"You're the seller?"

Rackham was the first to speak, breaking into the hefty atmosphere that had settled around them with as much grace as taking a hammer to a sculpture done by the great Michelangelo himself. He left his post at the other doorway, coming towards the spot where Clara had stepped through, but before he could pass the door way, Clara threw her machete out to block his path. She knew Silver was gone, and hopefully by now far away from Noonans, but she needed to buy as much time as she could to make sure they couldn't even spot a curl of his in the crowd.

One glimpse of Silver by Rackham or Vane and it was game over. They would know who the seller was, hunt him down and then Clara, Max and Silver would be of no use, non what-so-ever. It was best for all involved for Silver to be kept in the shadows... For now.

Although blocking Rackhams pathway to the room situated behind them, Clara wasn't stupid enough to take her eyes away from Vane who was standing a few feet in front of her. She was half afraid that one tiny diversion or distraction on her part would leave her in Max's place, crumpled and struggling for breathe at his feet, or worse. Schooling her features, Clara tried to construct a front of nonchalant around her, keeping her tone light, even when her vocal cords wanted to crack and strain under the pressure building there. One sniff of weakness, one fraction of a slip, Vane would pounce, Clara had no doubt about that.

"Not quite. I wouldn't bother, he's long gone. Threatening Max was not a good way of securing the deal."

Rackham stayed close, but backed away and to the side a few steps, peering around her and through the open door. Clara didn't mind, Silver was out of that room and as long as they stayed away from the balcony he had escaped from for a few moments more, she, Max and Silver would be categorically in the safe zone. Well, as safe as Clara would ever be in the same room as Vane. Which weren't great prospects even with holding something he wanted back from him.

Clara had to keep reminding herself she had gotten past Vane before, she could do it again if it came to it. Redundant to her own mind, knowing he had partially let her and she had had Flint and Silver backing her up the time before. But it did help with stealing her spine and the glare she sent towards a smirking Vane. Vane broke eye contact with Clara, looking down and towards a still scattered Max.

"You, Leave."

Max, now red in the face and still clutching at her swan like neck, peered up at Vane when he sent the command her way. It wasn't a question, wasn't a polite request, it was a demand. The way he said it, his emotionless tone and his discard of Max's obvious discomfort and haggard appearance, showed Clara he was a man used to being followed, without questions or arguments.

Clara almost smiled, he would have none of that when it came to her, she could hardly keep her mouth closed on a good day, on her worst or when angered, which seemed Vane had a specialty in bringing out of her, she acted and spoke like she had a death wish. A death wish Clara thought Vane would be too happy and willing to help her succeed in getting.

Max looked her way, her eyes wide, misty from all the coughing, beholding a silent question. She was asking Clara without words if she was going to be okay. Clara's confidence and resolve solidified in her veins, in her soul, making her stand taller then she had ever stood since stepping foot onto the sand of this island. She had done the right thing in coming into here instead of running in the opposite direction like her mind had screamed for her to do, and if this was her last act, she was glad it was a good one to go out to.

Clara sent a smile Max's way, hoping to ease the womans worries. Clara was going to be okay, she was going to get out of this, she would live to see another day, pissed off Vane or not. Clara had to, and would believe that. Vane would not be the one to close the curtains on her, she wouldn't allow the man such a monumental role in her life. She would die another day. Nodding, Clara whispered her answer, but it was heard by all in the shabby room.

"Go."

Max gathered her skirts up, clambered up and darted out of the room. Clara was relieved, she had come in here to make sure Max was safe, and she had done that, actually succeeded in her half witted plan. When she had first entered the room, saw Vanes taunting smirk, she had half the mind to think neither her or Max would be leaving this room. If Max had gotten out from this, even if she was being choked to death seconds before, so could Clara. Max's escape gave Clara hope for her own, but that smile that was still on Vanes face, grating up and through Claras confidence, told her it wasn't going to be easy... And definitely not without a lofty price tag to go along with it.

