Author's Note: another fun chapter. I swear, I made myself cry this time around. I've never done that before. Never. But I really like this chapter, just like I've loved the past few. I hope you all like it too.
Oh, and Kendra is here, taking a break from her fic, Four-Sided Eyes. Go read that too.
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At Swallows Rest:
A week quickly passed, although for Winn it seemed as if it took forever. She'd discovered on the morning after her arrival why Grandfather had not been there to welcome her – he was too weak to get out of his bed. She didn't really know why she was surprised, he had lived longer than anyone expected, had out lived his wife by ten years. But it was hard to see a man she'd always viewed as unchanging was slowly slipping away.
"Winnie?"
"Aye, Grandpapa. I'm here." Winn sat up in her chair, holding back a moan as her muscles complained loudly.
"What are you doing here? You should be in bed, or pacing the floors in anticipation of your husband's arrival."
"He's not coming, Grandpapa. At least not any time soon. Besides, I want to spend time with you while I can." Winn came over and sat on the edge of the bed, taking once strong hands in hers. Marty had been keeping her company, and he came over and he followed her over to the bed, taking a position at the head, nearly hidden by the curtains. "Tell me a story. I want my child to hear its great-grandfather's voice."
"Winnie – he's but doing what he thinks is best for you."
"The he wasn't listening to me when I said that what I needed was him here with me. I'm tired of constantly worrying about him. I'm tired of feeling as if I'm being taken for granted simply because I'm with child. The only reason being pregnant has slowed me down is because no one will let me do anything."
"You're not happy to be here, but I, on the other hand, am very glad that you are."
Winn listened to her own words and cringed. "I'm sorry, Grandfather."
The old man shook his head. "Why are you sorry? I've lived a long life, I got the chance to meet and marry a beautiful woman, had two healthy sons by her. I have four intelligent, courageous, and content grandchildren who met and married spouses that appreciate and love them. I have nineteen healthy great-grandchildren, and another on the way. I'm leaving behind a legacy as well as stories, and with any luck, I'll see my wife again."
"But I'll miss you?"
"And you miss your husband as well."
"But that's by his own doing. There's nothing I can do about . . ." she gestured, ". . . about this."
"Then you've learned."
"What?"
Henry Morgan shifted on his bed. "Life is like the waves Winnie – it wears down all types of stone. What matters is how hard that stone is. Granite lasts longer than limestone. When you came here, you were a girl haunted by the thought that she . . . was unfairly plagued by death. But if you've come to realize that you can't change some things, then you've learned, and you're wiser for the learning. You're a step above limestone."
"Just a step?" Morgan looked at her as if she should be pleased with what she had. Winn shrugged. "Stubbornness must count for something."
"That's my girl."
A knock came on the door. Winn groaned and stood up, bracing her back. She had turned into such a weakling in the past months. She opened the door to find Ken on the threshold. The boy had been spending several hours with Morgan every day, hours that Winn used to sit in the corner and sketch, since the lad didn't necessarily like her wandering around alone. Not that anyone could ever be alone in this house. "I thought that was you," she smiled. Having a new set of ears to pour tales into had greatly delighted her grandfather and there was no way she'd deny him that. It was also impossible to deny the lad the opportunity to listen – his wide eyes and open mouth spoke for themselves. Not that he wasn't quick to grasp the reasons behind certain patterns of attack or unusual tactics. Winn often thought he showed too much understanding for a cabin boy, but she merely stored the feeling away with all the other peculiarities she'd observed about the boy.
Sooner or later she would solve the puzzle.
She wouldn't have to wait if Jack were here.
He'll come.
But would it be soon enough?
Kendra had been thrilled by the past week. Nay, exuberant. Life was calm, the food was almost unbearably good and plentiful, she got to know Winn better – Kendra thoroughly enjoyed her company – and she had the full attention of the man she'd idolized for a few hours each day. She would have been fulfilled even just getting a solitary hour. But this . . . brought her true joy. Or so she'd like to think. It was as close to joy as she'd ever been.
And my disguise is still working. Though it did take Sparrow quite a bit of time . . . and he just thought I was 'Pierre' the cabin lass for a time. She grinned inside and waited for the Captain to stop coughing. She held out a glass of water, waiting for him to take it. She'd become accustomed to caring for the older man, but only to a small extent. She had bandaged her fair share of pirates, but didn't dare to try to care for anything past a cut or small gash.
"Are ye all right, Captain?"
He coughed once more, then nodded, taking the glass of water and sipping it. "Now where was I?"
"I believe you were just about to . . ."
