your father?" he asked me wickedly.

I cocked my head at him. How would I be able to do that? Did I want to get back at him? Yes. Yes, I did. He gave me up, traded me for something else and set me to sea in a box. It's his fault I'm here, on board this cursed ship. I wanted to hurt him like he hurt me.

"How?" I asked suspiciously.

His grin grew and the tentacles on his chin withered about.

So... What's going to happen next?

What do you readers think?

I know, do you?

Of course not. ;)