A/N: Okay, wow. That was quite a long hiatus, much longer than I had intended. School was partly to blame because of all the workload they gave me at the very end, and I was partly to blame for being such an awful procrastinator. Hopefully you all will forgive me?
Usually I save these author notes for the end of the story but this chapter, and probably the next, aren't going to be completely relevant to my plot. But I will fit in some back-story or answers. Besides, it's been a while since I've written anything for this story. I need to catch my flow again before I can progress much further.
A big thanks to everyone and anyone who has stuck with me so far!
Chapter 10
Once again the occupants of the Moby Dick found themselves facing the impressive figure of the Sabaody Archipelago. Whitebeard decided against taking any further action, recuperation being his top priority. With Michael's memory missing and no cure for amnesia existing, they really had to dish out the remedies and hope for the best. If worst came to worst, the doctors and nurses agreed it would be best to let his memory return of its own accord.
At least his personality remained the same. And this memory-deprived version of Michael didn't mind a pirate's life (he actually laughed when he regained his composure enough to understand what it meant to be a pirate). He got along with his crewmates just as well as he did when he had a memory. It was almost as if he had never left, a sense of normality creeping its way back over the ship.
The only annoying thing about this whole affair was Siren.
"I wish she'd stop avoiding me." Michael sighed, swirling his drink idly in its cup. Ace glanced over at the boy- who was no older than himself.
"Meh, I wouldn't worry about it if I were you." he shrugged. When Michael's frown deepened, though, he scratched his head lightly with an upward quirk of his eyebrow.
"But… I just wanna know. Y'know? I don't see why that chick's gotta be so hush-hush about it. I've got every right to know about my own past life!" Michael followed his mini-rant with an angry swig. Ace waited for him to finish before speaking.
"Now that I think of it, you were the same way."
"I was?"
"Yeah. You kinda showed up out of nowhere, didn't wanna talk about yourself. Nothing."
"Well," Michael sucked in his cheeks with an indignant squint of his eyes. "she could tell just me if privacy's a big issue. I mean, I wouldn't squeal."
"Talk to her, then."
"But she avoids me!"
"Corner her, then."
"What if she slaps me?"
When Ace snorted, a flush crossed Michael's face.
"She's not gonna slap you. And even if she does, you're a pirate. Just, I dunno, make her stop."
"But what if we end up fighting?"
Somehow Ace's second snort sounded more condescending than amused. That didn't help Michael's flush.
"All these excuses! Man you're scared, aren't you?"
"Scared? Hell nah, don't be stupid. I ain't got nothing to be- to be scared of."
"Okay. Then stop pulling excuses out of your ass and go do something about it."
"Fine! I will!"
"Okay then."
"Just watch me."
"I will."
"…"
"…"
"After dinner. Tomorrow." Michael knew he'd never erase the image of Ace's smug smirk from his mind. That third snort would forever resonate inside his ears like a haunting melody.
Being the kind and generous person he was, though, Ace spared Michael further embarrassment by changing the topic. Food was always a great conversation starter- especially when one of the conversationalists had a black-hole for a stomach.
On some other part of the deck, the actual Siren lounged with her back against a wall. Marco and Thatch sat on either side of her, each with their own drinks and snacks. As they spoke, Siren kept her eyes glued to the Archipelago with the same childish interest she had the first time. Thatch chuckled low when he noticed.
"Looks like someone's hooked." he said with that funny grin of his. Siren blinked, turning her eyes to him.
"Of course. It's bubbly. What's not to like?"
"I should just buy you some dolls to play with, eh." Marco teased with a lazy smirk, unceremoniously shoving a piece of food into his mouth. Siren eyed him calmly, shrugging one shoulder.
"You should take me to the amusement park instead, dear birdie."
"What? And be surrounded by screaming little children?" he shook his head with a small shudder. "Make Thatch take you."
"Oi, now, don't shove her off on me."
"But you like children. And the amusement park. You can be her guide for one day, eh."
Siren cleared her throat, letting a small frown tug one corner of her face down. "You men sure know how to make a girl feel special. Am I that much of a bore to be around?"
Without waiting for an answer, she took one of the strawberries Marco was just about to pop into his mouth and munched on it with no real enthusiasm. A small part of her wondered if they were being mean just to kid around or if they seriously didn't want to be around her. After another bite or two from the strawberry, she decided she didn't want to know the answer.
Thatch's grin seem to grow an edge wider at the annoyed look on Marco's face, who was lamenting the loss of his fruit. She just had to take the biggest one…
"If I didn't mind being around children, I would take you." Marco shrugged. "But I hate children."
Siren tore her gaze away from the Archipelago to again eye the man next to her. "Technically, I'm a child compared to you."
It didn't take Marco long to pick up on the meaning behind those words. He felt his eyebrow twitch up in irritation. "It's rude to call people old, eh."
"It's also rude to lie." she said, finishing off the strawberry. "So I'm afraid you'll just have to put up with being called old."
She threw him a smile as Thatch watched on in amusement.
"Well, she does have a point." he mused. Marco sent him a glare.
