And with a bang, we're right back in it! Warning: thoughts of suicide/depression. (Sorry, really needed to have this in here first time I posted, but I forgot.)
The falling blade was brought to an abrupt halt by the clang of another sword, inches from my nose.
Sound rushed back in as I stared in shock at the two blades rattling together, unable to move, before an iron band of muscle quickly snaked around my waist.
I was yanked out of the way, back into hard, shielding strength as the other sword was thrown backwards, away from me.
Stunned, I blinked. I was still alive?
In a daze, I looked down, peering at the steely limb wrapped around my middle, pinning me against a warm wall that smelled like blood and spice.
Huh. It's an arm.
A familiar arm, with a sleeve of black and white stripes.
Comprehension clicked.
Armando!
My knees buckled in relief as my brain finally recognized who held me, who'd managed to find me just in time.
Salazar jerked me to the side as he stepped in front of me, making sure I stayed behind him as he clashed with the wounded rat.
With a vicious snarl, the enraged captain quickly managed to smack the pirate's sword right out of his hand, the slime no match for the Spaniard's sheer, controlled fury.
"Spanish dog!" the man spat as Salazar's rapier reared back in a chilling movement before lunging forward with a fatal strike.
I stared blankly, hardly able to believe it was over so quickly.
Before the body had even hit the floor, Salazar had already wrenched his blade free and twisted around to check me over, then snatched me into a tight embrace, smothering me as he buried his face in my hair.
I gasped as I was crushed against his chest, held so tight I wondered if he was going to break a bone. I could feel the buttons in his coat digging into my skin.
But his overwhelming heat was a welcome bliss. As reality surged in, temporarily removed from relief and disbelief that I'd almost died, so did the feeling that I was freezing. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, deafening me to any other sound as sickening chills raced over my skin.
My knees grew weak and watery as I sagged against him, trembling. Somehow, I managed to burrow stiff hands under his coat, gratefully inhaling the sharp scent of smoke, sweat, and blood. I'd never thought anything could smell so good as I panted raggedly, trying to regain my senses.
It meant I was alive.
He had come. He got here in time. He saved me.
Almost frantic murmurs of Spanish trickled into my ears as he pulled back to keep me at arm's length with the hand holding his rapier, quickly running his free hand down my body, checking for obvious wounds.
Past his shoulder, I could see that Magda was flagging wearily, blood staining his uniform from a cut in his side. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to the officer when help was right here.
Brain scrambling back online, I pushed Salazar away from me, alarm fueling my limbs and making it easy to nudge the big Spaniard towards sounds of steel still ringing together. "I'm fine, go help him. Go!"
I could panic later, but if Magda…
"Stay here," he ordered, twitching his rapier to flick off excess blood, his eyes filled with a hard, feverish light I'd never seen before.
He waited, refusing to budge until I nodded quickly, before finally moving to help Magda, even as the officer sliced a deep cut on his opponent's arm.
The pirate didn't stand a chance against the superior swordsman as Salazar exchanged only a few blows before rearing back and stabbing a vicious lunge through the man's heart, grinning darkly as the pirate slumped silently to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.
Silence echoed eerily through the room, filled only with the sound of our panting and faint shouts from outside.
Then Lady BeKatt crawled out from where she had wedged herself between the bed and a dresser and stood woozily, blood streaming from a large cut on her chest and another one on her arm. "Is it…over?"
With an exclamation, Salazar darted forward as she began to collapse and caught her, sweeping her up into his arms even while his already bloody uniform was rapidly turning bright red.
More blood dripped on the ground beneath her.
Salazar whirled about and snapped orders at Magda, carrying Lady BeKatt past me without a sideways glance and hurried out of the room, Magda on his heels.
He...left...me?
A sour feeling roiled in the pit of my stomach, rocking me back onto my heels, at being left alone in the room, now a silent tomb. The ferocity of the sensation surprised me even as I looked around with detached curiosity.
Even though I distantly realized now wasn't the best time for self-reflection, I couldn't emerge from my dazed state, staring at the glittering streaks on the floor.
Bodies were slumped in silent piles of meat and bone, once having been living, breathing, sentient people, yet were now empty shells. Husks, dripping glistening trickles of crimson and ruby.
I felt like just another husk, left behind, discarded.
Logically, I knew there was no reason to feel like this, but the sense of desertion refused to be explained away. I understood Lady BeKatt had been bleeding fairly badly, and Salazar had come to my rescue just in time, but I seemed to be emotionally unbalanced, and instead of going into a stupor of outright shock, my brain was instead irrationally focusing on being abandoned.
