Disclaimer: Evans, Adler, Eve, and Matthew are mine. And don't forget me
plot. C'est tout.
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Chapter 16: Damsel in Distress?
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"Maria, my dear, how I've missed you!" Lord Charles Adler II exclaimed with a false aristocratic smile as she glared at him from where she had been pushed inside. He shut the door with a flourish of his ring-laden hand and gestured grandly towards a table laden with rich delicacies, expensive she was sure. "Are you hungry? You must be hungry. Eat something, darling. Look at you, all skin and bones."
Anamaria rolled her eyes, instinctively stiffening at his generous attitude. She knew there was no reason for him to be compassionate or kind to her; he never had been so in the past. "I'm a little tied up at the moment," she remarked dryly.
Charles cast his blue eyes over to Evans, who shrugged with a nonchalant grin on his dark face, and asked worriedly, "Can we take them off her? Surely there's no reason-"
"Well," Ana told him thoughtfully, cutting him off and gaining herself a startled and somewhat angry look from the lord, "If ye did that, I can guarantee ye that that butter knife sittin' over there to the right o' the lovely flower pot would find a way into yer throat, mate."
Charles' charming manner faded, and he motioned to Evans, who gave her a particularly hard tug on her tender wrists. "You will address me as 'sir' or 'my lord,' is that understood?" he told her, drawing himself up to his full and not quite impressing height.
Ana did not reply, her silence granting her a sharp shove from behind, and she found herself kneeling on the ground before him. Immediately, she climbed back to her feet carefully, wincing at the pain and dizziness. She raised her head defiantly to meet his stormy eyes. "Always the proud one, Maria dear," he told her, none of his former delight evident in his words.
"My name is not 'Maria," Ana told him quietly through gritted teeth, "And I'm not yer anythin'."
"You are my property, which Mister Evans has so kindly returned to me."
Anamaria spat on the ground before him, her expression twisting into disgust and anger, "I belong to the sea, and I'm no one's property."
Charles closed the distance between them and slapped her cheek sharply. He then grasped her chin in his hand, ignoring her jerk backwards to release herself and her wince as he roughly increased the pressure scraped and bruised patch. "My, my," he sighed as if bored, "it seems that time away from the plantation has changed your perspectives."
Ana scoffed at him, despite the obvious danger of pain she was put in, "That's not true, Charles," she called him by his name deliberately with a lazy drawl, to which he stiffened but did not react. "Ye know I was never acceptin' of yer ownership of anyone."
Charles purposefully released her chin, pushing her backwards so she stumbled. He surveyed her tattered and stained clothing, flushed cheeks, bruises and scrapes, his eyes taking in her long legs, tan skin, stopping at her breasts, and resting slightly lower at her stomach. "Had any more children, Maria?" he asked intentionally. She stiffened, her eyes filling with rage to suppress her hurt. "Found another man to take you? No, I don't suppose anyone would have you." He paused, shaking his head slowly, and Ana almost lied and told him that she had, just to see if the temper he usually could conceal would make itself known. Charles watched her, his eyes calculating the amount of time before he could get a rise out of her, "We had a lovely ceremony for Stephan, Maria. It's a pity you couldn't be there-to say goodbye."
Anamaria's face darkened into terrible rage and pain, and she rushed forward two quick steps and delivered to him a high kick to the chin, something she had fortunately picked up in Singapore. While he was staggered, she took the opportunity to whirl on Evans, moving to knee him in the same place she had before. Unfortunately, he caught her before she could reach him by tugging sharply on the ropes and flicking his dagger up to her throat. Ana froze as the dagger wavered by her throat, knowing if it moved only centimeters, she was dead. Evans moved the dagger downward to the side of her neck, still not out of danger range, and he pressed it into her. Ana did not dare to breathe, and he went further, dragging it along her skin, cutting a very light line of red.
Ana grit her teeth, willing herself not to think of the pain and remain steady. He reached the edge of the neckline of her shift and moved on to continue cutting through the shift along the collarbone into her skin.
