Chapter 10: Confessions

"And that's my cue to leave," the ghost called Sparrow winked at me, "Back later, love!"

"¡No vuelvas!" Salazar growled at the other ghost, but Sparrow had already gone.

I shook my head in exasperation. "He said he knew how to break your Curse. Why didn't you let him tell us?"

Salazar glared at me.

"How are you able to see him?" He repeated.

"Look, I didn't even know he was a ghost, until he told me!"

Frustrated, Salazar pushed past my hands, moving in again until his chest was touching mine. "Why can you see him, when not even that French girl, who says she has magic, can see him?"

"I don't know..."

"Who are you? Why are you here in another's body?"

"I – I don't know!" I started to back away from the intense emotions pouring out of him like a wave – stronger even than they had been on the deck, when he'd been threatening Scarfield with death – and an icy shiver of fear rippled up my spine at the expressions I saw on his face.

Suddenly his free hand gripped the back of my neck, his sword arm slid around my waist and he pulled me in close. I sucked in a harsh breath at the scorching heat that shot out from his hand, and he drew in a rasping breath through parted lips as we touched skin to skin again.

"You will tell me everything now, Señorita," he said huskily. "I will not take any more refusals!"

"Alright!" I shoved against his chest with my hands, needing some space between us, panic threatening to overwhelm me. "Alright! Just let me go!"

He squeezed the base of my skull. "No! You will tell me now!"

"What do you want to know?" It was so hard to breathe, pressed up this close to him; I struggled to keep from slipping into a faint. "Please, I'll tell you, just what do you –"

"Your name."

I blinked. The abruptness of his response somehow cut through the panic, and I managed to draw a deep, calming breath in.

"I want your name first, Señorita – your real name. And I'll know if you're lying!"

Breathing out a sigh, I told him.

He frowned. "That is – an unusual name."

"I know."

He looked down into my face, and I could see he was trying to figure out if I was making it up or not.

"It doesn't sound… English. What does it mean?"

"It's Russian." I said flatly. "It's a term of endearment. It means 'my lamb'."

He stared. And then, inexplicably, began to chuckle. "Like a lamb to the slaughter, eh?"

I didn't have anything to say to that, seeing how I'd volunteered myself in place of Scarfield's execution, so instead I remained quiet, taking in another steadying breath, glad that the panic seemed to have abated. The last thing I wanted was to faint away in the Capitán's arms, like in some insipid romance novel.

"Hmmm," he murmured, still studying me. "It's a pretty name. Though I think, I prefer Athena for you the most." He tilted his head, before adding, "Sí, as much as it amused me to call you my spoils of war –"

"Your what?" My mouth dropped open.

"Edelina means 'spoils of war'," he chuckled lowly. "Appropriate. Seeing how you are my prize from battle..."

I was speechless.

His fingers spread up through my hair, loosening it a little from Eleni's tight braid. His eyes changed hue, becoming like a rich ochre, shot through with coffee; the dark rumble of his voice reverberated in the space between us, as he actually purred something short and low in Spanish. I swallowed nervously at the hot slide of his fingers burning against my scalp: and all of it together implausibly suggested...

I shook my head slightly, absolutely confused. I couldn't believe this. Not a single bit of it. That a fierce Spanish Capitán under a dark magical Curse would be trying to – to... seduce? I shook my head again. It was so extremely unlikely, it had to be something else. I didn't know what he was trying to achieve, whether he was trying to distract me or provoke me, but whatever his reason, I wasn't buying it.

He tilted his head, watching me, the corner of his mouth lifting a little in mockery, and when he spoke his voice was even more suggestive than before. "Mine... to do whatever I want with..."

Okay, that was provoking. My hand involuntarily twitched against his chest as I actually considered slapping him.

Before I remembered what such an action might cost the others.

"But I really do like Athena best," he glanced down at my hand with amusement. "Suits you better."

His thumb was stroking upwards along the skin behind my ear, shooting hot waves intermittently over my scalp.

"Right, well, thank you, but I'd rather not be called that," I turned my head a little, trying to pull away from his touch, "If it's all the same to you."

His fist clenched in my hair, forcing me to look him in the eye; he actually seemed offended and upset that I had been dismissive. "You object to the name of a goddess?"

I couldn't help wrinkling my nose in dislike. "Since most of them didn't have much in the way of self-control or, you know, morality – yeah, no thanks."

He suddenly huffed a small laugh.

