Lowlands away

Mary and Edward sat on the bulwark of the Captain Kidd,waiting.

It was still early, but the day was shaping up to exceptionally warm. Already, the air was hot and heavy and the humidity clung to their skin. Mary whipped a bead of sweat rolling down her forehead and closed her eyes to welcome the ocean breeze's lazy caress on her face, even if it did little to make the heat more tolerable. Thank god we are leaving today, she thought. She was accustomed to the Caribbean's weather, but this was simply ridiculous. Seven days in the cool ocean air was exactly what she needed.

They had planned to leave for Nassau that very day and everything was set for their departure. Only one thing remained; Tatcher had yet to recuperate his boat, held hostage by the Cuban authorities.

"Do you think he'll be much longer?" asked Edward, breaking the silence.

Mary shrugged, her eyes still closed. "Hard to say." Tatcher had been in the port customs' building for already an hour and he had yet to give any sign of life. Not that she expected any different. The Cuban officials were hardly known for their expediency.

Mary absentmindedly rearranged the red scarf she wore on her head. Even with her eyes close, she could feel Edward's gaze on her, following her every movement.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing, really," he tried to argue, before correcting himself. "The scarf…I like it. It suits you."

Mary smiled, but didn't say anything, unsure what words would have escaped her lips had she opened her mouth to speak.

From afar, Edward saw the customs office door flung open and Tatcher stormed out.

"We might have a problem," he said. Mary opened her eyes with a sigh to look in Tatcher's direction. Even from where they were, she could see the impressive shade of scarlet covering his face and the angry glint in his eyes. Oh no. Who has he been yelling at, now? "And he's not alone." Edward was right. A young man stuffed in a customs' uniform too big for him was escorting Tatcher. The poor boy was white as a sheet and and his eyes were wide with fear. He looked like he was seriously questioning his choice of career right about now.

"What happened?" she asked Tatcher as he reached the Captain Kidd.

"They're bringing her over," answered Tatcher. His tone was surprisingly cheerful and Mary couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not. Then again, it had always been hard to tell with him. "They insisted someone from their office assisted to our departure." He gave the young man a friendly slap on the back, making him flinch away. "I think they really want me gone."

"So, there is no problem?"

"No."

Mary wasn't convinced. "Then, why does the lad look like he's either about to start crying, shit his pants or both?"

"Oh, that…" said Tatcher.

Edward rolled his eyes, holding back a smile. "There it is."

"They originally told me it would be two days more to process the paper work and all that shit. So I just decided to… motivate them a bit."

"And by that he means going batshit on them until they were ready to do anything just to get him out of there."

Tatcher grinned widely. "Very few people have the guts to stand up to an angry nutcase."

Mary rolled her eyes in an unsuccessful attempt to look annoyed. It was good to see how little he'd change. Good old Thatch.

"Well if you're done making low level employee wet themselves," interrupted Edward. "I think your girl is almost at the pier."

He was right. The Drunken Skeleton bulky silhouette was slowly making her way toward them. She was an impressive one all right with her black hull and her red sails clashing against the blue sky. Big and flashy yet practical. In other words, perfectly suited for her owner. Still, not quite as elegant as mine still, thought Mary with no small amount of pride. Not that Tatcher would ever agree with her on that. Like all old sailor, he had a soft spot forhis boat. It was obvious by the almost amorous look in his eyes as he watched her dock and by the way he patted the hull affectionately as if greeting an old friend. How he must have missed his old lady.

Always one for theatrics, he jumps on board and announced loudly, "Well lads… and lass, we sail to Nassau."

Standing at the stern of the Drunken Skeleton, Edward watched Cuba slowly disappearing in the distance. Mary was kneeling beside him, checking the towing cables and her Captain Kidd bobbed gently in their trails.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, he'll be fine like this," replied Mary. "If the sea gets too rough or if there is a delicate passage, get back to my boat and unhook the cables." Mary stood up. "It was getting kinda lonely out there… plus, I was getting sick of stopping for you to catch up with me," she added. Her voice grew louder at the last words, making sure the jab didn't go amiss to the owner of the ship.