I squinted, trying to figure out if the room was swaying or if I was just imagining it.
Just as suddenly, I realized it wasn't the room that was swaying, it was me. I glanced down and saw one pant leg was absolutely soaked from the thigh down…
With blood.
Ah, now the fiery pain streaking down my leg made sense.
And as the adrenaline continued to wear off, along with the numbness of shock, it became more and more pronounced, sickening throbs that echoed in waves down my thigh to my toes.
Shifting my weight all the way off of it and lifting it slightly eased the nauseating pain, but not nearly enough.
Even without looking, I knew it was pretty bad.
Achingly slow, I managed to limp out into the corridor, ignoring the bloodstains and grisly chunks of human flesh. I was staggering through the Mary in a haze, knowing I needed help, but too tired to care as much as I knew I should. The adrenaline had sapped most of my energy, pain and blood loss slowly eating away at the rest of it.
Willpower was the only thing that kept me going towards where I knew I could find help.
If I had thought the rest of the ship looked like a massacre, it was nothing compared to the inside of the infirmary.
Blood, blood, and more blood. Just…everywhere. It was enough to make even me, who wasn't normally queasy, start to feel lightheaded from more than just my leg.
The screaming and yelling of wounded men rang in my ears, sounding like the howls of demons.
The body of one of the Spanish sailors, whose arm lay across his torso, completely detached at the shoulder, was what cinched my decision that my leg wasn't that bad. Nobody needs to be worried about me, not with people this injured.
I managed to slip by and grab some gauze and bandages without getting run over by the people rushing back and forth between howling patients, but I couldn't find any alcohol. I wasn't sure if it was simply because I couldn't read the labels or if they didn't use it as a disinfectant yet, but after getting clipped in the shoulder and almost knocked off my feet, I decided now wasn't a good time to start poking through the cabinets.
But I needed alcohol. That much I knew.
A hazy memory flashed through my mind, a box full of small brown bottles that had a distinctive sharp aroma that I'd put in the supply closet for Miguel. The same one I'd been locked in with Salazar.
I can make it that far.
Carefully, I stumbled through the loud chaos, past the white-faced form of Lady BeKatt as she was bandaged, her cuts deep but not serious, and made my way slowly to the closet. Breath wheezed from my lungs with every step.
Resting against the door, my eyes flicked over the shelves and the box I was looking for was thankfully right where I'd left it.
Oh, thank God.
Reaching with blood-stained fingers, I pulled out one of the bottles and sure enough, the familiar acrid tinge of pure alcohol drifted from the bottle. To make sure, I pulled out the stopper and poured a little onto my fingers before dripping it onto my wound.
Yep! That's alcohol! I hissed in agony as sharp splinters of pain sheared into my thigh. Holy fuck that hurts!
I wasn't sure why there'd be what I'd call pure rubbing alcohol aboard a Spanish warship, but I wasn't about to ask.
Strength almost drained, along with my ability to care that I was leaking vital fluids, I slowly, painfully limped to my cabin, the bloody trail I left behind me blending with the carnage on the formerly spotless wood of the Silent Mary.
The corridor blinked in and out of my blackening vision as my cabin door came into sight. Oooh, maybe I'll bleed to death, then wake up in my comfy bed back home. Wouldn't that be lovely…
A sharp pain of anguish in my chest said otherwise, and that confused me.
Harsh voices from the doorway beyond interrupted my morbid thoughts, drawing my attention and I stopped, weaving slightly, wanting to be in my cabin before I collapsed, but oddly curious about the shouting.
Curiosity won out, especially since my leg didn't hurt anymore, and I dragged myself forward, peering out the door to see a line of tired-looking Spanish marines lined up against the railing. Rifles were aimed down at the water at the plaintive cries for mercy.
The darkness of night made everything seem ominous, like some creature waited in the shadows to devour its prey with bloody fangs.
There was more than one shattered hull burning in the water, but I didn't have enough strength left to wonder where the other ships had come from. I assumed that the ship the Mary had been pursuing had managed to find allies.
I somehow found enough strength to lean forward enough and see the blurry forms of dozens of men as they clung to burnt, shattered debris, struggling to stay afloat and alive. I felt a flash of pity, then just as quickly recalled the little girl in Salazar's arms, then Rousy and what would have happened if I had ignored Lady BeKatt's screams. Or what had been about to happen to me if Salazar had been but two seconds later.
