Title: Chasing the Storm
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Thanks to LizfromItaly and ShunKickShunKers for the reviews! I seriously do appreciate them!
This chapter is a little darker toward the end, mainly for thoughts of suicide. So, read with caution. :)
10—
At one of the wooden tables, Kris sat; both of her hands wrapped around an empty pewter mug that had once been filled with fresh water, as she observed her surroundings with a soft frown. The crew mess had never been anything spectacular to look at, especially with its endless walls and support beams made of wood overhead, but it was quiet. She needed to be away from the crew—from Jane—from everything, if only for a few hours to think things through. Although, she knew that she would eventually be interrupted, mainly because somebody had to do the first mate duties.
Currently though, the peace and quiet was helping her keep her sanity.
The entire incident with Jane had raised so many questions, emotions and thoughts; everything continued to race through her mind, but she knew the deed had been done and there was absolutely nothing either one of them could do about it. She had accepted that rather quickly, even though it had taken many deep breaths and a punch to the nose to do.
She and Jane had managed to skillfully avoid the subject, aside from a few well-placed barbs and snide comments (mostly from her) and that had been just fine with her. What could they possibly even need to talk about? Kris still wanted to punch him in the face and if the subject was brought back up, they'd probably both have to answer why it had happened. The why didn't matter to her and she knew if she were to ever confide in Lisbon about the entire situation—the first mate wouldn't care too much about the why either. Lisbon would just have both of their heads.
To her though, what had happened with Jane was the least of her troubles. She had more concerns about where they were currently headed, given the fact that her parents and the Bertram's had always remained good friends. She was absolutely positive that her father, by now, had written Governor Bertram about the argument they had all shared. She was also beyond convinced that Bertram knew about her mother's pregnancy.
She sighed, before she fiddled with her mug. Her mother's pregnancy. The idea, even weeks later, still repulsed her and made her stomach work itself into tight knots; her father had forced this pregnancy on her mother and that just made her want to disembowel him. He would probably never understand how much it hurt her, but the fact he thought it was so easy to replace her, absolutely killed her inside. Kris had never expected him to understand it though, but as much as she hated to admit it to herself, it also hurt that she would never get to know her unborn sibling. However, much like the vile incident with Jane, the deed had been done and there was nothing she could do about it.
She continued to stare down at the empty mug in her hands; the shiny mug, now fingerprinted from her fiddling, reminded her of how empty she felt inside. The weighing knowledge that Lisbon wasn't there to talk about everything currently going on, was slowly eating her up inside; she had no one to confide in or trust about anything. Although, she thought bitterly, the lack of trusting people just seems to be a reoccurring theme in my life.
And it was.
Every time something good or kind had entered into her life, her father, Governor Bertram or Red John snatched it away from her.
Going to Governor's Island, though, was her main concern; if Bertram had heard about what happened with her father, getting the information about Red John wouldn't be an easy task. Kris tried to ignore that the man already resented her for a long list of things, although if it didn't work out, she knew that she always had one other person to turn to for help.
However, she wanted to keep that information to herself. Kris wanted to give the entire crew a chance and she knew that if Jane was going to go with them, which he probably would, they would have a better shot of getting something out of the Governor. As much as she hated to admit it, Jane had an uncanny skill to annoy people until they told the truth. That skill, no doubts about it, annoyed her to no end, but she had seen time and time again just how useful it was. She only hoped he knew when to draw the line, but because it was Jane, him knowing when to stop seemed highly unlikely.
Kris would have continued to wallow in her own dark and depressing thoughts, when she heard the sound of light footsteps behind her and she silently groaned. She had known that the silence was too good to be true. The footsteps grew louder and louder, and she refused to turn to face whoever was going to approach her, as she hoped the person would take the hint and leave her alone for anything of no importance. She said nothing, as she stared down at her mug and continued to frown. Why can't the world just give me two moments of peace? She asked herself quietly.
She tilted her head up slightly to find Rigsby sitting across from her, which mildly confused her. Out of all the people she had expected to find before her, Rigsby hadn't been her first guess. She and Rigsby, of course, had their issues. He had always been about honor and loyalty, while she had always been more interested in the bare facts and getting straight to the truth. She had learned a long time ago, especially because of her father being who he was, that loyalty meant absolutely nothing. She had also learned that nobody would be "loyal" to you, without having the ultimate price to pay. If her father had taught her anything useful, especially while growing up, it was that nothing—not even the love from your own family—came for free. It was a hard truth for most people to swallow, but in her own experience, being alone was the best thing that could ever happen to you. Within her mind, relying on others was absolutely pointless, because others always managed to let you down somehow.
Unintentional or not, she never wanted to question why she had put so much faith into a person.
Rigsby grunted, which caught her attention. Quickly, she glanced up at him and threw him a blank stare. Much to her chagrin, he stared right back, until she finally said something. "As much as I was enjoying this little staring contest we had going on, is there something wrong? Or something you needed?" Rigsby shook his head and she rolled her eyes in irritation. Why did he feel the need to come interrupt her peace, if he had absolutely nothing to say? It infuriated her.