Vane circled around her with calculated sidesteps, Clara following his footing to keep him in front of her and away from her back, both stuck in an odd sort of dance. When He stepped, she stepped, like synchronized prowling of an injured deer or fowl, only to realize her mistake when it was already too late to correct. He was by the secret door now, closing it by reaching behind him blindly. And while she was distracted with him, Jack had taken up his station back at the other door, securely locking her in this hellish room with no exits, no way to escape with out having to take on either Rackham or Vane. The former being the optimal choice if push came to shove, but still unlikely of actually succeeding.

"I didn't think you would have been caught up in this... Double crossing your father when you seemed so loyal to him before."

Clara could feel her cheek twitch at Vanes candidly bringing Flint up, at her father being spoken about. By the widening of Vanes grin, he had done it on purpose and got the reaction he wanted from her. Claras fingers wound tighter around the machetes handle at her side, she needed to play it off, divert his probing of her buttons to press to get his desired responses. So, even if it was the last thing she wanted to do, she smiled toothily, almost easy in Vanes presence, trying her best to mimic Silver. Her temper would not get her out of this, but her mind would.

"I've only recently gotten involved. Can you blame me? Look around you... There aren't many professions for someone of my gender here that don't involve catering to the needs of men like you."

Vanes hand settled on a long, sharp knife strapped to his waist, fingers tapping away to some unheard tune playing in his head as he eyed her up and down. He didn't come away from the door, instead leaning against the corner of the connected walls with his shoulder, one foot crossed in front of the other. As if he was at perfect ease, as if he had everything under control, as if he had Clara under control. Clara couldn't stand for it, but at the same time didn't want to provoke Vane into beheading her before she could plan her way out of this, and away from the big fucker.

"Men like me? Sorry red, but there's no one quite like me. So that was your big plan? Get the money and sail away into the sun set?"

Vane pushed off from the wall, strolling towards her and Claras machete inched up slightly towards him, scowling as she did so. It didn't stop his approach and Clara had to lock her legs to refrain from backing away. So, Clara resorted to threats, half bluffing her way through her words. Both of them forgetting about Rackham by the other door, who was happy to just listen, and act when and if the time came for it.

"You take one more step towards me, you kill me, and it will end badly for you. How many women and men have seen you come barging into this room? Because a lot have seen me go into the room next door. It wont take long for Flint to piece the links together. Especially with a few choice coins here and there."

Vane stopped, hand coming away from his knife to hang down at his side. His smirk turning into a bemused smile, as if she had made a joke she wasn't aware of. Her death, or her possible death, was not something Clara was willing to make light of, leaving her confused and more than a sprinkle of worried at his hasty change of attitude.

"Kill you? No, I don't want to kill you, just to have a little chat."

Why did such a nice, simple word such as chat feel so ominous when passed through his smiling lips? Because it did, it really did. Before, back down in the tavern beneath their feet, when Bonny and Rackham had dragged her to meet him, he had said they could have been friends, and even then Clara knew that his definition of friends was the complete opposite of her own. Chat, from him, was exactly the same as him saying friends. Clara didn't want to chat, or to be friends with him, his definition or hers.

"A little chat? If you remember we've tried that before. Then you tried to have me kidnapped and got that cut along your chest for your efforts. If you want a round two, go ahead, lets chat."

Clara may know of the dangers of this, of Vane, but he needed reminding that she could bring her own trouble to the table. Admittedly, Clara knew the slice across his broad chest was a one in a million, a swish of lucks helpful hand on her part. But did he know that? Did he need to know that? No, Vane needed to believe she was not worth the hassle. But his smile bloomed once more, and instead of turning him off from this situation, she felt like she had enticed him further into it. She could have bit her own tongue off then.

"How long have you known Flint?"

Vanes question smacked her off her pedestal, momentarily making her frown in confusion rather then anger, blinking a few times to clear her befuddled head. Vane turned away from her, walked around her prone standing form and sat himself down on an open chair near them, pushed up by a round table. Was this a trap? Ask her and if she said only a little while, kill her off? Or to know how much of an impact her death would have on Flint? Turning her head, she stared at the waiting Vane, deciding on a noncommittal answer was the best bet.

"Long enough."

