Moonlight on the Caribbean

Chapter Twenty

Even once she was free to return to her room, Mimi Lockhart got no sleep that night.  Nightmarish visions and memories collided with her efforts to decipher what she had learned and kept her pacing the confines of her small bedroom until the sun rose.  By that time, she had at least settled on a course of action.  All she truly knew was that Philip and Jan were lovers, and the person that was most relevant to was Lady Wesley.  To Chloe, therefore, she would go.

Mimi crept silently to the lady's bedroom, before the other servants were active.  It was Jan's duty to attend her mistress in the mornings, and Mimi wanted to have been and gone before "Juana" had any suspicion of it.  Gently, she knocked on the door and waited for a response.

There was no answer, and Mimi cracked the door open to peek into the room.  Lady Chloe lay awake, gazing sightlessly at the mosquito netting above her head.  Dark circles surrounded her eyes.  She looked pale and sunken in the immense mahogany divan, with the white quilt enfolding her, and her dark hair streaming onto the spotless pillows.  Her hands were folded discreetly over the covers at her abdomen.

"My lady?" Mimi whispered, thinking perhaps Chloe had not heard her knock.

Chloe didn't flinch or look her way; she kept staring at the bed canopy as she spoke.  "Mimi, if I tell you something, will you keep my secret?"

Mimi knew Chloe was speaking to her as a friend now and not a servant, so she felt no qualms at parting the filmy curtains and sitting down at the bottom of the feather down mattress.  "You know you can trust me, Chloe, always."

"I had a dream last night," Chloe continued, still avoiding Mimi's eyes, her tone distant and cold.  "I dreamt I was here in this bed.  Strange, isn't it?  I was here, and I was waiting for something…someone, maybe…and it never came.  I waited and waited, and it never came, and I grew old and died right here in this bed."

Mimi shuddered.  "It was only a nightmare, Chloe.  He'll come."

Chloe bit her lip and nodded without lifting her head.  "But that wasn't the worst of it.  The whole time I was lying here, I could hear crying in another room; it went on and on, until I realized what it was.  A baby, a baby was crying."

Mimi blanched.  As with most women of her class, Mimi had always been a superstitious person; she understood the significance of Chloe's dream, as well as the lady herself did.  "My lady, did you…you didn't…did you?"

Chloe nodded again, and it was then Mimi noticed the silent tears streaming from her eyes and soaking the pillow at the sides of her head.  "That day on the island and again…well, it's too late for regret now.  But I…I've been lying here, counting the time, and I've missed my last flow.  And I've been so sick, and I…"  Her words trailed off, as she clutched convulsively at her stomach, rolling over to face Mimi for the first time.  "Mimi, what am I going to do?"

She looked like a child with her big blue eyes open wide in a pleading expression, as though begging Mimi to take away all her troubles.  Mimi reached for the lady's cold, soft hands and wrapped them tightly in hers.  "We'll think of something, m'lady.  I promise.  Captain Blackheart promised he would come back for you; have patience."

"You know I would.  You know I'd wait forever, if there was only me to consider.  But the baby…"  Chloe cringed, as though the word pained her.  But it must have given her some resolution she had been lacking before.  The beseeching, frightened look faded from her face, and she sat up, swiping at the remaining tears and settling her expression into lines of determination.  "If I'm found to be with child and unmarried, you know what will happen.  I'll be shunned, turned away from all good society forever.  I might even end up like one of those women by the docks last night."

Mimi turned her face away to hide the emotions Chloe's comment brought up.  The lady had no idea Mimi's own mother had been such a woman.  Mimi remembered too well the horrors of growing up on the docks.  "You can't let that happen, Chloe," she replied with wisdom beyond her years.  "Not to you, not to your child."

Chloe looked startled at the firm conviction in Mimi's voice.  "Then what am I to do, Mimi?  Tell me, please.  I have no one else on whom I can rely."

Mimi grimaced.  She didn't want such a large burden on her shoulders, but she knew what Chloe said was true.  She couldn't handle this alone.  "First, you wait.  There are still a few months before you'll begin to show, and perhaps before that time, Brady will return to you."