"Athena was a virgin goddess," he relaxed his grip again. "The goddess of wisdom, courage and justice. And her spear was specially made for her, to be her protection."

"Well, I'm not a goddess," I couldn't help glancing at where I'd left my bar, still lying on the desk, hopelessly out of reach. "And that rusty bar isn't a spear –"

"No, it is not." His eyes flared again. "But I notice you don't correct me when I allude to you being a virgin…?"

"Wow, none of your business!" I said hotly.

"So you have a lover?" He seemed genuinely interested.

"No!" I retorted, "And… and it's still none of your business whether I have one or – or a hundred!"

He chuckled again softly. "If you had a hundred, you would have to be a goddess to keep up with them all."

An unpleasant flush prickled over my skin, and the panic returned doubly, even worse than when Lieutenant Scarfield started talking about how much he admired me, thinking I was his fiancée.

"Okay, can we not talk about – lovers or – or –" I almost bit my tongue when he suddenly leant in closer, his floating hair skimming the sides of my face.

"Nervous, Athena?" His hand trailed from the back of my neck to slide down to my shoulder. "Very strange. You talk so eloquently about justice and mercy with a man's life in the balance before you… and yet the thought of a lover… makes you blush and stutter?"

The slow way his palm – still burning hot – moved over my skin made me shiver.

"I don't – stutter!" I tried to ignore the sensations rippling through me at the feel of his hand. "Actually, I'm just not interested. In lovers – or love."

He tilted his head in that analytical way I was coming to recognise, studying me like I was an unusual creature he'd never seen before.

I couldn't keep looking back. I had to drop my gaze, his focus on me was so unsettling.

"So. Your name is Russian," he changed the subject brusquely and leaned back, though he didn't completely release his hold on me. "Are you Russian?"

I let out the breath I didn't even realise I'd been holding, relieved at the change of subject. "I'm not."

"Then, your parents are Russian?"

I shook my head. "They're – well, I never knew my real parents. All I've been able to discover is that my ancestors came from a lot of different countries."

He looked intrigued. "Which countries?"

"On my mother's side, mainly France."

"And your father's side?" he asked.

"Spain."

He smiled a little at that. "So you have some of my country's blood in you."

"From a long time ago."

"And you speak only English?"

"And French. But only a little."

He paused. "Yet your English is different. You don't sound – like any of the English I've met."

How on earth did I explain this?

"What country were you born in?" he insisted when I was silent.

I knew I had to tell him. I knew it was inevitable. But as I stared up into his eyes – eyes that changed from fire to amber and back to fire again – I thought that perhaps, with some luck, he might not even believe me. If I went ahead and told him I was from the future, he might just think I was lying. Though, if he was convinced I was lying, it would probably end with my blood on the floorboards...

"Let's just say that… right now, my country isn't exactly a … nation …" I took a deep breath, and plunged, praying he would just call me a liar, fling me back into the brig, and be done with me. "In this century."

"In this century?" His eyes widened. "You're telling me… you're not from this time?"

"Yes."

"You're from the past?"

"… no. Not the past."

I held my breath, waiting to see how he'd react to that.

"But…" His lips parted in shock. "¿Estás diciendo que eres del futuro?"

"I'm sorry?"

But he didn't explain. Instead, Salazar's pained breathing punctuated the silence of the cabin, his eyes flicking quickly over my face.

"You aren't lying…" he stated, much to my surprise.

But the seriousness of his expression, and his steely grip on my shoulder made me swallow convulsively.

"You are – from the future?"

I grimaced. My hope that he'd simply think I was lying had been dashed. "Unfortunately."

He stared again. And then he took me by the arm, and pulled me to the dining table. Jerking one chair out to face him, he pushed me down into it, the folds of my dress bunching up under me as he impetuously forced me to sit.

"You will answer every question," he stood over me. "You will tell me everything I want to know about your time, or you know what the consequences will be."

My stomach turned at his words, and that awful sinking feeling came back, as I realised that the future I'd come from was definitely never going to be the same again now.

"How many years from now have you come?" he demanded.

"I don't even know what year I'm in!"

"1751," he snapped. "Now what year did you come from?"

"Honestly…" I nervously tried to buy time by shifting in my seat, smoothing my skirts out more comfortably from under me, "I – I haven't even been born yet."

He tapped his sword on the wooden floorboards. "How many years!"

I lowered my eyes in defeat. "I was born two hundred and fifty years from now. Give or take."

"Two hundred and fifty years…" His boots shifted closer. "And the world, it still exists?"

