This is more like one-and-a-half chapters, but I'm posting it as one.

The first scene her raised the rating a little bit - my bad. Anyway, keep in mind that I'm working without that magical device we know as spell-check. Cheers, and happy reading!


Meryl stretched out her legs as she awoke, her eyes still glued shut with the sweet intoxication of deep sleep. She raised her arms above her head to stretch out the kink in her back, and jumped a little as her hands hit a smooth wooden headboard.

This is not my bed.

She rolled over onto her side, rubbing her eyes to coax them open. Two warm, coarse hands ran themselves over her abdomen.

Meryl blinked the last of sleep from her eyes, and quickly remembered the evening before. Beside her, Jack was lying on his side, his nakedness barely covered by the wool blanket he kept on his bed. His hands slid slowly down her stomach, one onto each leg, slowly making their way to the centre.

She moaned a little, then pulled him gently closer to her, against her, above her... inside her.

"Morning, luv," Jack smiled devlishly as his body rocked quickly, roughly, almost violently above her. "How'd you sleep?"

A moan escaped Meryl's mouth. "Did we sleep at all?" She managed between breaths.

"Aye," Jack lowered himself closer to her and began to run his tongue along her collarbone.

His actions were met with another, slightly longer moan. His lips worked their way up to her neck, where he bit and licked her pale skin, teasingly at first, until the bites became rougher, almost demanding. Meryl bent her knees and drew herself in tighter to him. His thrusts became harder, and then harder still.

An empassioned cry of pleasure esaped Meryl. She felt her abdomenal muscles tighten, and then out of nowhere, release. Her cries subsided, her breathing (as well as Jack's) began to slow.

"We should get down to the brig," Jack managed between gasps, remembering that he had yet to determine the fate of those captured aboard the Spring's Wind.

"Aye," Meryl nodded in agreement.

Still, neither moved for several minutes.


Umi pressed her head against the cool metal bars that surrounded her. Crowded in behind her was the rest of her crew, their chatter blurring into a sort of dull roar as it clamoured about in her head. She closed her eyes, hoping that by shutting off her vision she might quell the ache that was pushing with persistance behind those slanted pools of hazel-brown.

After a few painful moments, she gave up and opened them again. The man in the corner of the brig was still staring at the imprisoned crew with an intensity that scared her. She stole another glance at him.

Though not a tall man, he carried himself with an air of absolute authority. His coarse black hair fell in tufts, touching his tanned, weathered skin with the same lightness as a curl of smoke caressing the wick of an extinguised candle. She could see a large gold earring glint through his messy mane on one side of his head. Around his waist he wore a bright red sash, and into the fold of it he had tucked a tarnised brass telescope. If Umi had not already seen the Black Pearl's captian, she would have taken this man to be such.

That is, if she hadn't watched him enter the brig through the ship's impermeable solid hull.

For a fleeting moment, his shadowed eyes locked with hers. Umi bit her lip and immediately darted her gaze to her feet.

Oh God, she thought, that was a bad move. That was a very, very bad move.

Silently, she prayed that he hadn't noticed her suspicious, darting eyes.

He had.

"Hello?" He tried, his gaze now locked on Umi's narrow face, obscured as it was by a waterfall of straight black hair. She concentrated hard on ingnoring him. "Hello? Oh God, tell me you saw that." He strode across the brig slowly, his words falling on deaf ears, excepting those of Umi. "Tell me you hear this..." His face was now inches from her own. "Please."

Umi kept her eyes down, trying as best she could to retain the appearance of being unmoved. The man narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her carefully. His expression then changed from one of hope to despair. Umi relaxed. He turned away, making for the corner in which he had been standing. Then, with the air of one who has forgotten some small trinket behind him, he turned back, and reached out his hand.

Umi watched with fear as the hand passed through - not between , but quite literally through - the bars, and touched her gently on the cheek. She shivvered at his touch, which was icy and hot at the same time, a terrible sensation that always gripped her whenever one of Them touched her. Finally, she let her eyes meet his honestly.

"You can see me..." The man's mouth hung open stupidly. Umi nodded discretely, knowing all too well that none of her crewmates saw, heard, or felt this man's presence. As far she knew, nobody could - nobody but she. It was something she had hidden for the entirety of her life. Her ability had been brushed off by parents and schoolmasters as childhood fancy, dismissed as part of the sweet madness of one so young.

For her part, Umi loathed Them, but she knew that once one realized it could make contact with her, there was no returning. She had to help this man.

"Who are you?" Umi muttered quickly. Her words were eaten up by the chatter of the crew, and reached the only set of ears they were intended for.

The man's voice still shook from the surprise. "My name is Roberts. Black Bartholomew Roberts."

It was Umi's turn to gape stupidly. "What do you want from me?" She stammered under her breath. "Why are you still about on this plane?" Some of Umi's crewmates had begun to take notice of her mumblings.

"There is one on this ship I've been watching over," Roberts said solemnly. "Months and months it's been, driving me within an inch of my mind. I need to relate a message... you can help me." His face lighted considerably, and the winter of hopelessness eternal was driven from his weathered face.

Umi sighed. "I can."

"You can?" A crewman, who had been listening to her, frowned in confusion.

"I'm... trying to recall a rhyme," Umi explained hurriedly.

The man nodded skeptically. "Didn't rhyme too well, what I heard."

Umi ignored him. "Who do you need to speak with?" She asked, adding a sing-song lilt to her speech to add credibility to her excuse.

The stairs down to the brig creaked, and two pairs of boots appeared. The pair that descended first walked with an ill-at-ease swagger, and those that followed were surrounded by the hem of a worn-out red dress. Ducking through the door frame, Umi recognized the Black Pearl's captain, followed by a dark-haired girl of medium height, looking a little dissheveled.

Roberts stared at the girl longingly, then turned to Umi.

"Her," was all that he said.


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