Charles' hand grabbed the dagger and pulled it away from its task, and the two men began to struggle and exchange insults. Anamaria withdrew into a corner, fighting back tears of pain and defeat, wishing the nightmare would reach its end; her heart cried out for Jack.
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An odd company composed of a lady, a young man dressed in plain clothing with a kerchief tied around his neck, a high-ranking British official, a filthy heavyset older man, several officers, and an unsteady man with a bruised face wearing a heavy vest and red bandanna, stood on the docks, staring at the town that was Wittenburg. "Where do we start?" breathed the lady, pushing her golden hair back from her face in annoyance.
"Me guesses it don't rightly matter," the dirty gentleman replied, looking to the man sporting the red bandanna to his right.
"We spread out," proclaimed the important British official, a commodore, to be precise. He turned to several of his lieutenants, "Take the west side of port and tell Gillette and his men to search the docks, boats, beaches, and buildings harbor side, understood?" The men nodded to their leader and scurried away, rifles held at ready. The commodore turned with a questioning glance to the man in the red bandanna with dark locks leaning against a pier.
"The taverns," the man under inspection said suddenly.
"What?" the man in the plain clothes and kerchief, the blacksmith, questioned immediately, knowing the dark-haired pirate captain was prone to sudden (both brilliant and daft) ideas.
"We'll search the taverns," Captain Sparrow announced, straightening up slowly. He noted with annoyance that his companions seemed prepared to jump at him from all angles to hold him up if he happened to fall over. "They be travelin' fer a day, aye? Ye would be hungry an' thirsty after travelin' all day in the hot sun, savvy?"
Gibbs, the heavyset pirate, rubbed a hand over his dirt-stained and unshaven face. "There be three taverns in this place," he volunteered, proceeding to explain their locations to the group.
"You're not leaving me behind," broke in a new angry female voice from behind James.
The group turned and saw the young lady Eve. James had been wondering where she had gotten to and now watched her curiously as the rest of the band scowled at her. James lifted his hand to cut off the stream of protests coming from all but Jack and himself. "Why is that, miss?" he asked neutrally.
"Because I'm the only able-bodied person who hasn't anything to do and I'm not going to sit here while people far more injured than I are involved in this rescue mission," she told the Commodore firmly, marching up to him, green eyes narrowed stubbornly.
James frowned. "It isn't safe for you, miss-"
"I'm no lily-white lady, Commodore. I can hold my own and besides I won't even be fighting, only looking for a poor woman. Heaven knows what's happening to her!" she told him exasperatedly.
A strangled noise escape Jack, and James glanced at him, realizing they were wasting precious time. Finally, he nodded curtly against his better judgment. Though her eyes were unfocused with concern, the young woman smiled at him.
Elizabeth spoke up, clapping her hands once in resolution, "Good. Will and I will go to the Solid Rock, Commodore and Jack can take Fire on Ice, and Gibbs can take Eve and search Rosaline's," Elizabeth Swann proposed.
She looked around the group, her eyes resting warily on Jack Sparrow and narrowing dangerously, "If you find anything, we'll meet back here in a half hour and will proceed from there." Everyone nodded their agreement except for Jack, who looked impatient and unfocused. "Jack--?" Elizabeth prodded.
"Fine, yes," Jack sighed, "Now can we go?"
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After nearly dragging Jack Sparrow away from a man seeming overly eager to bait the wounded captain and involve him in a brawl, Commodore Norrington found himself lightly restraining the pirate from an isolated table in the corner. Jack was gritting his teeth, watching the commotion of the bar with a sharp eye. There was no evidence of Anamaria or Evans, he admitted grudgingly to himself.
"Captain Sparrow," James began slowly, removing his hand.His tone alone suggested that it would be best to leave and meet the others back at the docks, "Captain Sparrow, there is nothing for us here and I think you're making the customers nervous."