I frowned up at him. "Why wouldn't it?"

He examined me in silence, before saying, "Because of the nature of men."

"What do you mean?"

"Men haven't destroyed the world yet?"

"No," I smiled wryly. "Though quite a few have tried."

"You mean wars?"

"Yes. And – other things."

"Such as?"

"Just – things done for greed. For money."

"Tell me."

I hesitated again.

How could I even start to explain the way humans try to destroy the world in the next three hundred years to him, when half of it was with things – like nuclear weapons and biological warfare – which he would never have even heard of. Hell, they'd probably barely just invented guns in this century.

"No, no, no, Athena," he growled at my hesitation, his sword twisting impatiently in his hand. "You have to explain more. What things?"

"Just… things that have been done, that've had a permanent effect on the world. Forests that won't grow back. Water that isn't drinkable anymore. Whole species that've died out. Some places are so bad, no one can live in them, because of what was done there."

"Where has this happened?"

"A lot of places," I floundered, trying not to give specifics. "Places where wars have poisoned the air and the ground, so if anyone tries to live there, they get very sick and die."

"Does it happen in Spain?" He asked quietly.

"No," I reassured him hurriedly. "I mean, I don't know much about Spain, but I don't think it had any of those things happen. But I – I really don't know much about Spanish history..."

He paced away suddenly towards the windows and stood there, looking out through the glass, at the moon sinking over the sea.

I watched him, aware of the deep chill that had fallen in the cabin, but at a loss to understand exactly what had caused it.

"Why not?" There was something distinctly dangerous in the calm quality of his voice. "Tell me, Athena. Why don't you know about my country?"

"I'm sorry – we just... we just weren't taught about it very much. In school."

He spun around to face me. "And why is that?"

I froze at the look on his face. "Uh…"

"Why don't they teach you about Spain, in your future schools?"

He looked so… distraught, I tried to think of something comforting to say.

"Well, we are taught, a little, but it's more general historical knowledge –"

"No, no need to try and make it better for me," he smiled humourlessly. "I can already guess. Spain is… not important anymore, hmm?"

"I wouldn't say that –"

He started to stalk back towards me. "Not important enough to know about. Isn't that true?"

"No, that's not what –"

"Then what do you know of my country?" His expression was fierce. "Por favor, but tell me that we are at least free of British interference!"

"Um, yes." I swallowed. "I mean, a lot of countries have kind of broken away from… 'British interference'…"

I hoped he'd ask nothing more. I knew it would pain him to hear even the very little I did know: that Spain would soon start to lose its American colonies, and continue to struggle economically for centuries from now. And mentioning the Spanish civil war that had happened, before World War II, with the horrible atrocities committed in his own country, by his own people against one another, was not going to go down well either.

He stood over me again, staring down at me, a whirlwind of emotions crossing his face so fast I could barely interpret what he was thinking. And then without warning, he placed his sword on the table.

"You are still being very vague," he said softly. "You know things, and you are not telling me."

Turning the chair next to mine to face me, he sat so that his knees boxed me in.

"Let me tell you a story, Athena. And perhaps, afterwards, you can reward me with a story."

He leant forward.

"My grandfather was born in Valencia. He was still a boy, when there was a plague. They blamed the English, said that somehow they had brought rats that carried the disease. A lot of people died. The water became contaminated, no one brought food into the city. My grandfather, he and his parents tried to get away, to move to where we had relatives, in Cadiz. But by then it was too late. My grandfather was the only one who survived."

"I'm sorry," I looked down at my hands in my lap. "That's awful."

He blinked. "¿Que?"

"I'm sorry he lost everyone." I risked a glance up at him. He was utterly still, and I couldn't tell if it was because he was surprised I would be sorry, or offended. On impulse, I decided not to wait to find out, and keep him talking.

"Was he very young when it happened?"

"Sí…" He nodded. "It… made him a hard man."

"I know it's – not going to change anything," I shook my head. "But where I come from, there's medicines they've made, that have eliminated a lot of the diseases people used to have."

"That is a good thing," he frowned. "And yet, you give me the impression that there are also a lot of things that are not good in the future."

"No. There's not."

"Hmmm," he look at me calculatedly. "But let me continue my story, Athena. You will see the purpose soon."

"My grandfather wanted our family to be great," he went on. "He believed in Spain. He became a Capitán of his own ship in the Armada, and never lost his faith. In spite of – our King, in spite of our losses, in spite of the way the British tried to interfere with who succeeded on the throne, in spite of everything he himself had suffered – my grandfather believed that we could be a great and powerful country." His eyes flared red. "But then he was murdered."

