Warnings for this chapter: Not much for warnings. The evil muse is taking a nap.

AN: Explanations abound! (Sorta...)

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Crimson Ways
Part Fourteen

Intuitive software can easily be learned. You just have to work at it for a long time.

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Jack chewed on the tip of the arrow as he sifted through the clothing in on of the dresser drawers. There was a familiar taste on the end he was chewing, but he couldn't quite place what it was. He liked it, and that was all that mattered to him at the moment.

Giving up on finding anything distinguishing, he grabbed a shirt and stepped back from the dresser. He was then attacked by a dizzy spell and had to hold onto the dresser for support. He shut his eyes and waited for the room to stop spinning. He opened an eye and took an experimental; this time without the dizzy spell.

He took the arrow out of his mouth and looked at it. He sniffed the tip and finally recognized what he'd tasted before. Garlic. Looking more closely at the metal tip, he noticed small holes drilled into it. He assumed the tip had been hollow and held a concentrated liquid form of garlic. He grimaced at the thought that it was now racing through his bloodstream. Subconsciously, he stuck the tip back in his mouth and headed for the stairs, hoping the garlic would have no more effect on him.

He went down the first few steps in time to see Will trip backwards over the foot of the stairs. The room began spinning again, so he quickly sat down. After he recovered, he heard his mother asking about him. He frowned. This was shaping up to be a bad day.

Jack was barely aware of arguing with his mother. All he knew was that he didn't want her pestering him about his well being. The last thing he remembered before the world around him went black was Will calling his name.

'Jack?!' Will leapt to his feet and grabbed Jack before he hit the floor. He looked up at Millarca and asked frantically 'What happened? He was fine just a minute ago!'

Millarca lifted Jack's face and studied it for a minute; he looked a little flushed. 'Let me see that arrow.'

Will shifted Jack in his arms and supplied the arrow. 'What is this all about?' he asked.

Millarca ignored Will's question. 'Take him upstairs,' she said as she examined the tip of the arrow more closely. She recognized it as being identical to the one that struck her shoulder a few years back. She sighed, knowing what was held in the tip's hollow. Jack seemed to have the worst luck ever. She followed Will up to the room and watched as he laid Jack carefully on the bed. As Will lovingly brushed some stray hairs from Jack's face, Millarca wondered if Jack actually had some sort of twisted good luck.

'Will he be alright?' Will asked, not taking his eyes off of Jack's face.

'He'll be fine. It's only garlic,' she replied, then turned to Christine, who had silently followed them. 'Would you get some water and a rag? For the blood?'

Christine paled and nodded. She quickly ran down the stairs in search of a container and clean cloth.

'So the garlic myth is true?' Will asked.

Millarca laughed gently and placed a hand on Will's shoulder. 'No, it's just what you said it was. A myth,' she replied, giving Will's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

'Then why would it affect him like this?'

'He didn't tell you? What am I saying...of course he wouldn't.'

'Tell me what?' Will stood up to look Millarca in the eye.

'He's allergic to garlic,' she replied. 'Probably one of the few, if not only, vampiric being in existence allergic to it, yet he loves the stuff.'

Christine came back into the room with a bowl of water and clean washcloth. She silently set the items on the desk and went back to the door. She was being careful not to look at Jack or Will.

Millarca took pity on the girl and said 'You can wait downstairs if you want.' After Christine had left, Millarca explained for her. 'Poor thing can't stand the sight of blood.'

'Then why is she following you around?'

'She likes attention, and I give it to her. Or perhaps it's something deeper.'

Will opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it. Instead, he retrieved the water and rag and set them on the chair next to the bed.

'Want a clean shirt?' Millarca asked as she offered on to Will.

Will eyed the shirt and Millarca, then, with caution, he took it from her hand. 'Thank you...I think.'

'Think nothing of it,' she replied with a smile.

He began to lift off the bloodied shirt, but caught Millarca's watchful gaze. 'D-do you mind?!'