"And if he doesn't?" Chloe prompted, though her eyes showed already some hint of the approaching horror.

Mimi pulled together every scrap of practicality she had to force the next words past her lips.  "You'll have to marry Philip."

Chloe winced; her eyes and lips were pressed tightly together for long moments in silent pain.  Finally, she nodded.  "Oh God," she whispered.  "Oh please God, let Brady come!"

Mimi silently seconded the prayer, for Chloe's sake, for her own, and for the little life already growing inside of her friend.  She remembered the information she had come here to impart.  It would have to wait.  The last thing Chloe needed to hear right now was that the man she might be forced to marry was as in love with another woman as she was with another man.

~~*~~

Shawn Brady sighed as he rode to the crest of the hill overlooking Titan Sugarcane Plantation.  The sun was high and hot at midday, and Shawn sweltered beneath his heavy uniform.  He wiped his brow with a handkerchief and cursed again the formal propriety that required a man to nearly die of heatstroke merely to be presentable.  His head itched under his new periwig.

The slaves were out working in the cane fields, and Shawn felt fierce anger pumping through him as the overseer took a whip to the back of a man who lagged behind.  If that man worked for him, he would be put to the lash himself for such behavior, but Philip Kiriakis paid no attention to the running of his farm.  As long as the crops were harvested in time and he was able to reap his profits, he was content to sit back behind the gleaming white walls of his great house and turn a blind eye to the injustice taking place on his very own property.

Turning his head away from a scene he could do nothing to stop, Shawn traced the boundaries of the deserted Alamain Plantation to the west.  Brady and Jason might never return there to assume their false identities.  It would be unsafe for them to do so, since the women living in the nearest house could so clearly identify them; not that Chloe Wesley or Miriam Lockhart would be willing to, but that still left that other servant—what was her name?—and his fiancé unaccounted for.  He wished now more than ever that he had not agreed to Brady's promise.  He wished he was free to tell Belle her brother yet lived.

Pushing such thoughts aside, Shawn sunk his heels into the horse's flanks and galloped onward to meet his beloved.  He didn't come with pleasant tidings, but perhaps being able to deliver them himself would take some of the sting out of it.

He had not gone far along the dusty road when the sound of a woman's voice pulled him to a stop beside the same incident he had witnessed with such revulsion from the top of the hill.  Shawn knew that voice, though he had never heard her speak with such a tone of mingled disgust and authority.

"What do you think you're doing?  Put that horrible thing down right now!  How dare you!  These are people, don't you see?  This is a man you're treating like an animal.  Put that whip down, I say.  What's your name?  I shall report you to your master at once."

Shawn grinned but immediately dismounted to attend to the scene.  He had a feeling his interference would be needed.  

Lady Belle Black stood in the middle of the cane fields, her parasol high over her head to deflect the sun's piercing rays, her maid standing beside her for both moral and physical support.  The sweaty, grimy supervisor of the Titan plantation was staring down at her from atop his mare, the whip stopped mid-lash, as though not quite sure what to do about this situation.  The unfortunate man who had been receiving the beating used this opportunity to crawl out of reach of the boss's heavy hand.  The other slaves had stopped their labor to watch the confrontation unfold.

Finally, the overseer recovered enough to wipe his brow with the back of his dirty sleeve.  "Begging your pardon, Miss, but you don't rightly have the authority to tell me what to do here.  These be Mr. Kiriakis' lands, and he tells me the job needs to be done, so the job'll be done.  You don't understand how lazy these dogs can be if you don't keep them in their place."

Belle's normally sweet face contracted with impotent fury.  "They're not dogs, and they're not lazy!  They're people, and they're working under hideous conditions in the blazing hot sun.  Give me that whip.  I will be speaking to Mr. Kiriakis about this, I can tell you.  Give.  Me.  That.  Whip."  Her melodious voice had dropped to near deadly tones.

Shawn took a few steps closer.  He was behind Belle, who had not noticed him yet, and he would say nothing unless the overseer defied her yet again.  He had never been prouder of the woman he intended for his wife, and he longed to see the result of her actions.