Speaking of which.
My eyes tracked Salazar as he paced behind the firing line, looking particularly menacing in his uniform of brilliant white, onyx black, and vivid crimson. Small fires scattered across the Mary's deck backlit his intimidating frame before they were quickly extinguished by other crew.
As he barked a command, signaling the marines to fire, I felt absurdly grateful that someone like him existed, was here to cull the threat from the waters, had been just in time to save the both of us. Again.
The crack of rifle fire startled me a little, but I lost interest with the scene before me as it flickered completely black for a brief instant, then came flooding back in a bright haze.
Okay, time to go.
I made it into the cabin just before my leg gave way, no longer able to support my weight. I flicked the bolt and practically crawled to the bed, streaking blood all over the floor. Gah, that's gonna be a mess to clean up. Dammit.
Muscles quivered as I collapsed on the bed, barely having the will to do what came next. Grimacing, I peeled my pant leg away from my thigh, the already cut material ripping easily as I exposed the wound.
"That's not good," I said with a sigh, seeing the bloody mess of muscle, but at least the cut was clean and I hadn't severed an artery, otherwise I'd definitely be dead already.
Muzzily, I started humming a tune as I inspected the sluggishly trickling meat, the sight of the blood pumping out of it in time with my heartbeat making me feel faint.
I knew I should definitely be bandaging it, but I was too deep in a state of mind where I didn't really care if I lived or died.
I also knew this state of mind was not normal. But knowing that didn't lessen the deadening emotions.
Actually, it might be better if I didn't bandage it. This could be the answer to all my problems, and I hadn't even had to do it myself.
Though, oddly enough, I suddenly found myself asking if I really wanted to go back. Yes, I missed my family, my animals, but the constant strain of my job, my life…
And I would never see Armando again.
I ignored the sound of boot heels clicking in the corridor, noting distantly when they paused in front of my door, but was too busy dealing with the deep throb of pain that stole the breath out of my very lungs.
A sudden knock on my door made me jump.
Clenching my teeth, I hoped I'd have enough strength to tell whoever it was to go away. I didn't want anyone to see this, see me like this.
I knew I was being all kinds of stupid, but at the moment, I had sunk into a lethargic depression so deep I barely had the willpower to wrap my bloody leg.
Just as suddenly, I was done. I was just so fucking done with it all.
Time travel, pirates, even these friggin' Spanish I'd found myself swept along with. I wanted out. I wanted to go home. And who knows? Maybe dying was how I got there.
The knock came again, this time with a verbal command.
"Open the door."
Dismayed, I squeezed my eyes shut with a quiet groan at the morbid joke the universe was enjoying at my expense.
Of. Fucking. Course.
Of course, it just had to be him.
All the bullheaded males in the world, it just had to be Capitán Armando Salazar, the fucking Spanish Butcher himself, on the other side of my door.
Any other member of this entire crew and I would have easily been able to send them on their way, but I knew, I just knew he wasn't going to leave me alone with just my say so.
Yes, I was more grateful than he could possibly know that he'd saved my life, but right now, I just wanted to be left alone. I needed to be left alone.
And how the hell did he know I was in here anyway? It was a big damned ship. Was he psychic or something?
"I'm changing," I called out, lying through my teeth as I pushed myself to my feet and began to pad gauze onto the wound. Who knows what he'd do if I died. Probably flip his shit or something, bring me back to the land of the living, only to send me off again with a merry 'fuck you!'.
Would probably serve me right…
But apparently something in my voice hadn't convinced him in the slightest, and even sounded like it had set him on edge. "Isabeau, open the door. ¡Inmediatamente!"
Seriously? I didn't even have the energy to roll my eyes as I told him, "I'll be done in a minute!"
What did you care when you walked right by me with Lady BeKatt in your arms? I thought sourly, knowing that this level of spitefulness wasn't normal for me by any means, especially since he'd saved my life right before.
Then I took another look at my leg as more heat seeped onto my hand.
I'll be dead in a minute, I corrected silently as the gauze was quickly soaked through. It was actually kind of grisly, how much blood I'd lost. It made me wonder if I'd have issues later, what with the alarming lack of transfusions and all.
I found myself unsurprisingly apathetic to the concern.
My head snapped up as the door abruptly shuddered on its hinges. Oh, shit. It's a sturdy door, right? I mean, no way he's going to-
It would be a long time before I underestimated the sheer determination of an alarmed Spaniard again as the door suddenly banged open, Salazar's huge form towering over me in two strides.