Winn listened as her grandfather spun yarn after yarn for the small boy. She'd heard these tales so many times, but never with the exuberance the boy showed. Her father had been a privateer, and piracy no mystery, but it'd never truly attracted her . . . not like the opportunity to please the remnants of her family had.
Kendra threw a glance at her charge as the Captain brought another tale to a close. The woman looked wistful and pensive. "Somethin' the matter, Winn?" Winn didn't look up from her drawing pad. Kendra frowned and nodded at the Captain. "Just a moment," she said before heading over to Winn and standing before her, looking down at the drawing. Her eyes widened as she saw the portrait that Winn had drawn.
It was a picture of Jack at the wheel of his ship, his hair whipping about his face as a stormed raged on around him. "This is . . . amazing."
Winn simply let out a dry laugh. She hadn't drawn that because she'd wanted to, she'd drawn it because she had to get it out of her. Kendra looked at that paper and saw a storm – Winn looked at it and saw all the anger and loneliness and yearning that was slowly building up inside of her. If Jack didn't come here and soon as he could – if he didn't come to her immediately after leaving Port Royal – she knew he was going to have to face that storm, because she wasn't sure how much longer she could bleed those emotions off.
Aboard the HMS Redemption:
The door to the cabin Jack had been in for the past week opened. Marcus stepped in, shedding rain as he did. "We've reached the estate." Jack nodded and reached for pistol and cutlass, tying them around his waist securely, but carefully. It'd been two weeks since his lashing, but his back was still covered with cuts, although most were covered over with scabs by now. Donning hat and coat, Jack went outside with Marcus, reveling in the rain being blown into his face by the wind.
They'd been prepared to go ashore the night before, but word had come that Gandolfi had relocated from Clarence Town to Deadman's Cay. Jack had felt a grin spread over his face at that news – the first he'd shown since Winn had left. The name was incredibly appropriate. Poetic justice. Ironic. Tonight. Tonight Gandolfi would learn how large a mistake he'd made a month ago when he let his prisoners go.
Marcus had led the attack on the main house, not that much resistance had been given at first. The servants on the edges of the estate were loyal to the crown and let the redcoats by without protest. It was when they'd reached the manor house that they'd encountered resistance.
For a good part of the fight, Jack had stayed to the edges. It'd been hard enough to convince Marcus to let him come ashore and he was still not at the top of his game. He wanted to conserve enough energy to face Gandolfi.
Once it was clear that the British had things in hand, Jack had entered the house, dodging sparring men and the occasional fist. It was almost like walking though the rowdier parts of Tortuga, except there was no undertone of good-humor here.
He'd been grateful to reach the stairs and climb into the upper reaches of the house, leaving the massive brawl behind him. He had no business with the Italian's supporters – his business was with no one but Gandolfi, and he only had so long before Marcus came upstairs as well. If his brother-in-law found the merchant before Jack did, then he'd lose his chancel that had been agreed upon before they'd even left Port Royal. Marcus had to obey the law since he was here as a representative of the Crown. Jack was the one who could act as he wished. And he was determined to see Gandolfi pay for the pain he'd put Winn through.
Jack searched room after room, unsheathed sword in his hand, as the noise from downstairs leaked through the floor. They were all empty. Frustration filled him as each provided another disappointment. Had the man escaped? Had he fled like a coward? Jack didn't think he would – it was more in character for the man to be shouting directions to his men, but he wasn't doing that either. Come out – Pain suddenly flared along his back. Jack twirled, sword-arm extended to keep his attacker at bay. His eyes sought out the man who'd attacked him. There you are.
Gandolfi was staring at Jack in dismay. "You're dead."
"So they say." Jack quickly slipped into his captain persona, a mask of distracted joviality slipping over his face. "And if they're right, I suppose I don't need this, do I?" Jack dropped his cutlass. He didn't doubt that the Italian would have fought dirty anyway.
Gandolfi, not the most balanced of men in the first place, backed away. "What trick of the devil is this?" he hissed. "Did you sell your soul to him for revenge?"
"No, things never got quite that desperate." Jack leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. "Game's up, mate. I must commend you for taking such a daring risk, but unfortunately, you've lost. You bet on the wrong man. Winn is still alive, her child still in her belly, and I, despite the rumors, never died."
"You lie."
"I hurt to much to lie." Jack watched the man out of hooded eyes as the Italian gathered his courage. "I'd run downstairs and surrender yourself, if I was you. The British will probably go easy on you, although I'm afraid their commanding officer isn't too happy with you. It was his sister that you poisoned."
"I poisoned no one's sister. I took revenge on a pirate, just as I will soon send you to meet your maker."