She pushed herself up from the table, when Rigsby finally spoke. "Kris." With the shake of her head, she eased herself back into her spot and blinked.
"Rigsby," she said with a slight smirk, as she glanced at him. Rigsby looked as if he was having trouble forming the words, which confused her even more. Why had he even come to her, if he couldn't spit the words out? She opened her mouth to address him again, when he interrupted her.
"I'm not sure if I'm crossing some unspoken boundary between us," Rigsby continued with a frown, "so, I'm not entirely too sure if I should even ask."
Kris gave a slight grimace and glanced back at her mug; she had hoped he wouldn't bring it up again, but she should have guessed that he'd hold her to her word. Regardless of her mixed feelings on the subject, she answered him. "How will you know if you've crossed that boundary, unless you bring it up?" He didn't say anything, and even if it had been a rhetorical question, she knew the conversation would get nowhere unless he spoke his mind.
"Before I even ask or push my luck," he started, "I want to apologize to you." He just liked confusing her, didn't he? Rigsby had never been one to swallow his pride and apologize, as he was like Jane in that way. Rigsby could never be wrong, but what had brought the confusion on was the fact that she had no idea what he was apologizing for.
She sighed in frustration. "Not that I don't appreciate a good apology, Rigsby, because I really do. But, I'm not too sure on why you're apologizing."
"For what happened a few weeks ago," he answered, quite hastily. She blinked in response. Jane's asshole tendencies weren't his fault, as the man couldn't control the pirate captain. He had just been the unlucky one assigned to go with her and if it hadn't been for Jane and his lack of common sense, they could have avoided the entire situation.
"Rigsby," she began, "what happened wasn't your fault. If it was anyone's fault…" she trailed off and she assumed that he knew exactly how she would end that sentence. If he couldn't figure that out, then Rigsby was more clueless than she had thought he was.
She waited for him to argue with her. Kris knew that Jane and Rigsby had their various differences and that Jane was (still) not too pleased that Rigsby hadn't killed O'Laughlin on the spot. However, for some reason or another, Rigsby had always respected him. Even at times when she didn't think he deserved it; she was sure that Rigsby had shown Jane some form of silent disrespect. Rigsby, in her own opinion, was the type of person who said one thing—but ultimately said another with his face.
"About that," he stated, while she geared herself up for an argument with him, "don't blame the Captain too much." She scoffed at his statement. Don't blame the Captain? He was the reason that everything had gone to hell in the first place. He was also the reason why they were even having that conversation at the moment, but because it was rude to interrupt, she let him continue on. "It wasn't exactly his idea to go to Manse Island." Kris gave Rigsby a blank stare. What planet had Rigsby been living on for the past few weeks? Of course, it was all Jane's fault. She didn't respond, but she nodded for him to continue on. To her, at the present moment, it only sounded like a bunch of nonsense. Rigsby continued forth. "It was Cho." Kris blinked. Cho? She thought about that for a moment. Cho had never been one to intentionally cause problems and he wasn't like Jane, who could figure out your entire past by just looking at you. If Cho had suggested going to Manse Island, he had a valid reason at the time. Unfortunately for all of them, the idea hadn't worked out so well.
But, even if she couldn't blame Jane for making them sail to Manse Island, she could blame him for sending her onto the island. She was absolutely positive that with all the time she had been spending with him, much to her dismay that he had already figured out her entire past. She could also guess, given her reaction to the island when he had finally told her, that he had noticed she had been both nervous and uncomfortable, and had sent her there just to make matters worse. So, in the end, no matter who had gotten the idea to go to the island, Jane had caused all of their problems.
She finally gave a response. "Nothing I or anyone else can do about it now, Rigsby. The damage has been done, and I'm sure Cho isn't one to be intentionally spiteful. Unlike others I could name right about now." Rigsby stared at her, an expression of concern across his features. Why he cared all of a sudden had her all confused. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the concern, because she did, but nobody on the crew had ever cared about her before.
She saw Rigsby about to speak again, which put an end to her thoughts. "You told me on the walk to your parents' house; you had left them." She took in a deep breath, as she closed her eyes. She knew where he was heading. She knew what he was going to ask, yet she allowed him to continue on with his question. "My question is, why?"
There was a whole long list of reasons on why she had left her parents. If it wasn't the constant beating or screaming matches, it was because of Carter or about how her parents and Bertram had single-handedly managed to pull her away from James; the only decent and honest man she had ever known. And if it wasn't that, it was the standards of their society—how women had to dress, talk, eat, sit, stand, and she betted, sleep a certain way. She absolutely loathed the fact that she had never been allowed to speak her mind—never been allowed to have a voice of any kind and by living with her parents, she would have eventually become like her mother—silent and obedient. She had never wanted that, no matter how much she may have hated leaving her mother.