Vane chuckled, unsheathed his long knife that he had been tapping on, planted the blade into the table and proceeded to twirl the knife in circles, drilling a hole into the wood of the table, watching as the metal span and glinted in the bright yellow light of the sun rising behind him from the open balcony. It was sort of hypnotizing in a way, watching his fingers swirl around the handle causing the blade to spin faster and faster. Without much thought, Clara felt her body turning away from the now vacated door to the other room, an exit she could have easily made a dash for if her head had been securely on her shoulders. What game was Vane playing?

"Obviously not long then. You haven't been here long either. You still don't understand how things work here. I wasn't lying before, we could help each other out."

Clara shot a quick glimpse in Rackhams direction, happy he still hadn't moved from his spot, snuck up behind her and wasn't ready to dig a sword through her back with a nod from Vane. But her attention was back on Vane all too soon, wondering and pondering, then wondering again what he was getting at. She thought she made pretty clear where she stood on that offer, Clara wanted no part of it. Her voice was slightly higher pitched when she spoke, the frayed edges of her words giving away her confusion.

"Yes, I sell Flint out and you offer me this protection you keep hammering on about. I think I'm doing fine on my own thank you very much."

What a lie. Clara couldn't be further from fine. Her mother, Mary was dead, only to find out her real mother was alive, a pirate for a father, bruised, aching, confused. Vane sent a glance her way, as if he knew exactly how far from fine she was. Clara lips curled up involuntarily at his catch of her true emotions. But he only chuckled, still spinning the knife, other hand resting on his lap with his kicked out legs. Relaxed, he looked so relaxed that Clara had to fight down the urge to flip the table out from under him, anything to get him as on edge as he made her, to even out the playing field.

"No, protection is not what I'm offering. Flint could, and has easily given you that and you know it. But as you said, there isn't many jobs for women such as you self in this place. How long do you think you can get by, even if this deal goes through, before you have to resort to whoring yourself out to... What was it you said? Men like me?"

Clara stormed over and sat down in the chair opposite him. If she and Vane were going to have this conversation, they would be doing it eye to eye. Plus, with him so close, her machete wouldn't have far to go to implant itself through his skull. So tempting... So very very tempting.

"That's were you don't understand. I wont need to whore myself out-"

Vane cut her off, snatched out the spinning knife from the groove it had dug, holding it securely in his closed fist, and gave her a mocking stare. Clara reached up to the table, clasping the edge of it tightly, getting ready to haul herself out of the comfy chair if Vane moved an inch more. It would take a blind person not to see how easily they were outmatched when it came to a fight. Vane could kill her without a moments noticed, and even armed with a machete of all things, Clara wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight. She had no Silver or Flint to interrupt this time, to come in and save her arse.

"Why? Because daddy dearest will look after you? You don't seem to be the type to let that happen, but then again I could be wrong. Am I wrong Clara?"

He leaned closer towards her over the small table, elbow braced on it, arm crossed over his neck, fist under the side of his chin holding the glinting blade. Clara found herself copying his movements, cheeks flushing in anger at his jab at her character, at her intelligence, and as abstinent Clara was to admit such a thing, against his slight against Flint himself.

"Fuck your games, fuck your petty little remarks and fuck you!"

Vane slid back from Clara, arms folding neatly over his chest, his gaze still steady on her. Clara pulled away too, breathing heavier then she was before, from the adrenalin, from the anger, from Vane. He was like a tornado, whirling and ripping up her sanity and any semblance of her balance in his wake. She was too rash when it came to him, to quick with her words and less with her thoughts. And Vane, Vane wanted it that way. Whatever Vane wanted, Clara knew to stay as far away from that as possible, but he kept her off kilter so well, always second guessing him, herself, everything. She needed to get a grip on herself and keep it.

"I wouldn't be so hasty to die when you haven't even heard my deal yet."

Circles. Never ending circles was what made up this island, it was in everything. From routine, to piracy, to speaking to one another. She was surprised anyone in this place ever got anywhere with the way they went about things. Why couldn't they just state what they wanted, when they needed to instead of only giving you a taste that left you wanting more?

"Yes, spy on Flint, give you all his dirty little secrets. I. Wont. Do. It."