Jack sighed. "People keep saying that, but the only people I've meet have been my brother-in-laws, Commodore Norrington, and one very self-important Chancellor." Jack pretended to study his fingernails, watching as Gandolfi came a step closer. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, mate."
"I'm no coward to run from an unarmed pirate." Gandolfi raised his sword, ready to end things then and there . . . but Jack was quicker.
"Don't say I didn't warn you." He quickly freed one of his pistols and shot the man in the arm. Gandolfi dropped his weapon, looking at his wound in shock. "Now that we're on equal ground, let me point out the one thing that went wrong with your plan." He pulled his other pistol and advanced on Gandolfi. "You assumed that you had captured two pirates, one of whom had killed your son in cold blood. What you really had was a pirate and the reluctant grandchild of a pirate. And that grandchild has friends and family." Gandolfi was retreating, finally seeing beyond the raffish exterior of the man before him. The eyes staring into his were stony with cold humor. Jack let the man keep walking, but held his pistol at the ready. "Family who picked her up – her brother is the captain of that Navy ship you had us choose between. Her sister-in-law is a midwife who helped her keep the babe. True, Commodore Norrington was on the ship, and he's not my biggest admirer, but he's a good man and an old acquaintance of my wife. He did what he could to ensure I didn't face the noose." He watched as the old man's face twisted with hate. "He also did what he could to make sure that you and I would have this meeting." Thunder boomed outside the house, the wind picked up, and a tree branch came crashing through a window.
Jack turned to it in surprise and Gandolfi took advantage of the pirate's distraction. He reached for his own pistol, quickly bringing it up to bear on Jack. Jack turned back to his opponent just in time to see him fire the weapon . . . .
. . . but it was too late. Marcus had come onto the little scene unnoticed. He brought the flat of his sword up, knocking the aim off. The bullet slammed harmlessly into a wall. Gandolfi turned to face this new attacker, tripping on a lose rug as he did. With a cry of anger, he fell over the banister and dropped. Jack and Marcus both raced over to see where he'd landed – the merchant was lying on the floor some thirty feet below, the angle of his neck testifying to the merchant's fate.
Both men looked at each other, almost glad that gravity had taken care of either of them having to put a pistol ball in the man's heart.
Marcus clapped Jack on the shoulder, then went back downstairs to supervise his men. Jack stayed where he was for the time being, watching out of masked eyes as two redcoats came over to move Gandolfi's body. After all that it had taken to get him here, after all that he'd watched Winn suffer, after all the waiting and the decision to disregard Winn's request that he go to her . . . this was almost anticlimactic. Not that Jack had expected to find pleasure in Gandolfi's death – he was simply doing what had to be done to protect his family – but he had expected to feel a surcease of impending doom. But the feeling that something was not right lingered.
You're imagining things, Jack old boy. He shook his head, baubles clanking against each other. He remembered that he'd sent one of them to Winn and that he still hadn't gotten it back. That settles that, then. Moving slowly, feeling his back ache with every move of his arms, Jack sheathed his sword and went down the stairs.
It took some minutes, but he found Marcus. He waited for the other man to complete a set of orders, then swung an arm around the young captain's shoulders, wincing as one of his wounds pulled. "What say you to deliverin' me to my wife?"
Swallows Rest:
"Winn, wake up." Winn struggled to ignore the hand shaking her, attempting to roll onto her stomach before remembering that she couldn't anymore.
"Go 'way, Liz. I's'not morning yet."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, too impatient to have to deal with her friend's obstinacy at the moment. "Winn, it's your grandfather. He wants to see you."
Winn sighed, still unwilling to get up. Then Elizabeth's words registered on her mind. Slowly, moaning like a stuck whale, she climbed out of bed. She hurt . . . all over. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten a full night's sleep with a dream or her babe waking her. She missed her husband, practically ached for his support. She was furious with him because if all had gone according to plan and Norrington had let him leave when he'd said he would, then he would have been here about two weeks ago. And if her grandfather was calling her in the middle of the night, that could only mean one thing. Jack, why? she silently demanded of him. I want to see Gandolfi pay too, but I need you more. Surely revenge could have waited a few more days.
Winn donned her dressing gown and went with Elizabeth, leaning on her friend as they went up the stairs to her grandfather's room. Once they reached, Elizabeth squeezed Winn's hand, then let go. Winn stared at the door, took a deep breath, blinked back the beginnings of tears, and walked into the room.