All-in-all, there were a lot of things going against her parents. There were, she was sure, just as many reasons for her to hate them, as they hated her. However, she had to think about the answer that she would give Rigsby. Kris didn't want him to know everything, but she wanted him to know just enough that it would make him stop asking.
She sighed lowly and answered him. "I left them, because if you didn't notice, my father kind of enjoys corporal punishment." She bit her bottom lip, hoping that she could shake the memories from her horrible childhood. Also, she hoped it would push back the stinging memories of his belt hitting her back, over and over again. With persistence, however, she continued on. "I rebelled against him and he didn't like that. Like me, he hated not being the one in control over a situation and so he thought the way to handle me, was to hit me. He still thinks that now, apparently." That had been hard for her to say, especially given the fact that she had just admitted out loud to being like her father and the idea that she could even be a little like him, made him her not want to live anymore. Any resemblance; physical or otherwise, to him was something she automatically hated about herself.
She went on. "I act the way I do, because of what has happened to me, in my past. I don't trust anyone and I prefer to be alone." She sighed and stopped there; she didn't want to say anything else. Kris waited for him to respond, as she watched him glance down at his hands, which she understood. Everything she was saying wasn't easy to hear, especially from someone you didn't even necessarily like in the first place.
After a few moments, he looked up at her to respond. "Listen," he said with a comforting tone, "I'm sorry I gave you such a hard time for a while. I didn't know…" He trailed off and she nodded in understanding. How could anyone possibly guess what had happened to her? No one had asked and she wasn't just going to tell anybody; the only one she had told was Lisbon, and that was because Lisbon had expressed concern for her the moment they had met.
"Don't worry about it, Rigsby. I can't say I blame you. I'm not the easiest person to know or to like, for that matter." She gave him a small smile and he nodded in her direction. It seemed that both of them had reached an unspoken agreement between them now, basically saying that she and Rigsby were cordial now. Not that it meant she would confide in Rigsby, but at least he would be more willing to look at certain situations from her point of view.
She was glad, after nearly eleven months of being onboard, that she finally had another ally.
What did I do wrong? Lisbon thought, as she blinked into the darkness; her back ached, as she was propped against the wall, while her blanket remained draped over her chilled legs. When had it all gone wrong? She tried to blink back the wetness in her eyes, but she found it to be almost impossible. She felt hopeless and lost; she was beyond exhausted, angry, upset and above all else, hurt, that everybody on the Scarlet Oasis had seemingly tossed her aside for someone newer.
But when had it gotten that bad? What had she done to make Jane not trust her? She had been patient with him. She had been forgiving. She had stuck by his side, even though he could be ruthless. She had given him almost everything he could ask for, but yet he still chose Saffron. Of course, she knew why. The reason was painfully obvious; the two were together in love and Saffron enjoyed spreading her legs, every single time he opened his mouth. She, on the other hand, wasn't a whore. She had standards. She had morals. Saffron did not. Saffron only cared for herself and when the selfish bitch eventually decided to cut her ties with the crew, Jane would be on his hands and knees begging for somebody to help him.
Well, that somebody wouldn't be her.
Patrick Jane, the world's largest asshole, had just screwed himself over. He had just thrown eight years of friendship down the drain, because he had decided that his sexual drive was more important than her rescue. Sure, Saffron was attractive—O'Laughlin had said as much—she was a spitfire, she had a musical-like laugh, she had long brunette hair, and she stood with confidence. The confidence, which Lisbon had once thought she possessed, had apparently not been enough to impress her former captain. She had always thought that she had given off a commanding presence when she had been aboard the Scarlet Oasis. She thought that Jane—her captain, who she had genuinely liked—had admired that "commanding presence", but apparently, Saffron had just been better; O'Laughlin had even implied that. The bitch apparently had a presence that impressed Jane, but what had she done to make her presence more noticeable? What had she done to get Jane's attention? Once again, the haunting question lingered at the forefront of her mind: what had Saffron done in the time that she's been on the crew, which she, herself, had not been able to accomplish in eight years?
Had it been because of her mistake with O'Laughlin? Did making one lapse in judgment mark her for death? She hadn't meant for O'Laughlin to hurt them all; she knew they needed somebody else on the crew and Craig O'Laughlin had seemed like the perfect fit. She had thought he and Jane would get along fine, and unfortunately, she had been right. They had gotten along so well that they were able to conspire and mutiny against her. Although, she really couldn't blame O'Laughlin; he had been manipulated to go along with Jane's plot and she couldn't deny that Jane had a way with persuading others to do his bidding. Hell, she thought, did I do something to deserve being shot? It wasn't a question she wanted to ask herself, but it was a question that just wouldn't leave her alone. How did anybody comprehend with the fact that their best friend, all because of another woman, wanted them dead? It made absolutely no sense to her, but Jane must have seen some logic in the plan.