James lifted his gaze from where he had been studying the bartender absentmindedly and realized that the pirate was not listening to him. James followed his gaze to a rather young lad with a mop of dirty brown hair and a wide smirk, obviously teasing his companion with something concealed in his hand. He squinted at the scene, looking back and forth between the boy and the captain, who looked strangely thoughtful and angry all at once. The boy's hand shifted, and James caught a glimpse of something shiny as the other boy made an attempt to snatch it out of his hand. James opened his mouth to ask Jack what exactly was so interesting about this lad, and glanced back at the pirate, only to discover his seat was empty.
James's gaze went back to the boy, and he saw the unsteady pirate captain approaching him. "Not good," he muttered, leaping up from his seat and making his way over towards Jack's destination.
The boy was giggling at his companion, admiring the prize in his hand. Suddenly, he found his wrist was caught in a large, rough hand. The boy gasped as the owner of the hand slid in beside him on the bench, propping up his elbow on the table. His friend scampered away, and the lad looked up with wide green eyes into the serious and steady black eyes of Captain Jack Sparrow.
Jack opened the boy's trembling fingers and plucked from his grasp a rather large, familiar gold coin, engraved with the Spanish seal. He held it up in inspection and cast his eyes sideways at the boy. "Where did ye get this?" he asked him gravely.
The commodore's hand clamped down on his shoulder, and Jack winced, knowing he was caught. The boy looked even more terrified, glancing between the two: an obvious pirate and an obvious British officer. "Care to explain yourself, Captain?" James asked, his serious expression betraying nothing.
Jack motioned for him to sit on the opposite side of the u-shaped bench, and the boy was caught between the two men. "This lad has somethin' that he shouldn't have. He was just about to tell me where he got it."
"I-I-I--earned it, s-sir!" the boy squeaked, nodding furiously as if to convince himself that it was true.
Jack leaned in close to the boy's ear, still fingering the coin. James rolled his eyes at the man's apparent oblivion to the concept of personal space. "Go ahead, tell me another one," Jack drawled seriously.
The boy's eyes widened more, if possible, and he began sputtering furiously.
"Ye stole it," Jack supplied to him cheerfully. The boy glanced at the commodore before back at the pirate in such close proximity to him, before screwing his eyes closed and nodding reluctantly.
"Who did ye steal it from?" At the boy's silence, Jack prodded again, "What did she look like?"
The lad's eyes flew open in shock, and James could see the pirate captain had hit it right on the mark, but the boy still refused to answer. James came to a sudden decision. "What's your name, son?" James asked kindly, leaning across the table in an attempt to counter Jack's effect on the petrified boy.
"M-M-Matthew," he sputtered, turning his gaze to the commodore.
"Matthew, my name is James Norrington and this is Jack Sparrow," James explained, ignoring the infuriated glares that Jack was shooting at him. "You're not in trouble, but it is very important that we find the lady that you took that from."
The boy made no reaction except to inch away from Jack. After a moment he looked up at James curiously, his expression of dread wavering with uncertainty. "Yer not gonna arrest me?"
James shook his head, but Jack's glance seemed to suggest that he would gladly shoot the commodore if he continued this nonsense. James sent the captain a silencing look before turning his attention back to Matthew. "Do you know where the lady is who this coin belonged to?"
Jack finally sighed in obvious frustration when the boy still refused to answer. "Look, mate," he told Matthew, setting the coin down on the table with a clink. "I gave this to her a little while ago, so I know it's hers. 'Er name's Anamaria, and we're here to rescue her from the bad guys, savvy?"
The boy glanced at the pirate nervously, his lips suddenly twisting into a small and excited smile. "She's yer damsel in distress then and yer gonna kill the bad guys and take her back and save the day?" he exclaimed, face brightening.
Jack laughed aloud.
At James' harsh look, Jack pulled his lips back down into a serious expression, his eyes still dancing at the idea of Anamaria reaction to herself referred to as a "damsel in distress." He nodded his head, contemplating the boy through narrowed eyes, "Aye, that's just it."
. "W-Well, I-I-know where they t-took her about an hour ago," Matthew said finally.
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I know, I know, it wouldn't really happen, its too ironic--- I promise I'll try and think of something really original & unexpected for the next chapter-what, did you think I'd just let her get rescued by her night in shining armor
*giggles like a seven year old*
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Chapter 16: Damsel in Distress?
