Chapter Ten

Time Travel Confession

The story's coming to a close in the near future, sadly. My plot bunny is running out of energy. I'm thinking this story will go one or two more chapters, maybe?

Anyway, Santa cookies to reviewers!

That evening, Will moved to a cot on a different side of the ship. I slept with an empty bed on my left. I didn't want to be reminded of the person that occupied it, so I turned my back to it each night, only to be reminded of him more. The woman that slept next to me had long, curly, dark hair, just like his.

It drove me insane. Will hated me for doing the right thing. He refused to speak to me. I knew I wasn't going to be forgiven.

Why did I even tell Will how we had gotten out of prison? I was such an idiot. Will couldn't see that I had slept with Beckett to save us. He saw it as me being unfaithful and the promiscuous girl that I had talked about.

Were something made of glass on board, I would have smashed it against the wall. I was so frustrated at Will for not coming around sooner and seeing my point of view. I was frustrated at the whole situation, and I felt my hate gowing for Mrs. Ashford, the woman I would never see again.

One evening, a few nights after I told Will what had happened, the woman who's bed was next to me – the same girl who never said a thing – finally spoke to me.

"Are you in an argument with him?" she asked.

I don't know what made her finally speak up. She could have been trying to just make conversation with someone who's other half ditched her. She could have been curious and couldn't resist asking. She could have been making up the story of mine and Will's break-up in her head, and now was just going to confirm her story.

It was nighttime when she asked. I had gone to bed, but found myself unable to sleep. I was on my back, looking up at the ceiling. She had gone to bed an hour ago, yet she was awake, just like me.

At first, I didn't realize that she was asking me. After a few moments of silence, I looked at her, only to see that her laying body was turned towards me, her eyes on mine. I rolled over on my side to face her, not quite sure what to say.

"Yeah," I said.

There were a few moments of an awkward silence until she said, "What's his name?"

I had barely spoken in the past few days, and when I had, it wasn't about Will.

"Will," I said.

His name felt familiar to me. It was almost comforting to hear his name, despite our circumstances.

"Ah," she said.

Through her soft voice, I could hear a French accent. It was relaxing and comforting. She didn't remind me of Mrs. Ashford, and all suspicions of a repeat of her disappeared.

"I wondered why he no longer slept near you," she said.

I nodded, remembering the exact reason why he wasn't.

"He just doesn't understand why I did something that I did," I said. "And it bothers me very much that he won't."

I wondered if she was going to ask for details. After I was quiet for a few moments, I guessed not.

"I'm Christine, by the way," I said, introducing myself.

"Helene," she said.

I was quiet, and I felt my eyes close, trying to erase the sudden feeling of absolute loneliness.

"If he is worth keeping, I know you will fight for him," Helene said.

If he is worth keeping, I know you will fight for him.

Helene's words stuck with me. She was right. Will was very much worth fighting for.

I couldn't help but repeating her words when I saw Will on deck one evening, standing at the railing. I knew that I had nothing to lose by going up to him. Even simple conversation would be better than nothing – that was, if I could achieve even that.

An icy cold came over me as I slowly walked up to him. My heart pounded in my chest. I hadn't spoken with him for days. Why was I doing this to myself? He was furious at me. I would become more miserable than before if I allowed myself to talk to him. I didn't want to let myself be hurt again, and I knew the chance I was taking -- I simply didn't know why I was doing it.

I stood next to him at the railing. Out of anxiety, I stood as straight as a pole, one hand on top of the other, my eyes out to the sea. I didn't dare to look at him, the man I loved, and the man who I had hurt the most.

"I know you probably won't ever talk to me again," I said softly. I still couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes.

He was silent for a few moments, and the silence was the most painful thing I ever endured. What he was thinking about, the next spiteful thing he would say, finally understanding the damage I had done... all of that left me with a gaping wound.

"I wouldn't go that far, Christine," he replied.

He would speak to me, but he still hated me. What a lovely combination.

"I didn't sleep with him for shits and giggles," I said. "It's because you're so important to me that I would lose any respect you have for me just so you would live."

I could feel the truth ready to burst out of me. My mouth became dry, and my hands were clammy and almost shaking.

"I love you."

It was nothing like the first time I had said it to Will. I had been scared the first time, and it had slipped out. I was never sure if I had loved him then. Now, there was no doubt in my mind that I loved him. I realized I couldn't live without him, and he accepted my flaws... except one.

He said nothing in response. I longed for him to hold me close, to have him stroke my hair and kiss my forehead. Sadly, I wondered if that would ever happen again.

I closed my eyes. The silence began to literally hurt. It felt like my insides were being torn apart, and my heart was being squeezed by a vice. It was a different kind of pain that I had never felt before. I wished I had never explored that level of heartache.

Will sighed in defeat. He was as sick of the entire situation as I was, but now I was making the situation more complicated.

"This never would have happened if it wasn't for Mrs. Ashford," he said.

It was like a weight was lifted off of chest. Will was finally beginning to see the side I had been trying to make for a week! I was suddenly hopeful – he would take me back, and all would be fine again.

"Why did she have you arrested for treason?" he asked. "Having you falsely arrested as a pirate would have made things so much less complicated."

I didn't want to ask what he fully meant by the latter, but I had a good idea.

That was when my blood ran cold. I couldn't tell him why Mrs. Ashford accused me of treason. He would think I was crazy, and the tiny chance that I did have with him would now be gone.

Then so be it, I told myself.

"You're going to think I'm crazy," I said.

"I doubt it," he said.

Doubt this, I thought, preparing myself.

That was the night I told Will everything: what I was in Jamaica for originally; Adam, the man I had been with the night of my disappearance; waking up in a different time era above Mrs. Ashford's Bakery and agreeing to work with her; and, of course, the damning piece of evidence – the clutch with my passport.

All Will could do was look at me, shocked and in disbelief. The silence was harsh, and his brown eyes never left me.

"You've gone mad," he said softly.

I probably had. I just didn't want to admit it.

"It must make sense somehow, though," I said. "The way I speak, my accent, how I never really said where I was from, how I told you I came from a much looser place..."

I thought about taking Will's hand, but decided against it. Instead, I settled for meeting his eyes.

"You have to believe me," I said. "I have nothing to gain by lying to you. We're messed up enough as it is."

I didn't know if he believed me.

For the first time I relaxed my posture, utterly defeated, and realizing that we very well could be over.