On top of that, she wondered about what she had done to make the crew call her all those ugly names. Like with Jane, she had been patient with them. She had taken the time to listen to all their concerns and complaints, even if half were about Jane. She had done almost everything for them, so they could continue to live somewhat happily on the Scarlet Oasis without many problems. Had Saffron poisoned them against her? Had the bitch somehow learned how to manipulate people and twist emotions, like her jackass of a boyfriend had known how to do? Had they ever really cared about her at all? Was she really worthless and useless like everybody said? If so, why did O'Laughlin keep her alive? She honestly couldn't be of any worth to anybody, especially if her own crew didn't even want her around. O'Laughlin though, who had come back to her after telling her the truth about Jane and Saffron, had said she wasn't a bitch and that the crew merely couldn't appreciate what they had.
But, what did they have?
They had an ex-first mate, who could hardly move—let alone eat—without risking the consequences from her body. They had an ex-first mate, who couldn't even follow her Captain's orders to stay on the ship. They had an ex-first mate, who couldn't help further Jane's need for vengeance, which probably upset the entire crew. Saffron, to him however, seemed to have the capability to further his quest for vengeance. In the end, he must have felt that Saffron could accomplish the impossible faster, than she ever could have.
If she had the strength, she would have laughed bitterly. By kidnapping her, the Red Rum hadn't really gotten anything out of the deal. She apparently knew nothing about Jane. She apparently knew nothing about Saffron. She also apparently knew nothing about Cho, Rigsby or Mashburn. What use could she really be to them? A plaything? Torturing her for information about the Scarlet Oasis would lead them nowhere and if Jane didn't want her for her body, why would anybody else? She was undesirable. Unwanted. Unloved. O'Laughlin should have killed me, she thought, I'm much better dead than alive.
Lisbon's lips curled into a smile; the very thought of dying sent her into a happier place. If she was dead, nothing anybody did to her would matter. If she was dead, none of their words would bother her. She'd be dead. She'd be unfeeling. She'd be free from Jane, the crew, and Saffron too. Something, which she had come to realize whilst slowly rotting away, that she had desperately wanted above all else.
She had thought about asking O'Laughlin to shoot her. She had thought about asking Jacobs to break her neck. She had thought about doing something against pirate code, so Red John would feel the need to kill her himself. But why? Her death at their hands wouldn't be dishonorable enoughfor the Scarlet Oasis; it would be a travesty and she didn't want Patrick Jane ever finding her body. She wanted her body hacked up into the smallest pieces and tossed into the ocean, so nobody had the chance of sending her body back. So, she never had to step foot again (alive or dead) onto the ship, which had apparently wronged her.
Her dishonorable death, she ignored the churn of her stomach at the displeasing thought, would make everybody—including Jane and Saffron, happy. She didn't want them happy, but she couldn't stand the image of them together; the image, which burned brightly behind her closed eyelids and haunted her every living memory.
Lisbon tried to clear her mind. She traced the ground near her. Her fingers worked of their own accord, as they skimmed over the dirt floor and took notice of every uneven patch of dirt. Everybody wanted her dead. Everybody thought she was a bitch. Everybody thought she was worthless. Everybody wanted her dead. She felt a painful tightening in her throat. Why wouldn't they just give her something to kill herself with? If the Red Rum's intention was to kill her off, they should have left her something to…
Her fingers hit something jagged and rough; a rock.
She managed to weakly grin. O'Laughlin had left her something. He didn't want her suffering, like Jane and Saffron did. He wanted her to be free from all the pain and the suffering and she knew how to be free; with the rock, it would only take a few minutes.
In the darkness, she picked the rock up from the ground and tightened her fist around it; the sharp edges dug into her skin, but throughout the sharp twinges of pain she felt from her palm, she had never been happier. Jane would have Saffron, O'Laughlin and Red John would have her dead body, and she would be free. Completely free and safe and up with her mother in Heaven.
But the question wasn't when she wanted to die. The question was how she wanted to die.
Once upon a time, she had thought about using the blanket to help. If she had lifted it to her mouth, pressed it against her lips and held it there, she knew she would suffocate. Her lips would turn blue. She'd be dead within minutes and everything would be over.
Not being able to breath, however, truly scared her. Breathing had been the only constant in her life; the only thing she was able to control anymore, and if it was taken away from her—even willingly, for a few minutes—she'd completely lose herself. Insanity was something she couldn't afford. Insanity was something she didn't want. Insanity was something she was beginning to spiral into and death was her only way out.
Out of everything O'Laughlin had said; Lisbon knew he had a point. Saffron was of a healthy mental state, something Jane could latch onto. She, on the other hand, wasn't and probably never would be.
At the present time though, the rock was her only ally and best friend. The jagged rock, which she still held in her hand, was sharp enough to cut through skin and leave ruby droplets behind. The jagged rock, which she could swallow, was large enough to make her choke. The jagged rock, which she pressed against her wrist, would be the perfect instrument to end her pitiful life with.