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"Maria, my dear, how I've missed you!" Lord Charles Adler II exclaimed with a false aristocratic smile as she glared at him from where she had been pushed inside. He shut the door with a flourish of his ring-laden hand and gestured grandly towards a table laden with rich delicacies, expensive she was sure. "Are you hungry? You must be hungry. Eat something, darling. Look at you, all skin and bones."
Anamaria rolled her eyes, instinctively stiffening at his generous attitude. She knew there was no reason for him to be compassionate or kind to her; he never had been so in the past. "I'm a little tied up at the moment," she remarked dryly.
Charles cast his blue eyes over to Evans, who shrugged with a nonchalant grin on his dark face, and asked worriedly, "Can we take them off her? Surely there's no reason-"
"Well," Ana told him thoughtfully, cutting him off and gaining herself a startled and somewhat angry look from the lord, "If ye did that, I can guarantee ye that that butter knife sittin' over there to the right o' the lovely flower pot would find a way into yer throat, mate."
Charles' charming manner faded, and he motioned to Evans, who gave her a particularly hard tug on her tender wrists. "You will address me as 'sir' or 'my lord,' is that understood?" he told her, drawing himself up to his full and not quite impressing height.
Ana did not reply, her silence granting her a sharp shove from behind, and she found herself kneeling on the ground before him. Immediately, she climbed back to her feet carefully, wincing at the pain and dizziness. She raised her head defiantly to meet his stormy eyes. "Always the proud one, Maria dear," he told her, none of his former delight evident in his words.
"My name is not 'Maria," Ana told him quietly through gritted teeth, "And I'm not yer anythin'."
"You are my property, which Mister Evans has so kindly returned to me."
Anamaria spat on the ground before him, her expression twisting into disgust and anger, "I belong to the sea, and I'm no one's property."
Charles closed the distance between them and slapped her cheek sharply. He then grasped her chin in his hand, ignoring her jerk backwards to release herself and her wince as he roughly increased the pressure scraped and bruised patch. "My, my," he sighed as if bored, "it seems that time away from the plantation has changed your perspectives."
Ana scoffed at him, despite the obvious danger of pain she was put in, "That's not true, Charles," she called him by his name deliberately with a lazy drawl, to which he stiffened but did not react. "Ye know I was never acceptin' of yer ownership of anyone."
Charles purposefully released her chin, pushing her backwards so she stumbled. He surveyed her tattered and stained clothing, flushed cheeks, bruises and scrapes, his eyes taking in her long legs, tan skin, stopping at her breasts, and resting slightly lower at her stomach. "Had any more children, Maria?" he asked intentionally. She stiffened, her eyes filling with rage to suppress her hurt. "Found another man to take you? No, I don't suppose anyone would have you." He paused, shaking his head slowly, and Ana almost lied and told him that she had, just to see if the temper he usually could conceal would make itself known. Charles watched her, his eyes calculating the amount of time before he could get a rise out of her, "We had a lovely ceremony for Stephan, Maria. It's a pity you couldn't be there-to say goodbye."
Anamaria's face darkened into terrible rage and pain, and she rushed forward two quick steps and delivered to him a high kick to the chin, something she had fortunately picked up in Singapore. While he was staggered, she took the opportunity to whirl on Evans, moving to knee him in the same place she had before. Unfortunately, he caught her before she could reach him by tugging sharply on the ropes and flicking his dagger up to her throat. Ana froze as the dagger wavered by her throat, knowing if it moved only centimeters, she was dead. Evans moved the dagger downward to the side of her neck, still not out of danger range, and he pressed it into her. Ana did not dare to breathe, and he went further, dragging it along her skin, cutting a very light line of red.
Ana grit her teeth, willing herself not to think of the pain and remain steady. He reached the edge of the neckline of her shift and moved on to continue cutting through the shift along the collarbone into her skin.