"Don't encourage her!"
With the ship tucked away in some safe place and all the crew in a joyous mood, everyone was allowed to disembark and take the day off. Well, almost everyone. Some unlucky few were charged with re-stocking needed provisions but no one stopped to show them any sympathy. They were going to be here for a few days so everyone would get a chance to relax sooner or later.
As they were climbing off the ship, Siren caught a glimpse of Michael and felt a familiar sense of unease capture her stomach. Another emotion which resembled anger mixed into the unease as well, but she felt too uncertain to act upon it. It's been years since she last saw Michael, almost three years to be exact. And even then, the last time she saw him were on very unpleasant terms; the last time she saw him, Vincent died.
Withholding a sigh, she looked up to Marco who was strolling beside her.
"My Professor is still on the island." she said. "You wouldn't mind if I run off to see him now, would you?"
"Of course not." he answered with disinterest. "Go ahead and do what you want, eh. We can meet up later."
"Right." she nodded before flicking him a wave. He returned it with a nod before she walked away in the direction of Mangrove 70. Marco watched her for a moment. She was nice, he told himself. But there was a doubt forming in his mind with each new day he spent with her. He figured maybe some time away from her will help him get his thoughts properly organized. Help him figure out what he really wanted. So he went to go bother his fellow commanders in the mean time, finding the idea of their company much more pleasant.
Somewhere off in the distance, Michael watched as Siren left Marco's side and headed off on her own. He found himself following her from a safe distance, wondering where she was going. This was the first time he's seen her without anyone around. Ace's voice rang in his head, telling him to take advantage of her loneliness and go. Go corner her and make her explain everything to him. Use force if needed but goddammit he had a right to know!
"Yeah. That's what I'll do." Michael mumbled under his breath, dodging behind a tree as Siren glanced over her shoulder. He swallowed a lump that formed in his throat. A shaky frown trembled on his face. Damn. Just how exactly was he to get her to talk? He didn't know the first thing about the girl except that she liked to avoid him. Which didn't exactly help.
Okay. Maybe right now he should just focus on following her. He could come up with the how aspect later, when he actually succeeded in cornering her… if he succeeded in cornering her. No, when he succeeded. Confidence. Confidence.
Siren walked on, oblivious to the jittery shadow following her a few yards behind. The very shadow she kept feeling conflicted over; the very shadow she intended to speak to Steinberg about because to be bluntly honest, she didn't know what to think. How to feel. What to do. She sighed, eyes watching random bubbles as they formed, floated, and popped into the air, wishing she could do the same thing.
It didn't take long to reach Steinberg's place. It was a little hut hidden within the many big roots criss-crossing along the ground, tucked in the shadows cast about. Siren walked up to the hut and took a deep breath, nervousness trembling paths into her body. She lifted her fisted hand and held it in the air for a moment. Two moments. Three moments. Her brows knitted together. Her face became heavy, frown dragging her lips down into a droopy curve.
A breeze picked up and the popping of bubbles seemed to mute. Something didn't feel right. She knocked. Three loud and sharp thuds against the wood. When there was no response, she knocked again.
Nothing.
She stared at the door before something possessed her to open it. She grabbed the knob and expected it to not move. But when she was actually able to turn it, and open the door, and step inside, a red-flag started waving right before her eyes. Something was wrong, she could just feel it.
She walked further into the little hut, looking at everything. Some broken vases laid to the right; papers and documents were laying about haphazardly, some torn and bruised with black footprints. The sparse furniture adorning the room were skewed and disorderly, one toppled over. Next to the fallen piece of furniture, and much to Siren's horror, was Steinberg's wand. Splintered, broken in half, covered in dust.
Picking it up, all Siren could do was stare at it. What could have happened? Her mind raced, heart picking up in speed. Obviously there was some kind of fight. And by the look of things, he lost. But it made no sense to her. Why would anyone want to pick a fight with him?
The silence and lifelessness of the hut began to weigh heavily upon her. She left it and all of the questions carved into the walls, unsure of what the right thing to do would be. She didn't know how long ago the fight was, nor who initiated it. She didn't even know if- and it panged her to even think it- Steinberg was dead or alive. Siren placed the broken wand into her pocket before sighing for what felt like the hundredth time that day.
There always had to be something, huh?
Meanwhile, Michael still lingered some distance away from Siren. When she had first entered the hut, he had felt disappointed; his one chance to finally confront her and she goes to visit someone! He scolded himself, thinking he should have stopped her earlier. But then after a few minutes she came back outside, an air of solemnity replacing the relax manner of her posture. Just as he started to muse over how quick that visit had been, Siren started heading back to the main road.
Michael took a deep breath. He needed to stop her. Now. Before she went off to be with someone else and he misses his chance.
"Hey!" he called. She didn't seem to hear him, never once pausing. "Hey! Hey! Siren!"
Running after her, a sudden adrenaline injecting him with courage, he grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. She stopped, eyebrows lifting as she blinked at him. Michael could see something flickering in her eyes, something other than surprise.
"Hey." Michael offered her a smile.