The man astride the horse cracked the whip once more on the poor, crouching slave, before tossing it down at Belle's feet.  He spit on the ground near her.  "It won't do you any good.  Mr. Kiriakis knows I'm the best overseer in all Jamaica; he lets me have my way, and I get him his sugar."  He kicked his spurs into the mare and trotted through the crowd, nearly knocking over several slaves in his haste.

No sooner was he gone than Belle flung herself down on the ground by the injured man.  "Mimi, go back to the house.  Get me bandages, warm water, anything to clean these wounds.  Hurry!"

Mimi turned around, prepared to do her mistress's bidding, and gasped when she saw Shawn standing there.  Shawn put a finger to his lips, and she smiled warmly back at him before nodding and continuing her race to the house.

Belle knelt at the man's side and checked the extent of his wounds.  Eventually, she looked up at the still-gawking crowd around her.  "You and you," she said, gesturing to two of the largest men amongst them.  "What are your names?"

The two exchanged glances, before one of them stepped forward.  He was tall and broad, with beautiful ebony skin, horribly marred by slashes across his arms and back.  Shawn winced.  He had a noble carriage, a native grace to him.  This man was a king brought low by the greed, bigotry, and pitilessness of white men—of Shawn's own countrymen.

"I am Temilade," he said, his voice deep and full of grave dignity.  "This is Iniko."

Belle nodded and smiled.  She was not intimidated by his size or his race, as many colonial women were.  She carried no inborn or instilled prejudice to make her view any man as less than herself.  Shawn's heart swelled; this was the woman he loved.  "A pleasure to meet you, Temilade, Iniko.  My name is Isabelle.  Do you know where we can carry this man—oh, what is his name by the way?—somewhere he can be kept safe to heal his wounds?"

"He is Ndasunnye," Temilade replied, still staring at Belle as though he had never seen anyone like her before.  He probably hadn't, Shawn mused.  "And we may take him to my hut."

"Oh, thank you so much, Temilade!  Can you and Iniko carry him?  My maid has gone to fetch my things, but I'll be able to attend him when she returns."

Shawn doubted Belle even knew how much honor was being conferred upon her as Temilade stooped to help support the weak, injured man back to his hut.  If Shawn did not misjudge the markings, Temilade was a warrior of an honored tribe, while Ndasunnye was nothing.  To have a man from another tribe lodge in a warrior's house was practically unheard of.

Belle did not know any of this, however, and slowly got to her feet to follow the procession to Temilade's hovel.  Her eyes never left the wounded man, and Shawn decided not to make his presence known.  It was enough he had seen her goodness; she had not done it to make an impression on anyone, and that was where the true nobleness of her spirit lay. 

Shawn waited until Belle had disappeared into the slave huts before mounting his horse and riding on to the great house.  He would speak to Belle when she had finished her mission of mercy and not before.

~~*~~

Chloe was shaken awake from a brief and unsatisfying nap.  The Jamaican sun was so much hotter here than at sea, with the breeze of the ocean to cool Chloe's feverish skin; when the humidity had risen, she had retired to sleep away the afternoon, on Mimi's suggestion that it was good for the baby. 

It was therefore with some surprise that she blinked her eyes open to be confronted by a still blazing sky outside and Mimi bending over her within.  She groaned and rubbed the bridge of her nose.  "What is it, Mimi?" she asked groggily.  "Is something wrong?"

Mimi made an indeterminate noise.  "I don't know about wrong exactly, but you're missing all the fun."

Chloe blinked back at her.  "Fun?"

Mimi rolled her eyes.  "Yes, you know, fun, as in pleasurable experiences.  You used to have them too."

"I know what fun is," Chloe snapped, before getting hold of herself.  She took a deep breath.  "I'm sorry, Mimi.  I'm having trouble processing information today.  Would you mind explaining it all to me while I try to wake?"