Charles' hand grabbed the dagger and pulled it away from its task, and the two men began to struggle and exchange insults. Anamaria withdrew into a corner, fighting back tears of pain and defeat, wishing the nightmare would reach its end; her heart cried out for Jack.
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An odd company composed of a lady, a young man dressed in plain clothing with a kerchief tied around his neck, a high-ranking British official, a filthy heavyset older man, several officers, and an unsteady man with a bruised face wearing a heavy vest and red bandanna, stood on the docks, staring at the town that was Wittenburg. "Where do we start?" breathed the lady, pushing her golden hair back from her face in annoyance.
"Me guesses it don't rightly matter," the dirty gentleman replied, looking to the man sporting the red bandanna to his right.
"We spread out," proclaimed the important British official, a commodore, to be precise. He turned to several of his lieutenants, "Take the west side of port and tell Gillette and his men to search the docks, boats, beaches, and buildings harbor side, understood?" The men nodded to their leader and scurried away, rifles held at ready. The commodore turned with a questioning glance to the man in the red bandanna with dark locks leaning against a pier.
"The taverns," the man under inspection said suddenly.
"What?" the man in the plain clothes and kerchief, the blacksmith, questioned immediately, knowing the dark-haired pirate captain was prone to sudden (both brilliant and daft) ideas.
"We'll search the taverns," Captain Sparrow announced, straightening up slowly. He noted with annoyance that his companions seemed prepared to jump at him from all angles to hold him up if he happened to fall over. "They be travelin' fer a day, aye? Ye would be hungry an' thirsty after travelin' all day in the hot sun, savvy?"
Gibbs, the heavyset pirate, rubbed a hand over his dirt-stained and unshaven face. "There be three taverns in this place," he volunteered, proceeding to explain their locations to the group.
"You're not leaving me behind," broke in a new angry female voice from behind James.
The group turned and saw the young lady Eve. James had been wondering where she had gotten to and now watched her curiously as the rest of the band scowled at her. James lifted his hand to cut off the stream of protests coming from all but Jack and himself. "Why is that, miss?" he asked neutrally.
"Because I'm the only able-bodied person who hasn't anything to do and I'm not going to sit here while people far more injured than I are involved in this rescue mission," she told the Commodore firmly, marching up to him, green eyes narrowed stubbornly.
James frowned. "It isn't safe for you, miss-"
"I'm no lily-white lady, Commodore. I can hold my own and besides I won't even be fighting, only looking for a poor woman. Heaven knows what's happening to her!" she told him exasperatedly.
A strangled noise escape Jack, and James glanced at him, realizing they were wasting precious time. Finally, he nodded curtly against his better judgment. Though her eyes were unfocused with concern, the young woman smiled at him.
Elizabeth spoke up, clapping her hands once in resolution, "Good. Will and I will go to the Solid Rock, Commodore and Jack can take Fire on Ice, and Gibbs can take Eve and search Rosaline's," Elizabeth Swann proposed.
She looked around the group, her eyes resting warily on Jack Sparrow and narrowing dangerously, "If you find anything, we'll meet back here in a half hour and will proceed from there." Everyone nodded their agreement except for Jack, who looked impatient and unfocused. "Jack--?" Elizabeth prodded.
"Fine, yes," Jack sighed, "Now can we go?"
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After nearly dragging Jack Sparrow away from a man seeming overly eager to bait the wounded captain and involve him in a brawl, Commodore Norrington found himself lightly restraining the pirate from an isolated table in the corner. Jack was gritting his teeth, watching the commotion of the bar with a sharp eye. There was no evidence of Anamaria or Evans, he admitted grudgingly to himself.
"Captain Sparrow," James began slowly, removing his hand.His tone alone suggested that it would be best to leave and meet the others back at the docks, "Captain Sparrow, there is nothing for us here and I think you're making the customers nervous."
James lifted his gaze from where he had been studying the bartender absentmindedly and realized that the pirate was not listening to him. James followed his gaze to a rather young lad with a mop of dirty brown hair and a wide smirk, obviously teasing his companion with something concealed in his hand. He squinted at the scene, looking back and forth between the boy and the captain, who looked strangely thoughtful and angry all at once. The boy's hand shifted, and James caught a glimpse of something shiny as the other boy made an attempt to snatch it out of his hand. James opened his mouth to ask Jack what exactly was so interesting about this lad, and glanced back at the pirate, only to discover his seat was empty.