Her eyes darted around the surroundings before meeting his gaze. "…Hello?"
She crossed her arms over her chest, shifting her weight to one leg.
His mouth opened and, for a few seconds, no words came out. Finally, "I need to talk to you."
"You already are." she drawled, face settling into a look of boredom.
"Well, yeah, I mean, I guess I am but I meant I need to talk to you about something important."
"More important than your rambling, I hope."
Michael felt his courage deflate a bit. But he was a stubborn one and refused to back down now that he had her attention. A small part of him wondered why she's actually listening to him now.
"Yeah. It is. I just- I just wanted to know if you know me from somewhere."
"Yes, I know you. You're a part of the Whitebeard pirates."
"That's not what I meant! I mean do you know me from somewhere other than the Moby Dick?"
Michael held her gaze, watching as her lips pursed together. Siren felt the usual unease that always came from seeing him surface, mixing in with the uncertainty that's been plaguing her all day. She couldn't help thinking how much she hated this feeling.
"…Yes." she relented, fingers tapping against her elbow.
"So you knew me back before I lost my memory?"
"Yes."
Michael smiled. "Then you can tell me about where I'm from and my life and all of that?"
"I can." she said. Just as he started to beam: "But I won't."
His face fell. "And why the hell not?"
"I simply don't feel like it." she said. He huffed indignantly, placing one hand on his hip.
"You don't feel like it? Are you for real?" he said. "And what gives you the right to deny me information about my own life?"
"I don't know. Free will." she shrugged.
"Free will? Free will? You bitch, that's not good enough!"
"Okay then. I won't tell you because you called me a bitch."
Michael groaned, vein ticking in his temple as he scowled.
"Goddammit! Why are you being so impossible?" he said. "I mean, really, what's wrong with answering my question? You're just trying to fuck with me, huh?"
"No, I'm not. I just really don't feel like telling you."
Michael took a deep breath to calm himself before saying anything more. "There must be a reason. And I want to know what it is."
"Maybe I just don't like you." Siren offered, shifting her weight to her other leg. Michael narrowed his eyes.
"And why don't you like me?"
"To answer that, I'd have to answer your first question. Which I don't feel like doing."
"Oh you damned horse-face!" Michael howled. Siren blinked, another look of surprise coming over her.
"Horse-face…?" Siren echoed. She unconsciously rubbed at her cheek as Michael took another, even deeper, breath.
"Okay." Michael said. "So let me get this straight. You don't like me. So you won't tell me about my life?"
"I won't tell you about your life because I don't feel like it, not because I don't like you."
"So you don't don't like me?"
"I do don't like you."
"What the-" Michael slapped his forehead, though he really wanted to smack her. "I don't like you, Horse-Face."
"Then we have something in common." she said. Letting her arms drop to her side, she straightened herself. "I have business to attend to. See yeah."
Without waiting for a response, she turned and started walking away from him. Michael could only blink after her, sorely tempted to put her in a bubble and let her disappear for good.
"Oi, Siren."
Siren twitched, thinking it was Michael again. But when she saw Marco walking towards her, she felt relieved.
"Oh, it's you." she said.
"Please, hide your enthusiasm." he remarked, sarcasm way too evident in his voice. Siren smiled briefly at him before falling in step alongside him.
"Did you want something?"
"Yeah. I wanted to know if you found that Professor of yours."
"…No, actually." She fingered the broken wand in her pocket, remembering the scene she had saw earlier.
"No? He wasn't home or something?"
"His home was in ruins." Siren frowned. "I think he was attacked."
"Hm." Marco eyed his girlfriend. "Well, I came looking for you because I heard something funny, eh."
"I don't suppose you mean the "ha ha" kind of funny?"
"Unfortunately no." he said. "I was walking through the Human Shop area and heard some guys talking about a wizard being on sale."
Siren looked up at Marco, eyebrow lifting curiously. "Human Shop…? There's such a thing around here?"
"Of course, eh."
"I don't like the sound of it…"
"Believe me, no one does." Marco shrugged. "Anyway, I remember you saying something about your kind not being allowed to leave your country. Seeing as Steinberg was the only other magical person around here I figured I'd check with you about it."
"I… guess… I guess he could have been taken by one of those shops." Siren furrowed her brow, chewing on her lower lip. "It did look like someone was fighting in his home. Can you take me to these shops?"
"You gonna look for him?"
"Of course. I have to." she said. "I don't want him to be a slave."
"I'll come with you. You don't know the first thing about slave shops, eh."
Taking the lead, Marco headed towards the deplorable Human Shop area. Siren could only hope Steinberg was still on sale.
A/N- To be honest, I had written half of this during the summer. This chapter took me the longest to write, for reasons I'm not even sure of. Maybe writer's block?
Well, I'm a senior this year. Despite all the college preparation I'm going to face these next few months, I should still have enough time to fit in writing for this story, especially since I'm only taking 2 AP classes and no science/math classes. I'm also going to keep trying to improve my story-telling- personally, I feel that this chapter is much better than some of the past ones. Am I wrong to think this?
Please review and tell me!