'No, not really.'

He was beginning to find her friendly smile unnerving. 'Would you be so kind as to give me a little privacy?'

Millarca sniffed a protest, but went to the door anyway. 'It's not like you're having sex,' she commented, loud enough for Will to hear.

Will closed the door behind her, grateful to be rid of her presence. He switched shirts and proceeded to carefully remove Jack's upper clothing. He stared down at Jack's half naked form. Aside from the caked blood smeared across his chest, he looked peaceful. Innocent even. Will laughed at that thought. Jack may act innocent and naïve, but he was far from it.

He sighed and scooted the chair closer to Jack. He picked up the bowl and cloth and sat down. Swirling the cloth in the water, he kept staring at Jack's chest as it rose and fell with each breath. Pulling his eyes away from the morbidly enticing image, he wrung out the excess water from the washcloth. He ran it over the center of the bloody mess, eliciting a moan of sorts form Jack. Will froze. No matter how much he told himself that wiping Jack, or anyone for that matter, clean of blood was an innocent act of kindness, it still seemed like there was a sexual undertone. He suspected that it was Millarca's fault because of her last words to him. She must have had a lot of practicing in getting under other people's skin.

He chose to ignore it and completed his task as quickly as he could. Now he had to deal with an unconscious Jack, unmarred by a crimson stain. Ten minutes or so passed by, and Jack finally stirred.

'Jack?' Will leaned closer to him, hoping it was a sign that Jack was getting better.

Jack opened his eyes and tried to sit up. 'I'm fine.'

'No, you're not. Now lie down before you make yourself worse.'

Jack raised an eyebrow at Will. 'Yer soundin' like her, y'know.'

'That's not the point!' Will pushed Jack back down onto the bed. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

'About what?'

'About that arrow having garlic in it, which you just happen to be allergic to.'

Jack groaned in annoyance. 'Don't remind me!'

'Jack, you knew there was garlic on that arrow, and you kept chewing on it like a dog with a bone.'

'So?'

'So, what's wrong with you?!'

Jack rolled his eyes in response and turned on his side, away from Will. The action caused a pounding migraine to set in. 'I've a headache. So do me a favor and let sleeping dogs lie.'

'You'd better not drool on my pillow.' Jack grunted in reply, and Will sighed as he stood and headed toward the door. 'Jack, I'm just...concerned for your safety. Get some rest; I'll be back later to check on you,' he said before he left.

He went down the stairs to find Millarca sitting alone at the table. He took the vacant seat opposite her. 'Where is Christine?' he asked.

'She had to run home and let her mother know she's still alive.,' she replied as she sifted through one of the bags she had brought with her.

'Did you...'

'No, I haven't bitten her, nor have I turned her into a lovely little vampire,' she answered, know what Will was going to ask. 'Why do you ask?'

'She's just been acting different. Nicer,' he said.

Millarca stopped her search through the bag to contemplate Will's observation. 'Did you act any different after Jack bit you?'

Will shook his head. 'Not that I know of,' he replied, 'but Jack keeps trying to find excuses to do it again.'

Millarca laughed. 'Not quite what I meant. Are there any noticeable differences in you since you met Jack.'

'I don't hate pirates anymore.'

'Anything else? Any new feelings?'

'I...' Will hesitated. 'What concern is it of yours?'

'He's my son. I have a right to know if you love, or if you're looking for a cheap thrill,' she explained.

Will blinked; he wasn't expecting Millarca to see him as the one seeking a cheap thrill. 'I doubt he'd be worth the troub;e if I didn't love him.'

'He is a handful, isn't he?' She retrieved a decorative comb from the bag and placed it in her hair.

'Yeah... I'd say the same about Christine, but from my experience, I don't know which of you is worse.'

I'd like to say me, but she's such a bother when it comes to blood. She found me in an alley last night, drenched in blood--'

'Who did you kill?' Will asked, interrupting her.