James's gaze went back to the boy, and he saw the unsteady pirate captain approaching him. "Not good," he muttered, leaping up from his seat and making his way over towards Jack's destination.
The boy was giggling at his companion, admiring the prize in his hand. Suddenly, he found his wrist was caught in a large, rough hand. The boy gasped as the owner of the hand slid in beside him on the bench, propping up his elbow on the table. His friend scampered away, and the lad looked up with wide green eyes into the serious and steady black eyes of Captain Jack Sparrow.
Jack opened the boy's trembling fingers and plucked from his grasp a rather large, familiar gold coin, engraved with the Spanish seal. He held it up in inspection and cast his eyes sideways at the boy. "Where did ye get this?" he asked him gravely.
The commodore's hand clamped down on his shoulder, and Jack winced, knowing he was caught. The boy looked even more terrified, glancing between the two: an obvious pirate and an obvious British officer. "Care to explain yourself, Captain?" James asked, his serious expression betraying nothing.
Jack motioned for him to sit on the opposite side of the u-shaped bench, and the boy was caught between the two men. "This lad has somethin' that he shouldn't have. He was just about to tell me where he got it."
"I-I-I--earned it, s-sir!" the boy squeaked, nodding furiously as if to convince himself that it was true.
Jack leaned in close to the boy's ear, still fingering the coin. James rolled his eyes at the man's apparent oblivion to the concept of personal space. "Go ahead, tell me another one," Jack drawled seriously.
The boy's eyes widened more, if possible, and he began sputtering furiously.
"Ye stole it," Jack supplied to him cheerfully. The boy glanced at the commodore before back at the pirate in such close proximity to him, before screwing his eyes closed and nodding reluctantly.
"Who did ye steal it from?" At the boy's silence, Jack prodded again, "What did she look like?"
The lad's eyes flew open in shock, and James could see the pirate captain had hit it right on the mark, but the boy still refused to answer. James came to a sudden decision. "What's your name, son?" James asked kindly, leaning across the table in an attempt to counter Jack's effect on the petrified boy.
"M-M-Matthew," he sputtered, turning his gaze to the commodore.
"Matthew, my name is James Norrington and this is Jack Sparrow," James explained, ignoring the infuriated glares that Jack was shooting at him. "You're not in trouble, but it is very important that we find the lady that you took that from."
The boy made no reaction except to inch away from Jack. After a moment he looked up at James curiously, his expression of dread wavering with uncertainty. "Yer not gonna arrest me?"
James shook his head, but Jack's glance seemed to suggest that he would gladly shoot the commodore if he continued this nonsense. James sent the captain a silencing look before turning his attention back to Matthew. "Do you know where the lady is who this coin belonged to?"
Jack finally sighed in obvious frustration when the boy still refused to answer. "Look, mate," he told Matthew, setting the coin down on the table with a clink. "I gave this to her a little while ago, so I know it's hers. 'Er name's Anamaria, and we're here to rescue her from the bad guys, savvy?"
The boy glanced at the pirate nervously, his lips suddenly twisting into a small and excited smile. "She's yer damsel in distress then and yer gonna kill the bad guys and take her back and save the day?" he exclaimed, face brightening.
Jack laughed aloud.
At James' harsh look, Jack pulled his lips back down into a serious expression, his eyes still dancing at the idea of Anamaria reaction to herself referred to as a "damsel in distress." He nodded his head, contemplating the boy through narrowed eyes, "Aye, that's just it."
. "W-Well, I-I-know where they t-took her about an hour ago," Matthew said finally.
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I know, I know, it wouldn't really happen, its too ironic--- I promise I'll try and think of something really original & unexpected for the next chapter-what, did you think I'd just let her get rescued by her night in shining armor
*giggles like a seven year old*
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