Mimi nodded.  "Well, it all started when Lady Black wanted to take a walk.  I told her it was too hot, what with her black dress and the sun and everything, but you know how determined Belle can be.  So she started walking, and she saw the slaves working, and it horrified her.  Even women and children, working in that hot sun, barely clothed, half-starved.  And then, she saw the overseer take a whip to one of the men, and she lost it.  She went right up to him and yelled at him and demanded that he drop the whip, which he did.  Oh, you should have seen it, Chloe!  You would have been so proud of her.  Commodore Brady saw it though, and he looked ready to kiss her in front of everyone, he was so pleased, but he didn't say anything, just stood there watching her, and he wouldn't let me say anything either.  Then, Belle sent me back to get her medical things so she could take care of the man being whipped, and I did."

Chloe's head spun.  It was always difficult keeping up with Mimi when she started talking at this speed; half-asleep and disoriented, it was nearly impossible.

"So on my way back, I ran into Commodore Brady, and he told me Belle had gone down to the slave huts to tend the man there.  By the time I arrived, Belle knew half of them by name, was talking to them all, promising to do everything she could to help them.  The second I got there, she took all the supplies and…well, I'm really drawing this story out, aren't I?  I'm sorry.  Anyway, she treated that poor man…don't ask me to pronounce his name, I can't.  Belle does though; she'll tell you his whole life story, I'm sure."

"Mimi, would you mind getting to the point?" Chloe asked with long-suffering affection.

"Oh, right!  Where was I?  Oh yes, so Belle and I walked back to the house, and I still hadn't told Belle about seeing Shawn, since I knew he wanted it to be a surprise, and all the time we were walking, Belle was ranting about how she's going to use that whip on the overseer or maybe on Philip instead.  I wasn't too worried though, because she was also exhausted and hot and worried about those poor slaves.  The conditions they live in!  It's deplorable, and Belle's determined to fix it. 

"Anyway, so Belle and I walked up to the house, and we heard shouting the moment we stepped in.  I motioned for Belle to be quiet, so we could hear what it was all about.  Sure enough, Philip was screaming at Shawn for letting the Vengeance get away, the same as he tried to do last night.  Well, I've never seen Belle so angry!  Not even when she was yelling at that filthy man on the horse.  She stormed into the room, but her voice was so calm, and she told Philip he had no business telling Shawn how to do his job when he had no control over his plantation.  And it only went downhill from there.  Belle has spent the last half hour lecturing Philip on all he needs to do to improve his treatment of his people; she won't let him get a word in edgewise.  It's wonderful!"

Chloe laughed.  "I agree, that is definitely worth waking up for."

Mimi grinned at her.  "So you'll come downstairs with me then?  I thought it would be cheering to the both of us."

Chloe wholeheartedly agreed.  She wasn't sure which mental image appealed to her most: Philip Kiriakis being ordered around, or Belle Black issuing said orders.  She asked for Mimi's assistance in dressing—the voluminous skirts were too heavy for pleasant slumber—and then both girls raced down the staircase, only assuming a more sedate pace once the sound of voices drifted out to them.  Mimi naturally shrunk behind Chloe, once again the maid instead of the friend.

Chloe yanked her to her side and entered the parlor.

"And those huts are simply unacceptable.  Nothing but filth, insects, and disease!  You'll have to completely rebuild, from wood this time, with proper outhouses for sanitation needs.  And clothing for them all, and schooling for the children!  It's appalling, allowing children to work like that—"

"It's illegal to teach slaves to read," Philip interrupted.  He was sitting on one of the settees, his arms crossed sullenly in front of him as he watched Belle pace back and forth across the room, her black dress making her seem nearly a nun.  Shawn was leaning against one wall, watching the proceedings in mingled amusement and admiration.

"What?" Belle exclaimed, stopping in her striding to gape at the planter.  "Well, that law must be changed immediately."

Philip had apparently had enough.  He rose to his feet, his jaw like iron, though his voice was stiffly polite.  "Lady Black, while I applaud your humanitarian zeal, you will please refrain from telling me how to run my own plantation.  When you have property of your own, you will be free to conduct your affairs as you see fit."  He smirked.  "But as any property you might have will be settled on your husband, that shall never be, thank God."

Shawn straightened and stepped forward, placing himself between Philip and Belle.  "Belle's fortune and property shall stay in her name; it's in the wedding terms.  I don't need her fortune, and unlike some people, I refuse to rely on my future wife to advance me in the world."  He shot a pointed look at Chloe in the entryway, drawing the attention of the other two towards the new arrivals for the first time.

