Okay, I was getting bored. The days without zoo work are really and annoyingly devoid of anything interesting. In other news, Preakness today!

Enjoy the chapter. Don't mind me being moronic.

Disclaimer: It is my intention to commandeer some of these characters, pick up a plot in Tortuga, write, picture, ponder and otherwise publish my weasely black guts out.

Chapter Seven: Experimenting with the Unknown

She fell back, stunned. "No way."

James reached out a hand as though to help her up, then swiftly withdrew it as though to avoid touching her. "Well it must be true; there's no other explanation for what you say just happened." She looked up at him, eyes glistening with unexpected tears. He suspected it was because she was afraid of what she was—a fear he shared. He could not dislike this girl who was virtually his only family, no matter what kind of person she was, witch or not, and so swallowed his discomfort and gathered her into a hug, stroking her hair soothingly. "Shh..."

"I'm so sorry!" she began to sob softly into his shirt front.

"What? Why ever—?"

"It's my fault your mother was accused of witchery. It's my fault she's gone, and my fault you had to go through so much pain. It's all my fault..."

His hand went from stroking her hair to rubbing her back. "There there..."

She gasped for breath, her nose having been squished into his chest, turning her head to listen to his heartbeat, sobbing still. "Where? Where?"

"I do not blame you. I know for a fact my mother was no witch. She was only accused because she had a few possessions from this world which seemed rather, ah, unworldly—pun not intended." This quieted her somewhat. "And besides," he went on, "if it weren't for you, she would never have been able to enjoy life for even the length that she did. And... I wouldn't be here either; so no one day's head start for Sparrow."

"C-c-captain," she managed shakily. "I'm sorry—"

"Don't be."

"—I just can't help but feel responsible." And she continued to cry.

He shushed her gently when an idea came to him. "Come stop your crying, it'll be all right," he sang to her in a gentle baritone. "Come take my hand, hold it tight. I will protect you from all around you. I will be here, don't you cry..."

"James, I never realized..." she sobbed, though beginning to quiet down.

"What?"

"...You're a good singer!"

"Well, I sang it for you, pet."

"No, I mean really—it's like you're a professional."

He continued to sing, hoping to calm her. It was some time into the second verse when he was cut off by Scott poking his head in the door. "Hey, we're playing some games downstairs, d'you wanna come down and join—?" He stopped upon seeing the situation. "What's wrong?" he demanded.

James gave him an embarrassed look. "She's being homesick for me." It wasn't so much of a lie...

"Um...okay..."

"Look at her, Reverend. She's exhausted." And that was no lie at all.

"Oh. Maybe you should turn in early. It's okay, you don't have to play Twister."

"Twister?" Her head poked up. "I own!" And she raced off.

"Ehh..." Norrington gave the other man a strained look. "Some niece, isn't she?" And he followed.

Once downstairs, the game had already begun. Several were waiting in line for the next game, and the others were playing some board games and card games. The former-Commodore sat in a couch, immediately sinking another five inches into the butt-trap, and watched contentedly as the kids all twisted and stretched, straining to keep their balance and still touch the correctly-colored circles. Amy, with years of experience in the saddle, a balancing act in itself, naturally won.

The next group of people (for indeed only six could play at a time) were getting ready to begin the next round, and they pulled James up from his seat, asking him to join them. He had managed to befriend some of the boys, and a reader may imagine they have become fond of him. The girls were there, too, and one of the female chaperones was going to participate. But he only smiled and agreed to play. He was tired of being suspicious, he decided. He had absolutely nothing to distrust here. Amy read him like a book, and grinned proudly to herself. She elected to be the spinner. Now it's time for some fun, she thought wickedly. Let's see what you can do, Ellie-boy. And she spun. "Right foot, red," she called out. There, the first move had been spun. She spun again. "Right hand green." ((A/N The color order is RYBG. It's probably not right, but I was too lazy to go and check)) That was the dot farthest away. Good. She wanted to make this a challenge for the physically fit Commodore. I wonder... She spun again, this time half-willing it to stop on left-hand-red. It did not. "Left foot yellow." I guess I need practice. Is it even really possible for this to happen? She tried again, this time giving a good effort in will and focus for it. "Left hand, red." Sweet!