He paused as the sight of the blood seeping down my leg and immediately crouched to pull my hand away so he could see it properly.
The normally vibrant man went abruptly still while he took in the extent of the damage, then suddenly pushed himself to his feet and the look in his eyes made me instantly jerk back, away from the absolute fury he radiated.
Even through the shadowy tinge of morbid despair, it was enough to make me a little scared, the fear making the darkness retreat slightly.
"¡Estupida chica!" he snarled, more enraged than I had ever seen him even as his hand gripped my arm to keep me from falling backwards. He began ranting at me in Spanish, the rapid flurry of words incomprehensible as he snatched up the bandages and went down on his knees to stem the blood flow.
I was a little amazed that he could keep up his tirade for so long without running out of steam, but when it sounded like he was repeating himself, he switched to English and I was told in no small detail just how harebrained and downright stupid I was to have left his cabin, to have gone to help Lady BeKatt, to be standing here letting myself bleed to death...
I wondered belatedly if he was translating what he'd said in Spanish or if this was a different tangent.
Either way, I felt more than a little ashamed at how reckless I'd been, though if I'd known how close I'd come to death, I might have just stayed put. I would have eventually dealt with the guilt, but seeing that sword cleaving towards my face…
An icy chill raced down my back at the thought.
I glanced down to realize I'd forgotten the alcohol. Ah...fuck.
Just before Salazar started to put the gauze on, I reached down and cautiously touched his wrist, hoping he wouldn't just smack me aside in his anger.
He paused, glaring up at me as he pressed the gauze tightly against my leg. "What."
Swallowing a few times to moisten my throat, I croaked, "The bottle. Pour it on first."
With a dubious look, he grabbed the bottle and popped the cork, taking a sniff before frowning at me. "Why? This isn't for-"
"It's to help prevent infection," I hissed through clenched teeth, already dreading the pain. So far, my leg had stopped hurting, but this was gonna burn. "It works. Promise."
Still skeptical, Salazar did as I asked, dribbling a little into the wound, making blazing fire pierce deep into my bones.
FUUUUCK!
I shrieked at the searing shock of pain, grabbing onto his shoulder, then squeezed my eyes shut, concentrating on breathing through it as he coated the wound in alcohol.
His velvet voice crooned soothingly in my ear as he tried to be as quick as possible.
Agony scorched along my nerves and my mouth gaped wide in a silent scream.
My fingers dug into his shoulder. I knew I was probably hurting him, but my fingers wouldn't respond.
Gray lined the edges of my narrowed vision when I was able to open my eyes, tears trickling down my cheeks from the pain. My jaw hurt from being stretched so tensely.
I wondered if I'd almost passed out as I lifted my head from Salazar's shoulder, barely able to breathe from the memory of pain firing through my body, my upper body leaning completely against him.
Salazar was busy wrapping my leg, high emotion evident in the tight lines of his face, the jerky movements as he tightened the bandages. He had angled his body to support my weight and keep me from falling when I'd fallen forward.
I quickly wiped my face and sat up, dread building rapidly at the sinking suspicion that he wasn't through berating me yet. He was quiet, but I could see the rapid flicker of his jaw.
This isn't going to be good.
Finally managing to stem the bleeding, he blew out a huge breath and managed to wipe off some of my blood on a small clean spot on his uniform jacket before running it over his hair, dislodging chunks from his still fairly well-kempt bun.
Weariness lined his face as he leaned back on his haunches and looked up at me, but I knew better than to trust this sudden calm. I tensed, bracing for more of his rage.
He paused for a brief instant before the weariness vanished as anger flooded his features once again. He straightened, abruptly reaching up to grip my chin sternly, almost eye to eye with me even though he was kneeling and I was still sitting on the bed. "Stupid girl, what were you thinking?!"
"I-I went down to the infirmary a-and they seemed really busy," I stuttered, wondering why the hell he was so enraged. I was still alive, more or less, so why was he blowing a gasket?
"I'm not talking about that, though we'll get to that later!" he hissed, eyes glittering with repressed rage. "I told you to stay in my quarters! Santa María, Madre de Dios, you almost died! If I'd been-" he snapped his mouth shut and squeezed his eyes shut with a pained expression, turning his face away as he fought for control.