The smile was back, and Clara watched as Vane twirled the knife between and through his fingers gracefully. Sometimes, when the angle was just right and the sun shone on the metal, Clara could swear she could see her own eyes reflected back at her as Vane made the knife dance. Then, his voice broke her out of it, out of her skimming through answers only Vane had. His answer, which she wasn't expecting, felt like a solid punch to the gut, winding her in her seat. Of all things, she had not expected what he said next the most. Maybe it wasn't her who needed to check her sanity, it could very well be Vane who needed the doctor.

"No, not even that. I'm offering you a place on my crew."

Clara couldn't move, couldn't breath, could only wonder if he was being serious or if this was a giant joke on her. A test maybe? Another trap to walk into? Rackham came away from the door, his long coat flapping behind him as he walked over to a highly amused Vane. She almost connected to Rackham then, he looked as shocked at Vane as she was feeling. When Rackham reached Vane, who was still staring at Clara, he braced a hand on the back of Vanes chair and leaned down slightly.

"Wait.. What? Charles just yesterday this girl was out for your blood if you remember? Should we really be offering her a place on our ship? By the looks of her, she's more than likely to slit our throats in our sleep then actually be a part of our crew, or any help at all really."

The twirling of the knife stopped, and Vane flicked it back into the holder wrapped around his waist. Vane didn't spare a glance at Rackham, instead placing his forearms onto his spread knees, leaning forward and towards a still bewildered Clara.

"Exactly. Loyalty in Nassau is a hard thing to come by. It's no secret, by you running away, and the big chase that followed, that you didn't like Flint, or didn't want him around you. Yet you were still loyal to him at the end of it. You also charged in here for some whore, knowing full well I was in here. You join my crew, be loyal to me, and you'll have a steady income, a place to rest and more security then you need. No one will try anything if you're sailing under my colors."

Sailing under his colors. Clara sagged back into her chair, head lolling against the high back and chuckled. She understood now. Everything fit together in her mind. Vane not killing her before, his amusement, him holding back yesterday when he could have easily snapped her neck when he had her pinned to the taverns sticky floor. This wasn't about her, not at all. She was just a link in a chain that led back to the man Vane was really after... Flint. Clara was starting to wonder if everything here, in this wasteland of lost men and women, led back to Flint, or just everything to do with her.

"I get it. I understand it now. This is one giant Fuck you to Flint. You want him gone, what better way to sow discord through his crew than having his own very daughter defect and join yours. This isn't about my loyalty, isn't about me at all. This is all you and Flint. I'm just the tool to take a hit at Flint, and have his crew go flocking to you when Flint is finally gone."

Clara lifted her head back up from staring at the damp stained ceiling, watching as Vane lent back in his chair, one of his hands running up his thigh as he pulled back, his head cocked to the side as he took in her oddly placed laughter. She couldn't help it, she never thought she would have figured out Vanes game, yet here she was, nearly a hundred percent sure she had it all mapped out in her head.

Vane wanted Flints crew and the man in question gone. With Flint gone, Vane would be top dog in this place, and Clara, in Vanes eyes, thought she was the key to this coming about. Clara nearly laughed again at the ridiculousness of it all. Clara had never been the key to anything in her life, always a background character or the one no one heard about. just a body to fill in the crowds, to give depth for the real stars of the show to shine.

"Does it matter who this is about? Me, you, Jack, Flint, none of it matters. You'll be getting everything you need to survive on this island. Being Flints daughter will only hold the wolfs off for so long, then what? Lay down and take it? No, I can't see you doing that and if you're honest with yourself, you can't either. You and I both know that now Flint has you on this island, he ain't letting you off again. And although you will be a part of my crew, I can at least offer you the freedom of having your own shares of prizes and sailing off to other lands. Would Flint offer the same? Or keep you locked up?"

Rackham pulled away from the both of them as some humanoid silhouettes passed the glass of the door, creeping over, pulling the sheer lace back to peek out. Obviously not bothered by who had passed, as he let the lace curtain drop and turned back to face Vane and Clara. Clara was too sweeped up in Vane to even bother to be hopeful or worried about who had swaggered past.

"Yes, you're also offering me to go off and kill innocent people for money. It doesn't sound so pretty my way does it?"

Vane scoffed, a deep guttural sound that came from the back of his throat, making Clara think of a wolfs grumble before the beast would snarl.