"What?" My mouth dropped open in shock.

"Pirates murdered him." Salazar leant back in his chair. "And I decided that if I could make one difference in this world, it would be this: that I would not leave this world until there were no more pirates left. I would destroy every last one of them. That was my purpose."

I looked at him. At the way he was. And I felt sorry for him. To want justice for his grandfather so much, only to end up under a curse… it wasn't fair.

"So. What is your purpose, Athena?" he asked.

I stared, trying to understand his question. "What – what do you mean?"

"In your life, back home. You are not happy, I think, unless you are doing something…" he searched my face. "For others."

"I – I was. Trying to, anyway. I was studying so that I could get a job that would – help other people. But – I never finished."

"What stopped you?"

There were so many glib answers I had at my disposal – so many people who'd already asked me the same question – that I settled for the most innocuous.

"I just decided not to do it anymore."

But Capitán Salazar's shrewd gaze missed nothing.

"What stopped you?" he repeated.

"I made a mistake."

He tilted his head. " What mistake?"

I'd never talked about it before. Not really. But I knew the Capitán wouldn't stop asking until I'd told him the truth.

"I –" I shrugged. "I'd planned my life. I had it all worked out, and then things changed. I - met someone. The cliché. I thought I was in love. I became so wrapped up in the idea of living a life with him, that I put everything else on hold. I thought he was everything I wanted."

"And he hurt you." He was strangely concerned.

"He – lied to me. Made me believe he was this amazingly romantic hero, that he wanted to marry me, that he would give everything up for me. And it was all a lie. I went to visit him one day, a surprise visit, and he was with another woman. An older woman than me." I gave him a self-deprecating smile. "Another cliché. The stupid, naive girl with no experience, being dumped by an arrogant bastard because he wanted the sexier, smarter, more worldly woman. I guess they suited eachother."

"So... was he your lover?"

His voice was surprisingly gentle; and it threw me, because no one had ever asked me before. Not like that.

I found myself telling him candidly, "Not a lover. It never got that far. I was too shy, and he'd convinced me he was happy to take it slow. Said he didn't mind I had no experience. But he was lying. Fortunately, I found out just how much of a liar he was before it was too late. I had a chance to do something with my life, and I... I kind of threw it away. For him. For a lie. I lost my chance. And... I didn't... I don't have the – the same desire to start all over again, with what I wanted to do. But at least, I wasn't too late to stop myself from getting more hurt over him."

But I was too late, I couldn't help thinking silently. Because I'd allowed myself to want him. To believe his lies. To love him.

"You are reluctant to tell me. Because it still hurts." He nodded, watching me carefully.

I looked away. "It's life. Life hurts. People can't be trusted. You can understand them, but you can never trust them. Not really."

He absorbed this in silence.

"Perhaps one day..." He said softly, and then he stopped.

I looked back at him, and it seemed like he would say more, but then he leant back against his chair.

"But I know, Athena," he was shrewd again, "Why you are afraid of telling me more about the future of my country. You think it would be wrong. You think you'd be telling me things I'm not meant to know. And yet," he leant forward again. "Have you considered, that this, here and now, is how you can make a difference? How you can help others? You may think you have lost one chance before, but you don't have to lose this one."

I shook my head.

"Capitán, I don't know if telling you even what I already have so far is a good thing! I don't really know how this magic, this time travel stuff, works. I don't even really know why I was the one who was dragged here." I shook my head as he started to open his mouth to speak. "I'm sorry, I know you want me to tell you more about Spain, I know that, but –"

"I want you to tell me what went wrong!" He said fiercely. "Why Spain is not the great country my grandfather wanted it to be! Why Spain is not being taught to children everywhere, as the great country it was supposed to be! You can change that. You can help change Spain's future!"

"But what if that's not how it works!" I argued, disturbed at the direction he was going in. "I could tell you some of the things I remember happening, and maybe, you might avoid some things. But that doesn't necessarily make the future better for Spain! In fact, it might make it worse. You'd be interfering with things that are beyond your control. And – and anything that you do, means I won't be able to return to the same life I knew."

He snorted. "You wish to return? Even though that man hurt you?"

"There's more to my life than that idiot!" I grimaced. "I have people I consider family, I have friends, so yes I do want to go back!"

He tilted his head. "But how will you do so?"

