(AN: Guys, I'm gonna try to keep updating regularly, but I can't make any promises, as school is starting back up for me in two days. Will try to do my best, but please be patient. That means you, Connet.)

Captain Horace Avery paced nervously around his office. It had been nearly two months since Emma Silver had shared his bed, nearly two months since he'd last seen her.

He hadn't heard anything from her since she'd run off to the docks the morning after he'd made love to her. She hadn't so much as stopped by Skull Island to visit her quarters. He'd spent countless mornings since she'd left pacing around his courtyard, keeping his sharp eyes locked on the docks, praying to catch a glimpse of the maroon flag that decorated her Monquistan ship, the Furiosa Maria.

He was growing restless. He'd finally had her in his grasp, finally had a chance to have her as his own, and she had slipped away again.

He'd promised her, of course, that they could be casual. That she wouldn't be obligated to stay faithful to him, or to come when he called. She didn't have to swear to be his and only his.

That didn't mean, though, that he hadn't sworn himself to her.

In all his fifty-plus years, he'd never met a woman quite like Emma Silver. She was tiny, beautiful, and fierce; a violent, ticking time-bomb wrapped in an exquisite, dainty package. She fascinated him. She frightened him. She aroused his passionate side.

Ever since he'd first met her, five years ago, he'd been interested. He'd refused to admit it to himself, as she'd been but fifteen at the time.

On the run from the Armada, are you? Well, I run a pirate haven here, not a charity. If you want me to hide you, you'll have to work for it!

That had been the first thing he'd said to her. He'd had to force himself to sound brusque and heartless, to maintain a strong, unshakeable persona.

Although, honestly, all he'd really wanted was to take her into his arms and care for her. He'd wanted to call for a doctor, to stay by her side night and day until she was healthy again.

She'd stumbled into his office, bedraggled and half-alive, having just escaped from the brig of an Armada ship and taken down a couple of soldiers. She'd been clinging to the arm of that…cow, Kobe Yojimbo. (Horace knew that the "politically correct" term was "Samoorai", but he couldn't bring himself to call that bovine interferer anything polite. He'd seen the simpering looks Yojimbo had been giving her, the tender way he held her as she struggled to stay upright. He hated that abomination!)

The entire time she'd stood there, he'd stared into her beautiful, deep brown eyes and wished upon every star in the skyway that he could somehow grow younger, so that he could have her. Here was this beautiful imp of a girl dragging herself to him, putting herself at his mercy. He could have asked anything of her if he'd wanted to, and he had a feeling she'd have obeyed if it meant she'd have a safe place to lay her head.

He'd toyed with the idea of setting her up in the spare bedroom in his home, and keeping her close and under his eye. He'd thought of grooming her into his future wife, teaching her to cook and clean for him. But that had only been a fleeting fantasy. One look at this girl told him she was not the housewife type.

He had, instead, prepared a small cabin for her in the square, in a section populated by many Pirates with stories similar to hers.

He'd also, rather reluctantly, given her a quest. It was a relatively simple one, to find the Amulet that traitor Fin had stolen from him. It was a task he'd known she could accomplish with ease, which would earn her a bit of gold and experience with this life she'd chosen for herself.

(At the time, of course, he'd truly believed she'd chosen this path for herself. And for five years, he'd kept on believing. It was only after she'd confessed to him her promise to her parents, her oath to focus solely on the mysteries they'd left behind for her, that he'd realized that this was none of her doing. The Spiral had dealt her these cards, and she'd accepted the hand only because she'd had nowhere else to turn.)

He'd called her back now and then to perform other menial "fetch-jobs" for him, using his eccentric collections as an excuse to see her again. He'd sometimes let slip that the objects she was retrieving held more meaning than he'd originally told her, which always ignited a sort of fire in her eyes, not to mention brought her temper to a boil.

Why, he remembered when he'd sent her after the Monkey Chalice so that he could get the piece of the map it had been wrapped in. The piece of the map to El Dorado. She'd been so angry with him for concealing the truth from her that she'd shouted herself hoarse, accusing him of using her as a pawn, of thinking her stupid. He'd ended up shouting back at her, scolding her for disrespecting him, for not appreciating the lengths to which he was going to keep her safe. She'd gotten so enraged that she'd slapped him across the face once, and had been about to do it again when he'd grabbed her arms and restrained her.

That had been a moment that he'd locked in his memory forever. That one moment where they had been the only two people in the room and, it seemed, in all of the Spiral. Their eyes had locked, brown to blue, and he'd been so tempted to kiss her, the passion in her eyes driving him wild. (She'd been eighteen then, so it wasn't that unthinkable. But he'd held back, unsure of how she'd react.) A moment later, she'd seemed to sink into herself, her anger whooshing out of her. She'd rested her head on his shoulder, her body suddenly limp and exhausted. He'd awkwardly held her close against his chest, gingerly hugging her. They'd stayed that way for a moment, and then she'd left without a word.

They'd never spoken of that moment again, but Horace kept that in his mind as the first time she'd ever lost her guard with him, the first time he'd felt that maybe, just maybe, he'd have a chance with her.

He'd held that little scrap of hope with him ever since, using it to fuel every encounter he had with her, hoping to turn it into the beginnings of something more.

After she'd propositioned him and given him her innocence, he'd thought he had her.

But now? Where was she now? Why hadn't she come back? Why hadn't she attempted to contact him?

He'd been trying to keep tabs on her. He knew that she'd left Cool Ranch, that she was in Port Regal now, fighting Marleybone ships for Catbeard. She'd been hired to help start a war, and to free Napolenguin from prison.

She was really playing with fire here.

He'd thought about calling her back to him, trying to talk some sense into her. Not to control her, but to force her to see what she was doing. To show her an outsider's view of her actions, and get her to think more rationally.

But he knew, deep down, that wouldn't be possible. She would do what she wanted, and she'd somehow come out of it alright.

Until then, he'd just have to wait for her to return. She'd come back to him when she was ready.

He'd just have to be patient.