She could have muttered a prayer; religious or not, she knew more prayers than most pirates. She could have asked for forgiveness, for guidance, for understanding from a much higher power, but all her thoughts—dark, turbulent, and deadly—focused on how beautiful and blissful the end could truly be.
Jane's face came into her mind; concerned and smiling. She pressed the rock harder against her wrist.
Jane's soft voice whispered into her ear; soft and comforting—don't do this, Lisbon. You're better than this, Lisbon. But, she wasn't much better than that. She deserved to die the most painful (and dishonorable) death and nobody, not even Patrick Jane, would stop her from accomplishing her last dying wish.
"What are you doing?" O'Laughlin's voice startled her from her thoughts. She hadn't even heard his footsteps let alone noticed the light from the candle, which shone brightly upon the walls. The rock in her hand touched the skin of her wrist, as O'Laughlin unlocked the cell door and hurried inside to take the material away from her. Lisbon wanted to fight him for it, but he was stronger, and he smacked the rock out of her hand. She heard it scatter across the floor and she wanted to cry, but all of her energy left her.
"I'm giving you all what you want." Lisbon responded to him, quietly. She heard O'Laughlin sigh, as he lowered himself down next to her.
"You shouldn't do this." O'Laughlin replied. "You're smarter than this. I know you are."
Lisbon scoffed. "Yeah, right." If she had been smarter, the Scarlet Oasis would have wanted her around. If she had been smarter, Jane would have wanted her instead of Saffron. She glanced down at her legs, when O'Laughlin touched her wrist. "I'm apparently useless and worthless. Why would anybody want me around?"
O'Laughlin leveled her with a stare. "You're not useless."
"Jane would argue with you." Lisbon answered.
"Do I look like Patrick?" O'Laughlin voiced and Lisbon shook her head. "Have I ever said that you're worthless or useless? No, I haven't. You're not any of those things." Lisbon glanced up at him. "You dying would be pointless. What would it achieve? You'd be letting Jane and Saffron win, because they want you dead."
"I'm giving them what they want." Lisbon repeated.
"Why do that though," O'Laughlin asked, "when you can fight back?" It was a valid question, but then again, what did he know? O'Laughlin was smart, but he had never been in a situation like this. O'Laughlin had never been tortured or forced into something he didn't want. O'Laughlin had only been manipulated and manipulation didn't cause suicide, did it? O'Laughlin placed his thumb against her wrist. "My Captain gave me that advice when I had lost my fiancée to your Captain." Lisbon glanced up to stare at O'Laughlin in surprise. "Oh, I forgot. You don't know."
"What don't I know?" Lisbon asked and O'Laughlin frowned.
"Years ago, your Captain seduced my fiancée, Grace." O'Laughlin spoke, softly. "She was a beautiful woman, inside and out. I loved her and I thought she loved me." O'Laughlin gave a dark chuckle and Lisbon blinked. "I had been out sailing with another crew and had come home after a long day, only to find my fiancée in bed with another man." O'Laughlin shook his head. "You have no idea how much that killed me. I gave her the world, and she decided that she wanted Patrick Jane, who I knew would eventually leave her." Lisbon couldn't argue with that. Jane had left his wife and child, who he had never loved. Jane had left her, who he honestly didn't care about either. "I gave Grace the choice between having either myself or Patrick, and she chose him. She left me for him, even though I warned her against it." She saw him look down at the dirt covered floor in despair. Something tragic must have happened in order for him to still feel that way about her.
She blinked again and asked, "What happened?"
O'Laughlin glanced back up at her. "Two years ago, I heard that she had killed herself. Patrick had left her for Kristina, and she committed suicide." O'Laughlin's voice was a whisper and she found herself wanting to comfort him. Saffron had not only managed to hurt her, but she had also hurt O'Laughlin as well. O'Laughlin, who had been nothing but kind to her, hadn't deserved that kind of pain.
"Why didn't you go after him?" Lisbon asked, out of curiosity. O'Laughlin blinked and she back peddled. What if he didn't want to answer? What if he thought her question was disrespectful? O'Laughlin was all about respect. "You don't have to answer…"
"I'm not going to hurt you." O'Laughlin muttered in response, before he continued on. "I never took revenge, because my Captain found me. He told me, "good things come to those who wait", and you," O'Laughlin gave her a small smile, "are definitely good. I'm sorry I never took revenge on your Captain…"
"He's not my captain." Lisbon interrupted him and O'Laughlin raised his eyebrows. "I used to have one, but I don't anymore. I just…" she trailed off. How could she even begin to explain to O'Laughlin that the Scarlet Oasis had been her only home for eight years, and now, she had absolutely nothing to her name? He had an entire crew. He had a Captain. He had a place to sleep. She just had a cell.