"Eleni had a spell. She knows something about how to get me back."

"Sí," he looked incredulous. "Because she has magic, you think she'll return you to your own body?"

"Well, what exactly did Eleni tell you?" I asked. "About me, I mean."

"That you are not in your own body. That the real Lady Stanhope tried to do magic, and it failed."

"And did she add that it was because Lady Stanhope was defending herself?" I raised an eyebrow. "Against her own maid? Because she caught Eleni trying to cast a love spell?"

"Of course," Capitán Salazar seemed to have already comprehended what had taken me much longer to realise. "Because she is in love with your Lieutenant."

I sighed. "He's not my –"

"But," Salazar waved his hand, cutting me off. "The real mystery is, why this magic Lady Stanhope used, chose you. Why it pulled you, out of all the people in the world, out of all the people who have ever lived, from the future to here and now. Because I think it is not an accident. I think you are here to change things."

"No!" I blurted, alarmed. "Absolutely not, I'm not –"

"Sí!" He was adamant. "I think you are here to stop bad things from happening. To change the future. Make things better."

"Okay, sorry, but that's…" I faltered, as his words sank in. Could it really be true? But then I thought of every time travel theory ever, and shook my head firmly. "No. No, that's bullshit!"

He cocked his head.

"Bullshit?" He started to chuckle. "How very Spanish."

"Yeah, yeah, very funny. But me being here is – is because of a stupid random magical accident! Eleni said Lady Stanhope had magic of her own. It was just a random thing! She used her magic to deflect Eleni's attack, and called out for a protector…"

I stopped.

He smiled. "And here she is. The Protector."

"But that makes no sense –"

"No?" He raised his eyebrows. "You think the magic made a mistake when it chose you?"

"I'm not…" I looked at him, and saw he was more amused than ever. "That's just ridiculous! I'm not some stupid 'Chosen One', I don't have a lightning bolt scar on my head –"

"¿Que?" He made a face. "Why would you have a lightning bolt scar on your head?"

"Look," I sighed, "Magic didn't choose me. It makes no sense. There's nothing special about me –"

"You threatened me," he interrupted. "Have you forgotten? You threatened me, with a fistful of mud, just to save a life. The way you looked at me, when you first saw me – no one has ever had the courage to look at me the way you did. You cared for someone you barely knew, because he was injured. You had every chance to escape and save yourself, but you stay and try to steal the Sword of Triton so that – again – you can save someone else."

He reached forward, resting his grey hand over mine in my lap, and instantly my skin was inflamed by his touch.

"Every time we touch, it's like fire. You see the Sparrow when the others can't. Almost every single thing I've seen you do, has been to protect someone else," he said quietly. "So answer me. Do you really think the magic made a mistake?"

SPANISH TRANSLATIONS:

¡No vuelvas! - Don't come back!

¿Estás diciendo que eres del futuro? - You're from the future?

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Some creative leeway in this chapter with Capitán Salazar's personal history. I am ignoring any of the PotC books/canon in regards to Salazar's family history, save the most basic facts (that his father and grandfather were in the Spanish Armada before him, and died at the hands of pirates), and creating the rest myself.

Athena is only partially correct in assuming guns had been barely invented in the time period of this story. The earliest guns were invented late 1300s -1400s; however the flintlock gun, such as we see used in the PotC universe, was only invented around the 1630s. So the guns in this time period had only been in use for a little over a hundred years. Gun design wouldn't significantly change again until the 1800s.

Salazar makes reference specifically to the plague that struck Spain from 1676–1685 when he retells the story of his grandfather.

The King that Salazar hesitates on is King Charles II. Under his reign, Spain was declared bankrupt twice, from the almost constant wars that drained its economy, and is now best remembered for his physical disabilities, and the war for his throne that followed his death.

The War of the Spanish Succession (1701–1714) was a European conflict triggered by the death of the childless Charles II of Spain in November 1700. The Spanish people wanted the Duke of Anjou, Philip V, but other countries, notably England and France, used the political turmoil caused by this succession to attack Spain and its territories.

England (in particular) was afraid that Philip V, who was also in line for the French throne, might reasonably rule both countries. The combined powers and military strength of both France and Spain was extremely threatening for England, and from Salazar's point of view, the English monarchy sanctioned a lot of shady stuff (like financing pirates to attack Spanish colonies and Spanish-governed islands in the caribbean), to make life hard for Spain financially and politically. Hence, Salazar's anger at the 'British interference'.