The anger instantly slid away from Philip's face, replaced by the mask of simpering affection Chloe despised.  "Chloe, my love," he murmured, approaching her and taking her passive hand.  He brought it to his lips, and Chloe repressed a shudder.  She could not marry this man!  She prayed fervently once more for Brady's swift return. 

"Good afternoon, Philip."  Her own control astonished her.  How could her voice sound so cool and placid, when inside her mind and heart were rioting?

"Well, now that we're all gathered together, I believe I shall order tea," Philip remarked smoothly.  He led Chloe to a chair and then snapped his fingers at a nearby servant, who immediately ran from the room.

Belle scowled at him.  "The pirates showed more humanity than you."

Chloe silently cheered and interchanged a look of amusement with Mimi.  It was the first time they had heard Belle defend the crew of the Vengeance since her father's death.

Philip no longer bothered to conceal his rage.   "Oh really?  Would you like to speak to my cook on that subject?  He has firsthand knowledge of those pirates you so defend.  He is the only surviving passenger of the El Diablo.  Shall I send for him?"

There was a universal shudder.  All present knew of the massacre aboard the Spanish galleon.

For the first time, Belle looked cowed into submission.  She took a seat beside Shawn and folded her hands primly in her lap.  "That will be unnecessary.  I was out of line.  Forgive me."

Philip eyed her with cool disdain for a moment, before relenting.  "All is forgiven, Lady Black.  Now, shall we move the subject on to pleasanter matters?  Chloe, my love, when is the day when you shall make me the happiest of men?" 

Chloe sent a silent appeal for help to first Mimi, then Shawn.  She couldn't marry him, not before giving Brady every last second to arrive.

Shawn came to her rescue.  "Well, it cannot be for a month yet."

Philip and Belle both looked at him in equal degrees of surprise.

"What have you to do with it, Brady?" Philip sneered.

"Nothing, only that I assumed Lady Wesley and Lady Black would wish to be married together, and Belle and I cannot wed for another month."  Shawn took Belle's hand and gazed on her with loving regret.  "That is what I came to tell you," he said, in tones meant for her ears only.  "Commodore Norrington has ordered me out on patrol; I shall have to go to sea."

Belle's face flashed briefly with pain, before she quickly repressed it.  She squeezed his hand.  "I understand.  It was the bargain I made when I agreed to wed a sailor."

Chloe watched them with a feeling of envy.  Everything was so simple for Shawn and Belle.  They loved each other and were promised to each other.  No one could come between them.

"I don't see why my wedding should be delayed to suit your schedule, Commodore," Philip complained.  "I want to take Chloe back to the Continent after our marriage, and if we delay any longer, the hurricane season will be upon us, and we'll have to wait another six months."

Chloe jerked her face to stare at him.  "Going back to England?  I don't understand.  If that was your plan all along, why bring me out here in the first place?"

"I didn't originally intend to return to Europe instantly, Chloe, my love," Philip explained, in a patronizing tone that galled Chloe almost as much as the continual references to her as Chloe, my love.  If he said that one more time, she was going to rip his tongue out.  "You may recall that your arrival was delayed several months by the…er…unfortunate incident."

"Still, why are we going back to England?  Your plantation is here."

Philip blinked at her.  "Why, to be presented at Court, of course, darling."

Why were endearments so un-endearing when they came from his lips?

Chloe blanched.  "But I loathe Court.  I came all this way to avoid that lifestyle, and now you want me to go back?  I can't.  I won't!"

Philip's blue-grey eyes hardened into steel.  "You will."

Fear lodged in Chloe's throat for reasons she couldn't define.  In England, Philip had always seemed loathsome to her, odious and foppish.  Now, on his own territory, she saw his personality more clearly.  Peevish, easily angered, and demanding, and this man could be her husband.  She could not let that happen!  And yet the baby growing inside of her had to be her first responsibility.

Tread carefully, Chloe, she reminded herself.  She smoothed her face out into indifference, before she continued.  "As you wish, Mr. Kiriakis," she said formally.  "But I must agree with Shawn.  I cannot be married without Belle; I always understood it to be a double ceremony, and I shan't be parted from her before then."

