A/N: dude! im back already! nobody was expectng that! this chapter was inspired by the reviewer: Almenel-Miriel

so thanks to them for my new plot twist! while i'm mentioning reviewers, i just want to say that it's reviews that keep me into fanfiction.

thanks to:

ChaosLightning13, ta1nt3d1uv, caripsle, Noyesgirl, Your Nightwish, keliz2005, cHoCoLaTe-RuM, Lady LolaBert, Stormwake, pirateobsessed, KayleeG, Almenel-Miriel, ButWhyIsAllTheRUMGone

thanks! if i missed you or misspelled something, im really sorry! dont hurt me!

Slowly, my eyes began to flutter open, and at first I thought that perhaps I had gone blind somehow, as all I could see around me was darkness, and my other senses seemed somehow heightened, but soon the sensation disappeared as my eyes adjusted to the dark, and I realized that though my nose was reeling from a stench, it was not because my nose had become any keener—the smells had just grown worse. The first phrase that came to mind was nauseating stench, and the second was, bilge. I smiled slightly at my foolishness through the fog of sleep that still enveloped my mind—since when was there bilge on an island?

Suddenly, I froze, and looked around to get my bearings. It was dank, dingy, and putrid-smelling, and there was very little light. I faced bars. I closed my eyes very tightly for a few seconds and then opened them again, my face blank. "Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," I murmured inaudibly to myself. There were several other bedraggled-looking prisoners at my left and right in what I realized were other cells. I was caged. I had been betrayed. But to whom? Now thoroughly awake, I looked up to see a very smug Dorian just outside the presumably locked door of my cell. He smirked at me, but I stared back, not quite glaring yet, feeling my hands clench into fists. I could feel the hatred seeping into my mental image of him, and the blood was coursing violently in my veins. So in a matter of seconds, I was fairly pumped up, thinking extremely vicious thoughts. Blood lust, I thought grimly, but with some sense of obscure triumph. At that moment, the only thing in the world that I wanted was to draw blood, and I just barely kept myself from getting up right then and there and trying to bite him through the bars.

"Ah, Miss Laney, you're awake," he said with false civility, a slight smile just below the surface of his facial expression.

"Damn you, you bastard!" I snarled viciously, not bothering to watch my language anymore.

"Now, now, Miss Laney. There's no need for such animosity," he replied patronizingly, completely placid.

"Oh, shut your trap! What the Hell is going on?" I snapped, at the end of my rope.

"You've made me a considerable sum, Miss Laney, and I thank you for it," was all that he said, but it set me off like a volcano.

"What the Hell? YOU SOLD ME? WHAT MADE YOU THINK YOU HAD THE RIGHT TO DO THAT!" I demanded, my voice growing in volume, as I bolted up to stand.

He smirked, eyes slack-lidded as if he had better things to do. "I'm sure you'll make a wonderful slave. I do so hope you understand. The only way for me to escape the island was to sell you to the fine owners of this ship, so I did," he said calmly, smiling infuriatingly.

"You slime," I hissed, eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, "You malignant, repugnant, overbearing slime."

"Words will get you nowhere Miss Laney. Save your breath," he said, completely calm.

Now the blood was really up in my veins, more so than it had ever been before; every muscle in my body was tense like a drawn bow, ready to spring at any moment. I restrained myself, saying icily with pseudo-nonchalance, "So, who owns this ship anyway?"

"The East India Trading Company," he replied, cool as a cucumber.

I raised one eyebrow in my most aristocratic way, keeping my temper down. I laughed slightly with a small sigh. "They always were too enthusiastic about the slave trade. A pity. They could have been making twice as much with goods on the bottom of the sea."

"You're talking nonsense," he retorted, but looked slightly unsure.

I gave a frosty, knowing smile. "Oh, am I? I suppose you do not realize the abundance of natural minerals on the ocean floor? A pity," I drawled.

