"He's clearly returned to his old self, pompous and obstinate as ever.
"He is a cold and bitter man hardened by years of disappointment.
"He stays separate from the other men, and hasn't made a single ally aboard in four years.
"He's very volatile and has many reasons to wish harm upon you.
"His time in the Locker caused him severe damage of the mind…"
Will had been lecturing Rose for what had felt like hours. He began with a speech similar to the one he had given James: It was not their place to interfere with the hands of fate, despite the fact that Rose had proved such reversal possible with her recent demonstration of her powers. It was the Dutchman's sole duty to aid in the process of death, not usurp it.
Then Will's lecture progressed onwards to him apologizing for inadvertently allowing James to coerce her into helping him, and then morphed into a stern monologue about all the reasons why James should not be in her proximity. But the more Will spoke, the less Rose really listened. At the root of the matter, this simply wasn't fair. She could understand why they could not interfere with matters of death: it was impossible to save every life and interfering could alter the course of the future depending on what actions were made. But what irked her was that no one would give James a chance of redemption, thus ostracizing him. She, meanwhile, did nothing but give him chance after chance, yet he was forcefully ostracized from her.
This was not to mention Rose's complete uselessness aboard the Dutchman, rendered only by Will's command. At least James realized the potential of her powers. Now she was left entirely without purpose. If not for this purpose, what purpose?
Will was still spouting his condemnations against James. "For your sake, I hope you aren't...falling for his tricks, as both I and many of the other men fear you are."
"What is my purpose here?" Rose interrupted.
Will appeared to be taken aback. "What?"
"I said, 'What is my purpose here?'" she sat forward in her seat, addressing her captain earnestly. "Will, I'm restless. I have been granted these abilities whether I've wanted them or not, yet you refuse to have me help you. I cannot use my powers in the slightest, I'm not permitted to help chart the Locker, I'm not permitted to do any labor on deck… so why am I here?"
Will shifted uncomfortably in his seat, swallowing the truth yet again and stating judicially, "I was met with a difficult task in taking one woman aboard. Do I put the expectation upon you to take the same workload as my most experienced men? I knew you as a friend I owed a significant debt to. How do I serve as your superior?" He leaned towards her, lowering his voice. "I wanted to minimize your efforts on deck, to give you a bit of a…respite, I suppose, from all your many years of hardship. I am realizing that now perhaps I was misguided in my assumptions."
Rose smiled at his apology. "I appreciate your concern, but I have been literally begging you for work. I have an immense desire to do my part for this vessel. That part cannot possibly be for the sole purpose of on deck entertainment. I was not my mother in life, nor shall I be in death."
Will sat back, considering her offer. He still appeared skeptical, but finally he conceded. "Alright," he said, which caused Rose's hopes to soar. "Starting tomorrow, you are permitted to work on deck. Have some of the men show you how with this particular ship: Martin, Fitzgerald, Srivastav, my father…they know and respect you. Seek them out. If anyone treats you poorly, inform me at once. Understood?"
Rose nodded happily. "And what of my powers, Captain? You've seen what I can do."
He pondered this for a moment, then gave Rose an offer she would gladly take. "Refine them," he said. "Then, take me aside in a week or so and show me exactly what you can do. We shall assess from there."
Rose barely slept that night she was so excited. With her eyesight no longer a hindrance to her, death far behind her, and the tide on her side, she had more power than ever to actually serve a purpose on board. Although Will had only allowed her to partake in menial labor, it was a small step forward that promised a great deal of payoff.
Just as Will recommended, Rose sought help from her biggest allies on board. Although at first the men seemed a bit unnerved by her queries about the ship's function and were slightly patronizing, many of them quickly adjusted to this change and were willing to help her. From her days in the tavern to her days in the bayou, she was raised to be a quick learner, and that much had not changed. While she quickly remembered how to knot, hoist and repair sails, and re-tar the deck, she recalled how steering the ship was her strong suit. While she much rather preferred steering manually rather than using her powers to influence the ship's movement, she would practice her powers in moments of spare time.
Two weeks passed like this. Rose would master a long-retired skill from the past every day until she was familiar with every function and inner working of the ship. She knew every cannon, every rope, every crate that the ship had. She would spend half the day doing menial work, half the day refining her powers, and the entire day avoiding James. The ship wasn't that large, and especially when in the afternoons Bootstrap would lead a search party to a different part of the Locker to look for new crewmen and chart its location, the crew's size was greatly diminished, making it painfully awkward when the two would encounter one another.
James kept his word and his distance. He remained cognizant of Rose's whereabouts as not to bother her, but tried not to pay her too much mind for his own sake. He watched silently as she grew closer and closer to the other men, but grew increasingly disturbed with Defoe's proximity to her. From afar, he could clearly see his lingering gaze, boastful behavior when he was near her, and even overheard several demeaning remarks made to the other men about Rose. James stayed silent, but ever watchful.
And then one morning he watched Rose come to the deck to begin the day's work. He watched until he lost sight of her as she walked into a side corridor to fetch something she needed. He watched as Defoe, who was still heavily intoxicated from a previous night of festivities, closely following behind her and checking over his shoulder to ensure that he wasn't being followed. When the two of them were out of James's sight, he turned back to his work, knowing that he shouldn't get involved.
…however, what he had seen ate at him. It ate and ate until he could no longer just sit idly by. Something was telling him not to just watch from afar this time. Not with Defoe. Not with Rose.
