Richards woke her up at dusk by delivering a swift kick to her side.
She moaned as she blinked awake. A throbbing headache greeted her before Richards could. He was making yet another crude comment, probably something having to do with her obvious suicide attempt, but she was too preoccupied reaching up and touching the dried blood along the right side of her face.
She had even failed to take her own life. Never before had Rose felt so defeated. All sounds seemed to fade into the background as she felt herself be hoisted by the shoulder to a standing position. Almost as though she was floating, as she unenthusiastically moved with Richards from the cell to James's room once more. Her eyesight was diminishing with the receding daylight, but all she clearly could understand was two things: no one had yet ordered her execution, and she had not succeeded in killing herself. So? Her prison sentence went on.
James opened the door to his room, and Rose could only catch the slightest glimpse of his alarmed expression before he along with everything else around her disappeared into the shadows of the night.
She heard the door click behind her, and James said, "My god! What happened to you?"
"I fell," Rose said listlessly.
"No you didn't!" James replied angrily. "This looks intentional. What did you do?"
She sighed. There was no point in trying to hide this. She had nothing to fight for anymore. "As you said, it will only be a matter of time before guards will come to take me to the gallows if I continue not to speak."
He didn't answer her immediately. He had left to retrieve a water basin and cloth. He placed both on a side table next to her. "Clean yourself up," he quietly demanded.
She carefully reached over to her left where the basin was located, finding the water without issue. The cloth was another matter entirely. She couldn't find it with her mind's eye. Finally, James took pity on her, taking her right hand and guiding it to the cloth. His guidance ended there however, as Rose was now forced to discover for herself where the dried blood had crusted on the side of her face.
After a few minutes of working Rose saw shadows shift in the room, noting that James had moved so that he was kneeling close to her side. "Why is it that you possess no desire to live?" he asked. "I have never seen someone so keen to end it all as much as you, and I believe I have had it far worse than you have."
Rose let her hand holding the rag fall into her lap with a thud. "Is that so?" she spat. "Was your mother killed for exhibition?"
"No," he said calmly.
"And did you watch as your love was killed right before your eyes?"
"No."
"Were you pawned off as someone else's slave for most of your life?"
"…yes."
Rose stopped at this, swallowing her bitterness. She had no idea who this man was, and she suddenly was full of remorse. She tried to think of something to still make her point while moving on from this issue, but there was nothing she could find to vocalize.
James quietly asked, "Have you ever killed anyone?" Rose didn't realize at first that he was imitating her question-answer technique of a few moments prior, until he pointedly didn't move on from his question. She quickly replied, "No."
"Have you ever let someone die?"
"No."
"Several people?"
"I understand your point," Rose said.
"I'm not certain that you do," he countered. He continued questioning her. "Have you ever lost someone's affections?"
"Yes," she said firmly.
"Ever disappointed anyone?"
Her mind flew to the last time she saw Jack. How dismayed he was that she was staying behind to help his enemy. "Yes," she gulped.
"Done something that could never be undone—"
"Stop…" Rose said. She didn't want to feel the emotions coursing through her.
"No matter how hard you've tried?" James finished.
"YES!" Rose cried. "Yes I have! Are you satisfied?"
"Do you feel utterly alone?"
"Good god, please stop with the questions…" Rose pleaded.
"What I am trying to say is," James explained, "You and I are not as different as you think. I see many similarities between the two of us."
Rose furrowed her brow. "I didn't get to this state by choice."
"And you're suggesting that I did?" he said incredulously.
"You had control over what happened to you. I didn't have that freedom."
His voice flared with anger as he muttered intensely, "Control? For my entire life I have fought for success, and around every turn I have found only sorrow. I saw an opportunity to regain former glory and I took it. And you dare say that I had control?"
Rose felt sorrow for him, but still had a point to make. "You could have let us go in Tripoli. That whole incident with the hurricane…"
He sneered, "Don't make assumptions about my choices! I would have ended up in the same place as I am now!"
Rose retorted, "Don't you then assume that you have it worse than I do because you seem to believe that I have had an easy life compared to yours!"
"Aye, the many horrors of living a carefree life with the luckiest pirate in the Caribbean," he spat sarcastically.
Rose scoffed, "And I should say the same for a wealthy Naval officer who has his marriages arranged for him!"
She clenched her jaw defiantly. James only brooded, "You really believe they are dead?"
He means Elizabeth, thought she. "If they aren't," she said breathily, "Your attempts will still be futile, I am sorry to say. She loves Will. That's that."
"No," he said firmly. "This I know. We have all made our final choices at this point." He moved away from her and sat back behind his desk. "All, that is, except for you."
She sighed. "And what choice would that be?"
"To survive or give up."
She shook her head. "You say that as though I have a say in the matter."
"I'm giving you a say." When Rose said nothing, James continued, "Would you like a say?"
"Depends on the cost. There's a cost to everything that must be paid in the end," she said, with Tia Dalma in mind.
He said quietly, "I might be hardened to many things, but I am not immune to the horrors of what currently befalls piracy. Yes, I believe piracy is a horrid reign of thievery and vandalism that must be stopped but this," he said, alluding to Beckett's tyranny, "This is not the way. I have been a pirate and I know that humanity can exist in these people. And I see that humanity in you. And I would like to help if I can."