With three limbs on one side and a hand on the complete opposite, the position was difficult. On the next spin, both the girls had fallen and were out. Spin...concentrate... "Left foot blue." It took some adjusting of position, but the man managed to stay in the game. Ames paused, seeing how long they could hold the position. One of the boys' socked feet slipped out from under him, nearly knocking the female chaperone over as he went down.

Spin...concentrate... "Right foot green." The lady slipped. It was down to James and one of the boys. "Left foot, red." The two had to maneuver around each other, given their positions. It went on until, twisting into a truly uncomfortable position, James won. The man was flexible. There was a small applause, and he bowed comically and sat back down. However, as he approached a couch, Amy noticed his limp had grown more noticeable. Handing off the spinner to some other willing soul, she sank...and sank into the couch beside him.

He gave her a look. "That was your doing, wasn't it?"

Was it? she thought uncertainly. She tried to look innocent. "I was just experimenting, that's all."

"Then that's...good for you," he growled through gritted teeth, pain becoming audible in his voice.

"I'm so sorry, James, I completely forgot you were hurt."

"No."

"Huh?"

"No more being sorry. We've -ah- had enough of that for today, all right?"

"Fine. Are you going to be okay?"

"It'll pass. So it was -ah- working, then, hmm?"

"Yeah, most of the time," unless it was all coincidence, she silently added doubtfully. "The thing is, I still don't know what it is I was doing to make stuff happen."

"We'll figure it out. It just takes some time."

"We? So then you're not going back to your wo—home?" she caught herself, recalling they were still in a crowded lounge.

"I'm not going anywhere—you need my help," he replied sincerely, pain having passed.

"Aww. You're as sweet as pie."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Not cookies?"

"Sure, cookies too."

"Glad to know I'm such a treat to you," he grinned.

Her face set into comically pissed-off. "No cookies for you!" she snapped good-naturedly.

He pretended to pout. They both chuckled. "We'll see what we can do tomorrow."

"Oh."

"Hmm?"

"We're all going home tomorrow."

"Oh...do you...do you think your family will allow me to stay?" James didn't particularly like the idea of actually being homeless.

"Well, let's see...you and Jack were the ones who brought me back to them, and they must be eternally grateful, so I don't think they'll mind too much, save for the no heads up." By now, he understood what such expressions meant. "And my loud-mouth sister came home for the weekend, but she'll be on the train back to college by the time we get home." He didn't bother asking what a train was. "So we should be good."

"Then after we get there, we can get to work."

"Right," she grinned. But her smile quickly began to fade. "Er...just in case, let's try some stuff tonight, too."

"All right. Meet me down here at midnight. I believe I have something important to show you."

"What? Really?"

"Yes."

"All righty then!" Ace Ventura. "So hey James..."

"Yes, Todd?"

"Were you feeling at all carsick in the vans this weekend?"

"Surprisingly not."

"Surprisingly?"

"Yes. You see, when I was first introduced to nautical life, I had terrible motion sickness..." And they spent the rest of the evening immersed in stories of James' first adventures aboard the HMS Falcon.


Okay, so a little bit of changing it up. Instead of stuff conveniently happening like she wanted, we can understand how she made them happen. Well, sorta. I think my main beef with this whole story was that I tried to make my character too much like me, and well... I'm not cut out for those kinds of scenarios. I feel at home by forests and streams, not the ocean (although it is pretty and smells good and has great scope for imagination), and I'm not a big fan of wind (on which these ships rely). Maybe for once, I will be able to craft a character that has her own, well, character. We'll see.

Reviews and feedback?