Disclaimer:  People who swelter for seven-and-a-half hours in the sun for a week straight can't remember whether they own anything or not . . .they live for the director's mouth forming the words 'at ease', 'water break', and 'lunch' . . .I think we can all lip-read those words by now . . .

AN:  I love band camp.  I hate band camp.  I can't decide.  My brother's are trying to kill each other every ten minutes.  One of my dad's good friends had his wife badly injured in a chemical explosion at the place where they work—second and third degree burns over her face, hands, and chest.  It took three fire extinguishers and the fire truck with the high-powered hose to get the reaction—and the fire it sparked—under control.  We had a band dance.  I can't dance, but I enjoyed myself trying to—I think it was rather amusing.  You probably don't care about any of this.  I've decided that the tech crew was nutters when working with the moon, that it takes a little over a day to go from Port Royal to Tortuga, and that ships are incredibly confusing.  Still working on the ships.  Thanks to all who attempted to help.  I think I'm high on life at the moment . . .Okay, enough babbling, they want to read a chapter, not the author's insane ramblings, even if said author's mind is literally fried . . .

Trust Me Still

Part 3

Will attempted to move his fingers again, the growing numbness in them starting to frighten and frustrate him.  The bonds around his hands and ankles were cutting off the circulation, meaning each passing moment shoved him another minor eternity away from freedom.  He had managed to remove the blindfold, for what good it did him.

The cabin where he found himself was small, dark, and completely bare.  There was absolutely nothing he could use to help him break or even just loosen the bonds.

Fear and rage beat through his mind in a steady, pounding rhythm that matched his heartbeat.  He had agreed to come if they would leave his family alone, and they had broken their half of the agreement.

He had heard Ana crying and calling to him as they were led through whatever had remained on Port Royal and rowed to the ship.  If not for her he might have chanced a dive into the water, but he couldn't abandon his daughter.  He had struggled to remain patient and wait for the 'opportune moment' that Jack always talked about.

He feared that it might not come this time.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor outside his makeshift prison and he turned to face the door, struggling to keep from doing anything that Jack might have termed 'foolish'.

The door opened and the raider who had agreed to let his family go if Will came willingly entered, holding a tray in one hand, a sword strapped to his side.

Will felt his mouth curl up into a feral snarl of outrage and he instinctively tried to clench his unresponsive fingers into fists.

"You lying, bloody bastard—"

The raider laughed in his face.

"Come now, lad, can't you come up with anything better than that?"

Will shook with anger and rage that was unable to find an outlet.  This was one of the men responsible for destroying his home, his life, for injuring Elizabeth, for frightening his children . . .

"Inhuman monster."  He spit the words out as though they were poisonous.

"Perceptive lad."

Will tensed even more.  Jack could get away with calling him a lad—the pirate had seen more than Will ever wanted to in his life, and the term was one of endearment.

This man, though, this man had no right to refer to Will as a lad—he was twenty-six, a father and a successful businessman, a man who had seen adventure and lived to tell the tale.  He wasn't some soft nobleman's son.

"I'm no lad."

"You'd like to kill me, wouldn't you?"  The raider set the tray down and knelt to stare Will in the eye.  "You'd like to plunge a dagger right through my heart and out the other side."

"Where's my daughter?"  Will kicked out at the raider, who laughed as he easily dodged the strike.

"She'll be safe—as long as you behave.  Not that you'll care for that much longer."

Will stopped struggling to stare at the raider.  He would care for his children until death, and even after if he could, but if they were going to kill him, what was the point of dragging him away from his home, his friends, his family?  He would rather have died honorably defending them.

"You must be a very good fighter to have beaten Matthew.  Very good indeed."

Will remained silent.

"You'll make a fine addition, you will, once we're through."

Will tensed as the raider drew a small dagger from a sheath at his side and moved towards him.

"Calm, lad, just going to cut your bonds.  Wouldn't want to wreck your hands so that you can't use that sword of yours."

Will watched warily as the raider moved forward and quickly sliced through the ropes binding his wrists and ankles, which began to tingle painfully almost immediately.


"Eat up.  Can't have you dying of starvation, either."  The raider gestured towards the tray he had brought, the dagger still clenched in his fist.

Will waited until the tingling had died down before making his move.  Standing and moving forward as though to grab the tray, he lurched into the raider as the ship tossed slightly.  The man brought his hands in to grab Will, and the dagger was within reach.

Grabbing the man's arm and shoving with all his might, he brought the dagger down and into the raider's side.

The man responded swiftly, ripping the small blade from his own flesh and raking it across Will's chest, leaving a thin trail of blood in its wake.

"That was bloody inconvenient, lad.  It might not kill us, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt."  The raider rubbed his side where scar tissue was already starting to form and fade while blood still trickled in a growing stream down Will's chest.

"What were you planning on doing, anyway, out here in the middle of the ocean?  Going to jump overboard with your girl if you can even find her and get through my men and then swim in an unknown direction for an unknown destination for an unknown amount of time until you drown?"

Will continued to stare at the raider in disbelief.

"You should be dead."

"No, I shouldn't be dead.  You'll understand soon enough."

"I suppose I need a longer blade, then—one that can cut through your neck.  Maybe I'll eventually use yours."

Will jerked his head back as the sword was jerked from its scabbard and placed under his chin.

"I could kill you where you stand.  Then again, your daughter's a pretty thing, and even if they don't like what they're doing, my men follow orders.  Now, lad, I think it would be better if you behaved and forgot about touching my sword, or any sharp objects at all, for that matter, until we give you one.  Understand?"

"You'll give me a sword?"  The skepticism in Will's voice was unmistakable.

"I'll give you invincibility, lad."

"And what's it cost me?  My soul?"  Will laughed softly.  "Sorry, I'm not interested.  I already had that chance.  What curse have you gotten yourself mixed up in?"

The raider laughed as he turned to go.

"Not a curse, lad, a blessing.  And you really don't get much of a choice."  The door closed, leaving Will in darkness again.

"No, not much of a choice at all."

Will could hear the words clearly through the door as the raider paused and then walked away.