"I understand." O'Laughlin answered her. "I was on my own for a while. I had no captain, until Captain Red John found me. He saved me and he wants to save you too." Lisbon raised her eyebrow. The Captain of the Red Rum wanted her? Why? It made absolutely no sense. O'Laughlin chuckled softly, which confused her even more. "I had the same expression on my face when I was told. I couldn't understand why such a great man wanted to save me from ending my life, but he did and I couldn't be happier for it." Lisbon frowned. O'Laughlin was a good man, and Red John sounded much better than Jane—but what could she do? Before she could think anymore, O'Laughlin interrupted her thoughts. "You don't have to answer right away, but please, let me take you out of here. My Captain doesn't enjoy how you're being treated and neither do I."
Lisbon's eyes grew wide. O'Laughlin was going to let her leave? He was going to take her from the cell? Her heart skipped a beat. She wasn't going to be punished anymore. She wasn't going to be force-fed. She wasn't going to be beaten anymore.
"If you come with me," O'Laughlin continued, "I will protect you. Nobody will harm you, as they will know you are mine." She moved her lips into a smile. Somebody cared about her. Somebody wanted her around. She knew O'Laughlin wouldn't screw her over like Jane had.
Without hesitation, she answered back, "I want to come."
Lisbon watched O'Laughlin's lips quirk into a smile, which made her feel a sudden tightness in her chest. O'Laughlin wouldn't hurt her, but it didn't mean that he wouldn't take her to Jacobs. Maybe she shouldn't have accepted his offer. Saying no meant she could stay forever in her cell and she could continue through with her actions to end her life. However, before she could say another word to him, he had his hands under her body. The warmth of his hands felt so good against her body, as he cradled her to his chest and smiled down at her. Against his body, she felt safe and comforted and she didn't want the feeling to end, as she tried to burrow herself into his chest.
"Nobody is around," O'Laughlin soothed in a soft voice, "you'll be okay." Lisbon made no movement to nod or to answer him, as she felt herself being moved from the cell. She heard O'Laughlin's heartbeat into her ear, which immediately lulled her into a state of comfort. It had been so long since the heat of a body had been pressed against hers and she never wanted the feeling to fade. "We're going outside now."
Lisbon still didn't respond, even as she felt the cool air hit the side of her face. It had also been so long since she had been outside that she almost wanted to remove her head from O'Laughlin's chest, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She felt him move along at a steady pace, until she heard something open and close.
"You're inside now." O'Laughlin's running commentary wasn't exactly doing anything for her, but his voice was still a calming thing. "I'm going to sit you down on the bed." Lisbon pulled her head away his chest to glance around, although she couldn't see anything. The room was bathed in total darkness, until she felt herself being put down on something soft and the room lit up.
Her muscles relaxed and her eyes closed. She was warm. She was calm. She was content. O'Laughlin's voice lulled her into a sleepy state, when she felt his hand on her head. "Do you need anything?"
Her voice, weak and soft, responded, "You." She didn't want him to leave her, not after he had just rescued her from her own personal hell hole and after he had given her some hope back. O'Laughlin said nothing, but his touch left her and she cringed. Was he going to leave her again? She didn't want to be left alone, because her thoughts weren't safe. Her thoughts weren't what O'Laughlin would want for her, and she wanted him to stay with her—to protect her—which meant that she would do anything to make that happen.
Lisbon felt the bed move slightly and when she opened her eyes, she found herself eye-to-eye with O'Laughlin. She smiled briefly, as he took her hand in his and said nothing.
Silence, Lisbon had found, was one of the worst things in the world and the longer O'Laughlin held her hand and said nothing, the more she wanted to break the silence. She moved to open her mouth, still with a frown, when O'Laughlin's voice broke through the silence.
"Is there something on your mind?" Lisbon eyed him in surprise. He couldn't have known her thoughts, could he have? The expression across his face, a wrinkled brow and a pained gaze, made her worry. Had she done something wrong? "You can speak truthfully here. Nobody is going to hurt you." Lisbon bit her lip and tried to calm her racing heartbeat, which pounded loudly in her ears. She wanted to trust him, but something was holding her back. "If you are truthful about your feelings, it may make you feel better. I am here to listen to you and keep your secrets." Lisbon eyed O'Laughlin, looking for any signs of deception, but she couldn't find one. He was actually being serious and he wasn't going to use her feelings against her like Jane always had.
Before she could change her mind, she hesitantly spoke. "I don't want anyone, especially you, to judge me." She did fear him judging her, but she still feared him hurting her. O'Laughlin had access to every member on the crew, and if he felt desired to so, he could request Jacobs to show up and hurt her. Her body trembled at the thought of being hit again, having the leather bite into old wounds and having Jacobs leer at her. O'Laughlin squeezed her hand and she tried to speak, but she couldn't.
"I'm not going to judge you." O'Laughlin responded, softly. "I couldn't do that to you. I want to help you. I want to make things better for you." Lisbon blinked and she was suddenly able to speak again.