Tatcher shot her an outraged look from the helm. "How about some respect, lass, unless you want to be swimming to Nassau."

Edward shook his head with a smile. He pulled two beers from the icebox Tatcher always kept on the deck and offered one to Mary. His fingers brushed against hers. A split second to long for it to be completely accidental. She pretended not to notice and he pretended he hadn't done it.

Edward forced a smile and sat on the cooler, searching for something to break the silence, "I meant to ask you earlier," he began. "Why do you refer to your boat as a he?"

She glanced up to him and took a sip from the bottle. "Why would I do any different?"

"Aren't ships traditionally she?"

"Only, because traditionally sailing is a boy's thing," she countered with a smile. "You greedy bastards always liked to keep to fun stuff to yourselves."

They were interrupted by Tatcher, calling from the helm. "Would one of you go tighten the jib sheet or are you two set on letting me do all the work while you sit there drinking?" Edward handed his beer to Mary and stood up with the most formal "Aye, sir!" he could muster.

As he walked to the bow, Mary went to sit by Tatcher who greeted her with a small nod and a smile. "Good to see you decided to sail the rest of the way with us." He glanced at Edward then back to Mary. "I know he's happy about it." Mary didn't reply. She simply took another sip and swallowed quietly. "He's different with you around. Even stops having bad dreams." Tatcher paused, debating how much should be said right now. "Did you know about it?"

Mary nodded and tucked a small braid in her headband. "He mentioned it, said he doesn't remember what they're about."

"Maybe it's best he doesn't…" said Tatcher with a sad smile.

"Why are you saying that?"

"Whatever wakes him up screaming is buried deep. God knows, the damages it could do if it came out."

"You think it's a repressed memory." The words had escaped her lips. More a statement, than an actual question.

Tatcher shrugged. "He was removed from his parents care as a toddler and moved from foster home to foster home more times than he can count after that. It's not a figure of speech, he really lost track. With a childhood like that… I'd be surprised if he didn't have a few repressed memories."

Mary looked sadly at Edward who was busy adjusting one of the downhaul and turned back to Tatcher. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"In case he didn't," replied Tatcher. Mary frowned. Way to stay vague, Thatch.

"Wait. Is this supposed to be a stay-away-from-my boy speech?"

"No it's be-careful-and-don't-get-fooled-by-the-overconfident-act speech."

Mary looked up to him and smiled fondly. Now, more than ever, she thought of him as one of the wisest man she'd ever meet. You simply needed to look past his well-crafted mask to see it. She looked away, turning her gaze to Edward who was walking back toward them with a content smile on his face. Mary felt her heart swell in her chest. He'd always taken such pride and joy in every small task on the ship, even after he got the Jackdaw. That hadn't changed.

"He's lucky you found him," she said silently adding: thank you for being there when I wasn't.

"I'm sorry it didn't go that way for you."

Mary looked at Tatcher, surprised. "… I didn't say-"

"You didn't have to," he replied.

She shrugged and looked away. "It's all right. I found my way out. Eventually."

"…and you're not alone anymore, lassy."

"No," she smiled. "I'm not."

"So what's the plan once we reach Nassau," asked Mary as they sat down at the Marina's terrace. With their destination only two days away, the three of them had decided to stop in one of the small island on their way to stretch their legs and grab a bit.

Edward frowned. Hadn't they discussed that already? "We agreed we'd start at the Captain Bates museum. See if they have any documents tying him to the Governor."

"Yes, but how? Because just checking it out isn't a plan; it's a really vague idea."

"Can't you… find a way in?" asked Tatcher to Mary.

"Nope," she said, with an exaggerated popping sound at the letter 'p'. She pulled a brochure of the museum and handed it to Tatcher.

"Where did you get that?"

"Tourism desk inside." She simply answers before pointing at the picture of the building on top of the brochure. "Do you see that?"