He glared, eyes narrowed to slits, face contorted with malice, and without another word, he strode out of the brig, his boots clicking the whole way. I leaned back and heaved a weighted sigh. Sitting cross-legged, I rested my elbows on my legs, my head in my hands, suddenly weary of the world, feeling a great weight on my shoulders.

"Miss Laney, is it?" I heard someone ask.

"Why does it matter?" I asked, lifting my head to be greeted with the welcome sight of a familiar face. "Mr. Gibbs?" I asked incredulously, gaping in openmouthed surprise.

"Aye," he replied solemnly from the adjacent cell.

"How did you get landed in here?" I asked, disbelief shown clearly on my face, no doubt.

"Bad luck," he said ruefully, shaking his head with a very serious expression on his face weather-chapped face.

"Ah. Of course," I commented dryly. He missed the sarcasm. "D'you think Jack'll come to rescue you? After all, he does hate the East India Trading Company…" I said, trailing off rather pathetically.

"One can only hope," he replied.

"How cryptic of you," I said wryly, "Does that basically mean no?"

"Pretty much."

"I love your optimism!" I exclaimed, and he raised a quizzical eyebrow in reply. I shrugged. "I don't suppose being a slave is very much fun," I commented conversationally.

He gave me an skeptical look that just about said, 'you stupid or something?'

I laughed. "Okay, so that was the understatement of the year. Anyway, got a bit of wire?"

"No. What for?"

"I coulda jimmied it," I said, smiling briefly in reminiscence.

"Jimmied what?" he asked, looking dubiously at me.

"The lock," I replied in hushed tones, and then got louder as I rolled my eyes a little and said, "Duh."

He did not reply, but instead looked at me funny, like I was a first class citizen of Mars.

"You're not just gonna let them sell you, right?" I asked worriedly, peering into his face for some sort of reaction. His face stayed annoyingly blank.

"I don't know."

"Come on! Dude, slavery is seriously un-fun!" I exclaimed, adding as an afterthought, "And yes, I know that 'un-fun' isn't a word."

He gave a slight smile, but it soon faded, and his face sagged in desolation. "What would we do? At this point, I figure there's nothing we can do."

"We have plenty to do!" I cried. "We can show that our spirits remain unbroken, we can ignore them, we can meditate, we can take a vow of silence—we have tons of stuff we can do."

"But none of those things relate to our escape."

"Do they not? Whoops. Well, I for one am going to meditate to clear my mind so that I may be able to think simply, without bias." I closed my eyes and sat in position, cross-legged. "Ommm…. Ommmm…." I sneezed, shook myself, and started up again. "Ommm… Ommmm…. Ommm…"

"Miss Laney?" a new voice asked, sounding timid, almost sheepish.

I cracked one eye open and glared irascibly at the speaker, a young man who I assumed was a guard of some sort, shuffling from foot-to-foot nervously outside of my door. "What? Please be quick, I'm trying to meditate here!" My other eye opened and the eyebrows went up, arching expectantly.

"I have some tea for you miss…" He held out a tin cup, a hopeful smile just barely gracing his features.

"Ah! Finally! I've craved tea all week! Thank you!" The water was a tepid lukewarm at best, but at that point, I didn't care. Tea! Now if only I could get my hands on a piece of cake... I decided not to push my luck. "Thank you," I said again, smiling. The tea was not very well brewed, being a rather light tinge of brown, but it was better than anything I had sampled on the deserted island by far. "If only it was green tea…" I sighed. "Oh well. One can't have everything." And so I savored the drink, wrapping my hands around the mug and leaning against the wall, listening to the sound of the ocean, finally allowing myself to be lulled into sleep.

A/N: i wasn't planning of making anything of the last line of the last chapter, "I trusted him." but when Almenel-Miriel brought up the whole idea for a good chance to have a plot twist, i thought that was a great idea. yay! please review specifically on: interest level, writing style, word choice, and flow. or you could just pop off something along the lines of 'hi' but if the spirit moves you to go into specifics... (hopeful smile)

that's all for now. bye.