"I don't see how anyone could really understand." She let out a series of soft breaths; her mouth dry, while her heart still raced. She wanted to know exactly how O'Laughlin could help her, when he hadn't been the one living in fear. Or when he hadn't been the one suffering in silence. O'Laughlin was a victim of Jane, who never lifted one hand toward him. She was a victim of many things, and none of those things quite equaled out to Jane. O'Laughlin blinked at her and she squeezed her eyes shut; if he was going to hit her, she had no desire to see it coming.
"I'm not going to hit you," O'Laughlin said, his voice was still soft. "I know you've been hurt, but I am here to listen to you." He squeezed her hand again. "That's why I stayed."
Lisbon opened her eyes to stare at him again. Could she trust him with her thoughts? Could she trust him with her secrets? O'Laughlin had brought her to his bedroom, when he could have just left her to die, which meant she felt the need to pay him back for his kindness.
"Is it about Jane?" O'Laughlin continued and Lisbon blinked. It was always about Jane; her thoughts, her reactions, her habits. Jane's face haunted her everywhere she went and she couldn't escape from him; she couldn't run from his thoughts about her or his thoughts about Saffron. Slowly, she nodded her head. "What about him?"
The words tumbled from her mouth without thought. "Just memories of what he's done." She kept her eyes on O'Laughlin, waiting for any sign of anger or hated to cross his face, but none came. Only gentle understanding. "How it's all come down to this." O'Laughlin said nothing and she continued on. "The weeks before I was brought onto this ship with you just keep replaying over and over in my mind."
"Is there something specific that you are thinking of?" O'Laughlin responded and she slowly nodded. "Do you want to talk about?" Lisbon stared into O'Laughlin's clear blue eyes, as he continued to smile at her. She didn't want to talk about anything Scarlet Oasis related, but he was willing to listen, something that she had never had before. Jane brushed her off for his whore. Saffron was too busy backstabbing her. Cho, Rigsby and Mashburn were too busy following the queen bitch, who seemed to have everybody—but her—wrapped around her little finger.
"Yes." Lisbon said, quietly, before she inhaled sharply and began to speak. "I joined the Scarlet Oasis eight years ago. I was naïve and believed the lies that Jane fed me, when he had saved me from Walter Mashburn." O'Laughlin said nothing again, and she continued on. "I had been sitting at the Salty Ana, drinking, to forget about my troubles, when I had been approached by Walter Mashburn. He hit on me, said I was the most beautiful thing that he had ever seen, before he had tried to take me back to his place." Lisbon felt her cheeks warm; she still remembered Walter's hand on the small of her back, as he had tried to push her out of the warm establishment and into the alleyway. "I didn't want to go and I kicked his ass, which he didn't appreciate. However, Patrick Jane had appreciated the sight. He laughed, found the entire thing amusing, and made a comment about how he was starting up his own pirate crew." Lisbon fell silent. How naïve she had been to believe that Jane would be any different from any other man in her life? She had just left her fiancé, lost her father, and her brothers scorned her, only for Jane to step into her life and provide something of thrill.
"What happened?" O'Laughlin asked.
"I joined without hesitation. I wanted a new life. I wanted to get away, and Jane provided me with the means to do so. Walter bought us a ship, even though I hadn't wanted him to come, and Jane had immediately made me his first mate." Lisbon answered, as her lips moved into a small smile. Jane had been so different back then, especially without the poison of Saffron slowly killing him. "For the first few months, he didn't tell us what we were doing. He was my captain and I trusted him, however that all changed…"
"What changed?"
"He did." Lisbon stated, quietly. "Red John reemerged and he went off the deep end. Jane could navigate our ship, not well, but just enough to get us around and in his Red John haze, he almost destroyed the ship." Lisbon lost her smile; if she hadn't gotten to the helm in time, they all would have found themselves over a waterfall. Jane had literally driven them to the end of the world and had nearly killed them all. "I soon found out that my captain had been keeping a secret; his family had been killed by Red John and he was on the hunt for them." Lisbon paused to take a deep breath, although talking hurt her throat; she felt she needed to tell the rest of this story. "I hadn't known what to say, but he reassured me that everything would be fine. I wished I hadn't listened to him, because he turned out to be a violent drunk. He turned out to be a womanizing swine. He turned out to be just like my father, somebody I couldn't stand in the end."
O'Laughlin squeezed her hand again. "You're free from them now. They can no longer hurt you."
Lisbon shook her head. "I'm never free." She closed her eyes and took another deep breath, before she continued on. "The day you saved me, I was going to quit the Scarlet Oasis. I was going to let Saffron become first mate, what an idiot I was, and I was going to leave the crew forever. I was going to learn to live on my own again, but Jane wouldn't let me. Jane had his claws dug so deeply into me that I couldn't leave. I couldn't escape him or anybody else on this ship. Now, I understand why."
"Why?" O'Laughlin questioned and she opened her eyes to stare at him. "Why couldn't you leave him? He wasn't tying you to the ship. He wasn't blackmailing you, was he?"