Air audibly hissed between his teeth as he sucked in a breath, snapping his eyes open as he asked with a tenuous calm, "And why, may I ask, did you not get your wound attended to before I came into your cabin to find you standing in a pool of your own blood?"
I cringed, unable to pull backwards with his hand still gripping my face. "I did go down to get it looked at, but seeing how injured other people were, I…didn't want to bother anybody," I finished lamely, then seeing his hackles begin to raise again, hurriedly added, "Besides, aren't you supposed to be looking after Lady BeKatt? She was bleeding pretty badly-"
"She wouldn't have bled out in a matter of minutes!" he roared, his accent so thick I could barely understand him. My jaw was starting to hurt where he held me a little too hard, visibly struggling to keep himself in check. "As for the infirmary, my men are very capable of their duties, and you would have been taken care of. As it is, you might get lucky if you don't lose your leg! Not to mention that I am having to prevent you from killing yourself through your own stupidity!"
I scoffed, not really caring as the depression swirled and grew darker, apparently loosening my tongue and my brain cells. "Or I could just bleed to death and save you the trouble."
As soon as the words left my lips, I knew that that was the wrong thing to say.
I panicked, trying to twist out of his grip before the man frozen in front of me comprehended what I'd said.
Too late!
Salazar's body vibrated with rage as both large hands flashed to grip my face, jerking me to look him in the eye. His glittering eyes bore into mine, exuding his overbearing will as he drew closer, almost nose to nose, and I couldn't help but absently notice that they were black as pitch at the moment.
"What did you say?"
A whimper clogged the back of my throat as I tried to pull backwards at the terrifyingly quiet voice, but his hands kept me in place.
He was silent for a moment, the thunderous expression growing darker and I was more than a little frightened when he finally spoke.
"I don't ever…want to hear that from you again. Do you understand me?" he said so softly I almost couldn't hear him.
The unvoiced threat was all the scarier in that dangerously even tone and I nodded quickly, not wanting to find out what would happen if I didn't.
I had never seen him this furious. He was more enraged than when I'd told him I was from the future and when I couldn't tell him anything about Spain combined.
It was downright terrifying.
Not to mention the shame of my selfish thoughts was practically crippling what little emotional barrier I had left. I just wanted to curl up under the bed and cry. Then maybe when I woke up, it would all be better.
Salazar rose, looming over me menacingly and I shrank back from the sheer, boiling wrath emanating from his powerful body, but there was no escape, nowhere for me to go. I knew he could easily break me in half, even if he wasn't infuriated, but the hands that slid under me when he picked me up were gentle, taking extreme care not to hurt me or aggravate my leg.
"Put your arms around my neck."
When I hesitated, he bit out, "Now, Isabeau."
I didn't dare argue with that tone and warily slid my arms around his neck to help support my weight. I resisted the urge to sink into his comforting embrace, remaining stiff in his arms as he strode out of my room and carried me swiftly down to the infirmary. I didn't want to be fixed up, I wanted to go home…
Either way, I didn't want to stay in this fucked up time zone anymore.
My brittle indifference lasted right up until he pressed his lips into my hair with a harsh sigh.
The uncharacteristically affectionate gesture made me jerk in surprise and he minutely adjusted his grip so he could hold me closer.
Suddenly, I could feel his heartbeat thundering against my chest.
It was racing as fast as mine, and that rapid pulse shattered my apathy into dust.
I squeezed my eyes shut and buried my face in his jacket collar, inhaling his scent, trying to ignore the metallic bite of blood that tainted it.
Panic, dread, terror, despair, fear; all twisted and churned on the outskirts of my mind. But the strong arms holding me tight kept them at bay, kept them from swarming.
Oh my god, what had I tried to do?!
I'd almost…almost…
My arms tightened around Salazar's neck and I forced the emotions down as the smell of blood grew stronger.
Spanish Translations (courtesy of either Google Translate or SpanishDict)
Estupida chica - Stupid girl
Oh. Boy. Salazar is very, very pissed... But can you blame the man? You know she just took at least ten years off his life, if not more.
And I'm sorry I didn't post the second chapter in the same week. I was going to, and was prepping the final edits...and fell asleep on my desk. So that didn't happen. Also, I don't think I'm gonna reach my deadline, too many chapters and not enough time. Yes, yes I realize how wrong that sounds...but I'll keep up the rapid posting anyway!
Do you guys want me to leave more commentary on Salazar/Isabeau's interactions? Cuz I do like to make comments, but I also like for people to read things without my influence...