"No." replied the two men with one voice.

"Filled with tourists, metal bars at every windows even on the second floors and this. See there? Security Cameras. Three of them in this shot alone. Do you see the little red light on it? It means those aren't just for show." She ran her fingers through her hair, toying with one of her braids. "Sorry, Tatcher. " He groaned and tossed the brochure back on the table, unable to hide his disappointment.

Edward, on the other hand, simply frowned as he studied Mary's face. The amount of detail she'd got from that single picture was impressive. It also wasn't the type of details you notice unless you were used to getting in and out of places without being seen. Whatever Mary James past had been like, he suspected it was a lot more exciting than he knew.

"Looks to me like they use bells to signal trouble. See there? We'll want to disable those before pushing too far. With so many men about we can't rely on stealth alone… So, I'll do what I can to distract them giving you a chance to cut them down. Ready?"

"I'll be damned! Ed Tatcher in the flesh!"

The voice rang loud and clear over the mumbles of the voices inside Edward's head. His heart still thumping painfully against his ribs, Edward turned around to see who it was. The newcomer was non other than Sully, Tatcher's old business partner. Edward had only met him a few times, but he was well acquainted with his reputation. Just like Tatcher, Sully was an important figure of the treasure hunter scene. So was his protege.

"Well, well. God damned Sullivan! What are you doing here?" asked Tatcher, rising to greet his old friend.

"Working on a contract. Cohibe?"

Tatcher took the offered cigar and eagerly light it before sitting back down. "Does that mean you'll pay back some of the money you owe me?"

"No offence Ed," he said, grabbing a chair. "But I owe money to quite a few people scarier than you."

Tatcher shook his head with a sigh. Sully had a habit of borrowing money to the worst people imaginable. "Sully you remember Edward."

Edward with a forced smiled. "Good to see you again mate."

"And this is-"

"Mary James," finished Sully. "How you doing kid?"

Mary shook his hand with a smile. "Not bad."

Edward sat back silently as the other chatted. He nodded occasionally and laughed when the others were, but in truth he wasn't listening to a word of what they were saying. The voices were back. He hadn't heard anything unusual since leaving Havana, but now here it was again. Senseless whispers echoing in his head. Voices disturbing his waking thoughts, fading out reality. No, he thought. Not voices. Voice. This time there had only been one voice and the strangest thing was that he was sure he'd heard it somewhere before. But where? A dream maybe. Who cares where you've heard it! You are hearing things that aren't there. That can mean only one thing, that you've gone fucking insane.

"What are you doing with these?" asked Sully. "Planning a field trip?"

Edward looked at Sully not quite sure what he'd been asked. The man was looking at him holding out a piece of paper. Oh, the brochures. Right. "You know the museum?"

Sully nodded. "I know the curator actually." Edward's eyes widen slightly as Sully's words hit him. And, he wasn't the only one.

"Do you think we could meet with him?" asked Tatcher.

"Since when do you have an interest in meeting museum geeks, Ed?"

"Since, they might have information I need to finish a job."

Sully nodded and pulled a cigar from his shirt's pocket. "All right," he said once that was done. "If I do this, what do I get?"

"How about we'll consider it paying back a small portion of the huge amount you still owe me."

The man gave Tatcher an amused glance and took a long puff from his cigar. "Always a pleasure to do business with you. Just give me a week and I'll make it happened."

It was late and Edward should have been asleep. But tonight, not even Mary's presence at his side could ease his mind. His migraine was back and he could feel his heart pounding so fast it felt it might burst. Deep breaths, he reminded himself. Eyes open wide, he laid still listening rhythmic sound of the waves breaking against the hull and of Mary's soft breath. At least someone is getting a decent night of sleep. He turned on his side to face her. Watching at her was better than staring at the ceiling.