"I couldn't leave because of the crew. I couldn't leave because of Saffron." Lisbon responded with a bitter laugh. "If I had known then what I know now, I would have left in a heartbeat. The crew wasn't loyal to me; they only let me think that. Saffron only wanted Jane. I was their useless little toy, and I played right into their hands. Jane told me so too." O'Laughlin remained quiet. "Nights before our dock on Howl Island; Jane and I fought. He had been drunk, like always. The idiot couldn't keep away from the bottle and I had been trying to convince him to stop drinking. It was an endless battle, but somebody had to try. Rigsby and Cho wouldn't, as they didn't want to get involved. Walter had no say in Jane's affairs and Saffron only encouraged his habit." Lisbon felt outraged that Saffron had continued to force Jane into drinking; the bitch had probably known that drinking gave him a temper, but she had only wanted Jane's drinking to force her away. "The drinking wasn't the start of the conversation; it was only the byproduct of the conversation." O'Laughlin raised his eyebrow and she went on to explain, before he could say anything. "Jane had jumped down my throat about Saffron's lack of respect toward him, again. I had warned her days previous that Jane was the Captain and he deserved respect, even though that's a total lie. Jane doesn't deserve any respect; he deserves to rot in hell."
"I can make that happen, my dear." O'Laughlin muttered to her and she smiled. If he could he made that happen, she would be free. She wouldn't feel the need to end her life or become something she wasn't; she would be able to do anything she wanted. I could even kill Saffron, Lisbon thought with twisted smile. "I can also kill Kristina for you. Would you like that?"
Lisbon eagerly nodded. "They need to pay for what they've done." She saw the smile across O'Laughlin's face and her heart swelled. She liked when he was happy, because it made her happy. His happiness filled her with a certain amount of warmth, something that she hadn't felt in years.
"What did he do to you?" O'Laughlin asked and Lisbon blinked. It all depended on what occasion he was asking about. "You look confused. Has he hurt you more than once?"
Lisbon bitterly laughed again. "Jane enjoyed using his fists and hands. He rarely used his sword to teach a lesson, but when he did, it left a powerful message behind." She had come close to one of those messages before, but he had never seriously hurt her. He had been rough with her, but it was something she had just come to accept. "The night we fought about Saffron, he hit me. He taunted me, said I was nothing to anybody and that I should just leave." Lisbon stared into O'Laughlin's eyes. "How does anybody deal with being told that? Jane was my best friend and he hurt me. He used me and he'll never understand how much it hurts. How much I wanted to end my life, because of how he paraded me around. I hate him. I hate them all." O'Laughlin nodded.
"You were treated horribly." O'Laughlin remarked. "There is no excuse for that behavior. You were just trying to help him and he hurt you. You deserve to be treated better than that, which is why we are trying to help you." Lisbon nodded again. "We do these things to make you understand that there is more to life than being Patrick's minion." I was a minion? Lisbon questioned silently. It had never actually occurred to her that Jane's behavior had been his way of making her conform to his silly beliefs; that she was nothing, Saffron was everything, and he was never wrong.
But it backfired; Jane had probably never expected O'Laughlin to save her. He had probably never expected for Captain Red John to be on her side. The Red Rum wasn't made of enemies, the Scarlet Oasis was. Nobody on the Red Rum wanted her dead, everybody on the Scarlet Oasis did. And if it weren't for Craig O'Laughlin, Saffron and Jane would have killed her by now; they would have ran their blades through her chest and laughed, as she bled across the wooden floor of the main deck.
She'd die alone, all because she had tried to help them.
O'Laughlin offered her hand another friendly squeeze. "You did the right thing, but Patrick didn't appreciate you or it. He's a selfish man, who only cared about his sexual prowess and who saw you as his conquest."
Lisbon couldn't help but agree. She had almost been Jane's conquest. "I agree." She felt her throat constrict and her eyes prick with tears; Jane had been absolutely horrible to her and she had continued to stay? How dumb had she been? "I was a fool to believe he cared about me. I was a fool to trust Saffron. I…" she trailed off. The past eight years had been a total lie and she had fallen for it—for Jane's lies, for Saffron's friendship, for the crew's concern—when really, they had just wanted her dead and out of their lives. Lisbon blinked back the tears. Could she trust anybody? Did anybody actually care about her? O'Laughlin squeezed her hand again and through her blurry vision, she smiled at him. Of course, it had completely slipped her mind; she did have somebody who she could trust. She had Craig O'Laughlin, who wouldn't lie to her. Who wouldn't use her. Who wouldn't see her as a conquest. "I'm sorry for taking up your time; I'm not worth it, but thank you for listening to me. Thank you for saving me." O'Laughlin removed his hand from hers and brought it toward her face, where she flinched in response. Lisbon saw the brief frown cross his face, before he stroked her cheek. She did trust him, but she was still afraid he was going to punish her.
"It was no problem," O'Laughlin responded, as he continued to stroke her cheek, "you are worth my time. I do all of this for you, because I love you."