"Innocent people? Don't make me laugh. They're just as bad as we are. You're English aren't you? Not very high up from your clothes or the slang to your words. Did they ever help you? Ever even look your way when you needed it? No, because they only care for themselves."

His words were to close to how Clara felt that it shook her up slightly. How many times had she berated the lords and ladies in her head? Thought about them with more than a hint of disgust at their behavior or lack of compassion? But she couldn't let him too close, couldn't let Vane know how his own words resounded inside of her. He just wanted her for Flint, and she would not be used in such a way. Her pride, her self worth, even her self doubt would not let her fall into such an arrangement. She wasn't something to be picked up when needed and thrown back down once the job was done.

"And you lot don't? When Flint took over the ship I was on, there was a man, Mccaffer, one of the kindest people I knew. Do you know what happened to him? They slaughtered him, stuck a cutlass right through his chest and threw him overboard like he was nothing. And you want me to be a part of that? Will the same happen to me when I outlive my usefullness?"

It hurt a lot more then Clara expected when she brought up Mccaffer. The kind old man who stuck by her on her long voyage, even when she was throwing her guts up in heaves that matched the pace of the tides that would rock the ship. Life wasn't fair, Clara knew that more then anyone, but she refused, downright denied, that she would do the same thing that had happened to Mccaffer to another unsuspecting victim.

But then again, as the cooks face flashed in her minds eye, she realized she already had. She didn't know the cook, he may have had a family, a child to go home to. And she had snatched that away from them, for her own sake, her own well being. Was she any different then the man in front of her? the answer was a lot more muddled than Clara would have liked it to be, and she had to swallow down the bile that was threatening to rise.

"Well, that's the difference isn't it? That was Flints Crew. Not mine. He would have been offered a place on my ship if it had have been me."

Vane, Clara found, was a lot less adapt at Silvers verbal skirt arounds, or his innocent act. Vane was too gruff, to brutally honest in facial expressions, to pull such a thing off completely. Something Clara could sympathize with. Clara also realized the two men, as opposite as night and day, had their own tell tale signs of how to figure them out. Vane with his expressions and unguarded, almost brutish manner of speech, and Silver, you could figure him out by what he didn't say instead of what he did. Her tone was cool when she did speak, nearly glacial.

"Are you trying to tell me you don't kill people? You can't possibly think I would believe that you're the saint of the seven seas. You didn't get to the top by being a nice guy, it doesn't work that way."

"No it doesn't. and you think the Captains of legal ships are somehow different? Just because someone with a crown put their name next to theirs? The only reason your ship ended up in pieces was because they refused to surrender. They brought the fight, not Flint. That Captain of the ship was just as responsible for that mans life as Flint was. But because he had a fucking blue coat, because he wasn't smart enough to realize when he was out gunned, he and his crew died."

That... That was a bitter pill to take down for Clara. She hadn't of thought of it that way, it hadn't even crossed her mind to think about the whole thing from Flints, or any pirates point of view before. But then again, she hadn't had time to give much thought to anything else but getting out of the messes she found herself frequently in. If Captain Ludford had surrendered, would she still be on her way to Boston, non the wiser? Would Mccaffer still have a pumping heart beat? Would the cooks face not haunt her, or his blood stain her hands?

Clara had to physically shake her head, sending her curls flying, to bring herself back to the present. She could think that through later, now she had to be on top of herself. Vane was trying to get inside her head, and feeling... Dare she say it, sympathy for him or Flint or any of these people on this island wasn't going to help her leave this room in tact. Get back to topic, and stay there Clara decided.

"It doesn't change that you want me to fuck Flint over. What do you think he will do to me when he finds out?"

Vane waved her worry off with a wave of his hand. Not bothered, not flustered, not nearly as disgruntled as Clara was. She breathed in a deep breath through her nose, steadying her nerves.

"Nothing. He wont risk his crew, or other Captains tempers by killing off someone who decided to go to another ship. As loose as our code is, we still have one."

Vane sent a glance to Rackham, the first one since he had laid eyes on Clara and it somehow managed to settle her when he wasn't directly looking at her, his weighty eyes not baring down on her. With a nod from Rackham, Vane stood from his chair, looming figure staring down at her and Clara wanted him to go back to looking at Rackham. She was so used to going unseen in London, just another person struggling to get by, that to have such a focus, pin point gaze on her, made goose bumps creep down the back of her neck.