Without thinking, he reached out to push aside the locks falling in front of her eyes. His fingers brushed against her forehead. It was a light touch, barely the shadow of a caress, but it sent his head spinning. Something was wrong. It wasn't the sudden dizziness or elevation of his already rapidly thumping pulse. Both of these things could have been explained by the… whatever it was he felt for Mary. No it was something else. Her skin felt glacial on his fingers. He looked at her face, debating on whether he should wake her up, but what he saw wasn't Mary's sleeping face. He saw her laying downs, her body limp and her skin drained of all colours. The worst was her eyes. They were open staring into nothingness. They're usually sparkling brown already growing duller. Edward blinked in horror, fighting the scream that threaten to escape his throat. One blink and it was gone. Mary was stirring slightly in her sleep in front of him It wasn't real. Just like the voices. It was nothing, but a figment of his imagination. But that didn't stop it from feeling real. Nor did it stop his limbs from shaking and bile from rising to his lips.

He ran to the deck as fast as he could and leaned over the bulwark, spilling the content of his stomach in the sea. The panic clouding his thoughts began to dissipate, blown away by sea air. Still bent over the railing, he took a few deep breaths and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Somewhere behind him he felt a gentle hand pressing on his shoulder.

"Are you all right?" asked Mary, as she rubbed his back gently. "Another bad dream?"

"No." Edward wasn't sure why he'd just lied. It would have been so much easier. "I wasn't asleep."

"Did you hear something or see something?"

"Both," said Edward fighting a new wave of nausea crashing over him. "I heard voices a few times… but this time I saw something."

"What did you see?"

The image of the corpse flashed back before his eyes forcing Edward to bend over the railing once more. He expected Mary to step away for a moment, but she didn't. She stayed right there, her hand still resting between his shoulder blades. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But can you tell me something, is this new?"

He nodded resting his face in the palm of his hands. "I think it started the day we meet."

"Maybe I should tell Tatcher…"

"No." His tone tolerated no contradiction. "He worries enough as it is."

"Fine, I won't tell him." Mary crossed her arms visibly displease with that particular request. "But I have one condition and it's not negotiable. You need to see a psychiatrist."

"I told you, I've seen one already. Hell, I've had-"

"Well that was before you started to hallucinate, wasn't it."

"Mary, I'll be fine."

"You are not fine," she hissed. "And let's face it you can't hide from the dreams in my bed forever."

"That's only what I'd have you think," said Edward in an attempt to ease the tension. "It's actually part of my long-con to get into your knickers'."

She stared him down without so much as the ghost of a smile on her lips. "Is the stress induced vomiting part of it too?"

"Of course. It's shows vulnerability. Makes it's more likely you'll want to comfort me later."

"Well, you still have some 'vulnerability' on your chin," she said as she pulled a tissue from the pocket of her pyjama pants and handed it to him.

Edward wiped his face and sighted. She wasn't budging an inch.

"Where will we even find the time to shop for a doctor in Nassau?"

"Even if we did find one it could take months to get an appointment."

A self-satisfied smile stretched on her lips. "Luckily for you I know someone who runs a mental health clinic in Nassau. He's good; he'll help you."

"And I suppose there is no way I'm getting out of it," he said, defeated

"No." The answer was absolute and Edward had no doubt she'd find a way to enforce it one way or another. "Deal?" she asked extending her hand.

"Deal."

A/N

The Drunken Skeleton: The name of Tatcher's ship is actually a reference to Blackbeard's flag. Unlike what most people think, there wasn't just one pirate flag. It varied from captain to captain. For instance Calico had the flag depicting a two cutlass crossed beneath a skull. Thatch went for something a tad more… eccentric I wanna say. His ship sailed under the banner of a drunk skeleton wearing a crown and holding a spear, because he's that fucking awesome.

Jib: A triangular sail at the front of the ship, generally attached between the head of the main mast and the bowsprit

Jib sheet: one of the two ropes by which the jib can be trimmed

Downhaul: any rope that can be used to bring down a sail.

Also congrats to those of you who spotted the gratuitous uncharted cameo.