'How should I know? They were treating me like a common whore, and that's all that matters,' she replied. 'Anyway, I accidentally dripped one drop on her, and she flat out faints on me! So I bring her back here, not wanting to leave her in that dreadful alley with those two thugs, and try to get her to wake up. She did, I smiled, and she bloody passed out again!'

'From experience, seeing anyone covered in blood and smiling is disturbing,' Will commented.

Millarca nodded in agreement. 'Yes, so I cleaned up and got rid of my dress for the next time she came to. Luckily, non of the blood got on my chemise.'

'I was wondering why you were undressed. If you don't mind my asking, what did you do with the dress?' Will asked.

'I burned it. I...hope you don't mind my using the forge for that,' she said. 'You seem to disapprove of a lot of the things that I do.'

'I disapprove of your killing people,' he explained, not really caring what was being thrown into the fire.

'Even if they deserve it?'

'Marianna did not deserve to die!'

'Says you. And believe me, Jack would have killed her if I hadn't.'

Will would have argued, but deep inside he knew it was probably true. 'Then why didn't either of you kill Christine?'

'Jack wanted to, but he knew you'd hold it against him. He's quite adorable when he's drunk,' she said with a reminiscent smile. 'And quite agreeable.'

'I'll keep that in mind. But what about you?'

'In all honesty, I was going to, but she said she only saw you as a friend.'

'So you let her live because she wasn't competition?'

'"Competition" is such a strong word.'

'It's true, though. Isn't it?'

'It doesn't matter now. It's in the past,' she replied.

'It matters to me.'

'That's because you worry too much, dear.'

'I do not,' Will said defensively.

'More than you need.'

Will didn't bother to answer her; he knew she was right. He did worry more than he needed to. 'Out of curiosity, how old are you and Jack?' he asked, wanting to change the subject.

'What brought that question on?' Millarca asked in turn.

'I asked earlier, but I guess neither of you heard me.'

'Let me see... It's 1725 now, so...' She looked at the table top, doing the math in her head. 'I'm almost four hundred and Jack is just over one hundred.'

Will stared at Millarca in disbelief. 'You're looking well for you age.'

'Thank you. One of the benefits of being a member of the Vampyr race. Which reminds me, has Jack asked you yet?'

'Asked me what?'

'I'll take that as a "no."'

Will gave her a confused look. 'Is he supposed to ask me something?'

'If you want that answered, then you'd better ask him yourself.

'Ask what?!' She was only confusing him more, and it was annoying him.

'Patience is a virtue.'

Will let out an exasperated sigh.

After a few minutes had passed, Millarca said 'Here. Help me sort through my belongings.'

'I wanted to ask why you brought so many boxes and bags in. Did you go shopping?'

'That's what you're supposed to think,' she replied matter-of-factly. 'It's my luggage. I didn't want to seem conspicuous moving it from the inn to here. There's still more back at the inn.'

'Maybe you should have stayed on the Pearl...'

'I will not willingly stay on a boat any longer that need be,' she growled.

'Why not?' Will asked. 'Does it have something to do with running water?'

'If you must know, I drowned the first time I died,' she said in a huff. 'Dying is very traumatic. Especially the first time.'

'Oh...sorry.'

Will helped Millarca sort through boxes, separating everything into more organized piles--Millarca had simply shoved everything carelessly into the packages in an effort to be quick.

A half hour or so had passed and one question was nagging at him. 'Millarca?'

'Mum,' she corrected.

'Er...Mum.'

'Yes?' She stopped folding a scarf and looked up at Will.

'How did Jack first die?'

Millarca took on a pained looked. 'That is a question you should be asking him, not me,' she replied quietly and went back to her folding.

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AN II: How did Jack first die, and what sort of traumatic effects did it have on him?! Milli's afraid of water, so what might Jack's phobia be? This and more in later chapters.