"You have until tonight, after the deal goes down, then I want my answer. Join or don't. Think it through Clara, and be smart about it. I won't offer this again."

Clara bit her cheek to stop herself from giving him a sharp retort, something he must have figured out by the upturned twist of his lips. Nodding, Clara pushed out of her seat and towards the door Rackham was guarding, thinking he was letting her leave... Foolishly. For as she took two steps past him, his hand shot out and snagged her shoulder, pulling her back towards him, and with a well aimed twist to her wrist, he had her machete in his hands. Clara swore under her breath as Vane simply threw her only weapon behind him without a care.

"Just because I've given you time, doesn't mean you can leave. You know the seller, you know the deal, I can't have you running off to Flint to spill it can I? You're coming with us."

He really had let her get away with more than she should have last time, or had underestimated her severely. She knew that now by seeing first hand how fast he could move when he wanted to. Her wrist was twisted and the machete behind him and away from both of them before she could fully blink. Today however, he seemed not to be taking chances, even going as far as tapping her boot, the one closest to him, with the tip of his own, smiling when all he hit was ankle.

"Charles, you really can't expect her to-"

"I do, she'll see I'm right in the end, when this deal falls through like I said it would."

A crumb, a little piece of leverage, no matter how disappointingly useless it could turn out to be. Vane was against this deal, Rackham wasn't. It seemed to Clara that Flints ship wasn't the only one with tension. Now was obviously not the time to use it, but later, later it might prove life saving. So she would scurry it away like a squirrel would with its chestnuts for winters oncoming.

Clara smacked his hand away from her shoulder, having to use her full weight behind it to even get the limb to budge, but it was pointless. As soon as the hand was gone from her shoulder, it was wrapped tightly around her bicep, causing Clara to ground her words through her clenched teeth to Vane.

"Don't hold your breath."

"I wont need to when the sun sets and you see I'm right. Face it Clara, I'm your best bet at a life here, not just surviving. Jack, find Bonny, meet us back at the tavern an hour before we leave for the rocks to meet this mystery buyer."

With a sharp tug, Vane and Clara was in movement, pushing past Rackham and through the swinging door Vane had thrown open. When they reached the winding steps, Clara tried to spot Max, but couldn't see the woman anywhere among the vast throng of people blockading her view, and she had to divert her attention back to her feet when she nearly stumbled down the first step of the flaking white stairs.

Her free arm caught her eye, her hand wrapped in bandages more truthfully did. The deal was bound to fall through, she had the goddamned ripped part of it! But then Clara settled, her nerves stopped zapping and her heart beat slowed down. She had a part of the schedule. Vane didn't know that, Flint didn't know that. Silver and Max were the only two who did.

If things went to plan, and Silver hadn't already tried selling his part off already after Vanes appearance earlier that day, then she had something momentous to bargain with, to hold above their heads as they jumped and grappled for it. The small, folded piece of paper shoved into her bandages were her key to... To anything she wanted.

Although Vanes offer was solely self servicing, Clara would admit it was just as tempting. By now, she knew she wasn't going to get off this island, not really sure she wanted to a part from knowing she didn't want anyone lording over her. Vane was also true about Flint, he would expect her to be hurried away and secure in Mirandas and his house. That just didn't sit right with her. But to actually take Vane up on his offer, was that her only option? Her best one?

Claras eyes squeezed shut before opening back up widely as they made it to the last step and into the crowd. She had too many warring thoughts, to many roads she could go down. She needed to take her time, not rush it, plan it out. She had the key, but the sun was sinking lower with every passing second, the clock ticking away her chances. What the hell was she going to do?

NEXT CHAPTER: The deal for the schedule goes down...

A.N: There isn't much to say about this chapter, so I'll keep the note short and simply thank everyone who was lovely enough to leave a review, you guys are why this thing keeps continuing, and I really hope you liked this chapter. And a big thank you to everyone who has favorited, followed or simply kept on reading! So, if you have a spare minute or two, drop a review! It's much appreciated!- GoWithTheFlo20