Philip scowled with displeasure but offered a curt nod of acceptance.  "Very well then.  The arrangements shall be made for a month from now.  Ah, I see tea is here."

Jan Spears entered carrying the silver settings, and Chloe moved forward to do the honors of the table.

"You will all pardon me if I don't partake," Philip said, as Chloe held out a cup to him.  "I have several affairs of importance that require my immediate attention."  He bowed and left the room, with Jan trailing behind, to the immense relief of all those remaining.

~~*~~

The day was well-advanced before the Vengeance docked off the shores of the pirate refuge of Tortuga.  Even at this time of day, the breezes from the city reeked of sweat and filth, blood and liquor.  Brady was long since accustomed to such odors, but they never failed to leave a stench in his nostrils, long after he had left the place.  He loathed this island.  It turned the most hardened fighting men into drunken, debauched imbeciles.  Rounding up a crew after a stop in Tortuga took three times as long as anywhere else.

Only one man could have brought him here in the middle of a quest as important as this.

"So let me get this straight," Captain Jack Sparrow mumbled over his mug of rum, while he faced the Captain and first mate of the most-feared and second-fastest ship in the Caribbean—second only of course to his own Black Pearl.  "You want me to attack a Spanish galleon within ten leagues of Jamaica."

"Yes," Brady returned evenly.  While Jack might stumble over his words, Brady knew his senses were fully alert.

"And for this, I'm to earn two chests full of pieces of eight, as well as whatever we take off the galleon."  For all the seeming calm of his words, the dark eyes were dilated beneath his faded leather hat.  His swarthy face was outlined against the flickering lamps of the tavern, and his teeth glinted greedy gold.

"Yes."  There was no change in Brady's tone.  He would ensnare the wily captain better if he played nonchalant.

"Now, one might ask why you're not going to take the beauty yourself."

"Our hold is full, and I'd rather see it go to you than reach King Phillip's coffers."

Captain Sparrow grinned and sat back, shaking his head.  "See, that's your problem, Blackheart.  You think ethics are important enough to go risking your bloody neck."

"And you don't?" Jason asked incredulously.  Brady winced.  This was the first time he had introduced his friend to the odd treasure-hunter, and Jason didn't know the way to handle him.

Captain Sparrow reclined even further, folding his hands behind his head.  "The way I see it, there are two things worth risking one's neck for.  The first is saving one's neck from losing it another way in the first place.  And the second is…"  He straightened suddenly, a thoughtful expression on his face.  "Come to think of it, there's only one reason worth risking one's neck."

Brady didn't bother trying to decipher the logic that had Jason's face contorted in confusion.  "So is that a yes or a no?"

"Don't be so hasty, mate.  I have some questions first.  I don't buy your story for an instant.  You're too bloodthirsty to let this prize go, if you didn't have something bigger in mind.  Now, I'm imagining there's a reason I'm to attack off the coast of Jamaica, and I imagine that reason has the name of Commodore Norrington.  And by my reasoning, that means you reason you'll be better off with Norrington away from Jamaica whenever you do whatever you're planning on doing, if you follow my reason."

Brady scowled.  He half-believed Jack Sparrow only spoke this way to make people think twice before coming to him for anything.  "Fine.  Yes, I want Norrington and his fleet out of Port Royal when I bring my ship in.  We've come into a spot of trouble recently, and I'd rather not have the Royal Navy pointing their guns at me before I reach harbor."

"Uh huh," Jack returned.  "But then the question remains.  Why risk leaving this port of all pleasures at the start of hurricane season to travel to a naval base with its guns trained on you?  Even ethics can't make you that stupid."

"Let's just say, I have a personal debt to settle."

"Someone take your ship?" Captain Sparrow asked with something akin to sympathy.

"No."

"Someone take your girl?"  There was derision in his voice now.

Brady's hand tightened around his own mug.  "No."

"Someone—"

"Someone killed his father, okay?" Jason burst out.  Brady groaned; he should have ordered Masters to be silent before bringing him.  It took many meetings before anyone gained skill at the art of speaking to Jack.

"Ah, well, there's a sensible answer.  'Someone killed his father.'  Does 'someone' have a name?"

"Jan Spears," Jason volunteered, despite Brady's well-placed kick under the table.

Captain Sparrow raised an eyebrow.  "A girl?  Well, that's nice to see.  I always was a supporter of equal opportunity killing.  Is she a pirate?"

"We don't know who she is," Jason went on, while Brady silently seethed.  "It's more a matter of ruling out possibilities that led us to her anyway.  The number one suspect was hacked up in a cupboard, and she was about the only one who could have done it."

Jack nodded, as though this speech made perfect sense.  Brady watched them both, his anger giving way to surprise.  Perhaps Jason knew what he was doing better than Brady thought he did.

"Now before I looked into killing the one who killed my dad, I would probably start looking for why they killed my dad, you know, just to make sure it all looks square, savvy?"

"Well to do that, we have to get to Jamaica," Brady gritted out.  This conversation was wasting precious time.  Ever since his father's death, his mind had been centered on one thought: vengeance on the murdered.  He had her in his sights, and he wasn't about to let her go, because of some half-insane pirate who just happened to be Commodore Norrington's nemesis.

"Right then.  Well, we'd best be off, hadn't we?  Just as soon as I finish me rum."

Captain Jack Sparrow drained the mug in one long, thirsty gulp.

~~*~~

He could still remember the first time he had seen her.  He had been a poor Greek scholar, struggling to hang onto existence as he studied in the legendary University of Salamanca.  He had been isolated, alone, trying to find his place in a world different from any he had known.  His father had been a merchant, and he had learned well the languages of Spain, France, and England, but he didn't belong anywhere.

Nowhere, that is, until he looked into the darkness of her eyes.

She had been the daughter of one of his professors.  Beautiful, fiery, with hair like midnight, and eyes that held the pride and anger of hundreds of generations before her.  She had been angry; he had known that the moment he met her.  Bitter, filled with a thirst for vengeance.  It wasn't until many weeks later that she had unfolded to him the cause of her suffering.

She had once had a brother, she told him.  They had been the dearest of friends and playmates, since they were children.  But the lure of fortune and adventure had drawn him to sea.  The patriot spirit burned bright in their family, and he had left with his sister's heart and fire as well as her prayers and tears.

It was not until six months after it happened that the slow course of mail from the Main brought news of the sinking of his ship and the murder of all the crew by a pirate vessel called the Vengeance.

She was not a man, fit to go to war, but she had the heart to kill, the spirit to take revenge for the wrong done her family.  And so, as she slowly told him, bringing him into her confidence, she had found another way to serve her country, her homeland, her brother.

By the time she had gotten so far, he had been lost.  He would have done anything for her, to have her, and when she asked for his allegiance, she received it instantaneously.  It was only later, as he kneeled in a Spanish palace and took an oath before the king that he wondered if he had done rightly.

All his worry was washed away by what followed.  To the Main he was sent, a plantation he was given, riches beyond his wildest dreams, and her always there, by his side, allowing his eyes to feast on her, allowing his body to mold with hers.

They sent reports of troop movements, of buccaneer activity, of West Indies politics through to the Inquisitors.  It was frighteningly easy.  And then, new orders had come.  It wasn't enough anymore.  They wanted more; she wanted to give more.  There had been night raids, bodies dropped into caves and the mighty ocean, never to rise again.  She reveled in it all with fiendish glee, and when she would come to him after a killing, she passed that passion onto him, until he learned to enjoy the slaughter as well, from the knowledge of what would come after.

They were a team.  Lovers, spies, murderers.

And then, new orders had come once again.  The West Indies were a lost cause, but perhaps with a spy in Court, more could be accomplished.  But how to gain entry?   Marriage to nobility was the only recourse. 

And a sharp wedge had been driven between them.

But he tried to drive that barrier away, to show her with his body what she would never allow him to say with words.  Her figure writhed and moaned beneath his, her fingers clawed into his back, drawing the blood that was such a sickly sweet part of their relationship.  He focused on her eyes, wanting to see himself reflected there, as he dove into her.

All he saw was darkness.