When she saw the mass of people in the room, she almost laughed. The grand patriarch, blessing each member of his family before . . . before . . . . Winn took another deep breath. I can do this. I can do this for Grandfather. Silently, she went and stood next to Grace. Her sister-in-law reached over and took her hand. Winn squeezed it tightly, then rested her head against Grace's shoulder. She looked around the room; Ry and Cat stood together, their brood in front of them, listening as Morgan spoke to them. Richard and Sarah had arrived two days before, and they as well had cornered their children. They were waiting to speak to Morgan just as Grace was standing with her family. Winn wondered if Grace were as mad at Marcus for not being here as she was at Jack for not standing at her side at this time. Miraculously, all the babies were quiet, either asleep or watching the proceedings with grave eyes. Marty stood in one corner, Pige was bracing Winn's other side. Elizabeth, Will, and Ken were all at the doorway.
And so goes a feared and reviled pirate captain – surrounded by his grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and friends. Ry and his family stepped back to let Richard's branch take their turn. He immediately came over and shooed Pige out of the way, letting Winn rest her weight against him. Cat shot her a understanding glance as she shooed her passel of tired children out of the room.
Winn didn't know how long she waited for her turn to talk to Morgan. As in all else, the proper order of things was obeyed, each grandchild paying their respects in a succession of age. Finally it was her turn, as she came to sit on the edge of her grandfather's bed, Ry and Richard closed to door to the room so it was just the Morgan grandchildren – minus a captain – waiting to wish Henry Morgan farewell.
"Winnie."
"Yes, Grandfather, I'm here." She didn't look away from his face but knew that her brothers had retreated to give them some privacy.
"I don't know if this story was ever told to you, but your grandmother left me once." Winn bowed her head, knowing that he was trying to make a point, but her heart wasn't ready to hear it yet. "She left me, for reasons that aren't important anymore. When she came back though, I was still upset that . . . that she had even considered not being at my side. For days I was mad at her, wouldn't speak to her, would barely look at her. The Morgan temper, I'm afraid, is hard to overcome at times. Eventually she came to me and said that if I wasn't going to stop behaving like a child who'd had a favorite toy taken away, she'd leave until I was ready to start behaving like a husband again. I thought she was joking, but she did leave, and it took me months to track her down again." She really didn't want to be hearing this – she wanted to hold on to her anger. "Winnie, look at me." She did, and saw complete acceptance and understanding in her grandfather's eyes. "Don't let pride and anger rob you of the next months, Winnie." She nodded, knowing it would be a fight, knowing she didn't particularly care to wage it at the moment.
Henry saw this as well, and it saddened him that Winn would have to make her own stubborn way through life when counsel had already been offered and freely given, but not surprised. His only granddaughter was strong and she loved her husband. All would turn out well. "Play a song for me, Winnie."
"Alright," she whispered, reaching for her recorder. For the past few days, she'd been playing him the hymns that Isabella Morgan had so loved, and while to most those might seem appropriate for the occasion, Winn knew it wasn't. Slowly but steadily, she started playing a song that her father had taught her, a song she'd taught Elizabeth, a song she often caught Jack humming or murmuring under his breath. We extort, we pilfer, we filch, we sack/Drink up me 'earties, yo-ho/ Maraud and embezzle, an even high-jack/Drink up me 'earties, yo-ho/Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirate's life for me . . .
She managed to reach the end just as her grandfather's eyes closed for the last time, managed to hold back tears until then. As the last note died, her eyes closed and the tears came, and she relaxed into the hold of her brothers, resenting the entire time that the arms didn't belong to Jack.
As Kendra stood at the door to Morgan's room, she thought. Death . . . I've seen it plenty, but . . . this hurts so much worse. Kendra closed her eyes and was glad that she hadn't become more attached to Captain Morgan. I don't know if I could keep back tears if that were the case . . .
The pirate watched as Elizabeth helped Winn up the stairs, watched as the woman gathered her strength to enter the room, then looked away. I can't watch . . . this hurts too much. She waited patiently as one group of children after another filed out, mothers hustling them to bed. She saw that Ry came over and closed the door to the Captain's room.
Even though the door to the room was now shut, Kendra stayed, waiting for her charge. The woman hadn't been looking well when she'd gone in, but that was to be expected really. When the notes of a familiar tune started to creep past the door, Kendra clamped her eyes shut, her hand firmly in her pockets to hide the fists. Think positively Kendra . . . he lived a full life. I got to meet him and spend a lot of time with him. He . . . he was impressed with you. Even if he never really knew who or what you were . . . at least he respected the pirate in you.
Slowly she regained control of her emotions and opened her eyes to find Cat and Sarah both waiting for their husbands. A silently mourning, yet cohesive family. How I envy them . . . even in his death. The only family I have is . . . my crew. And even that isn't permanent. Sparrow better get here soon. Or else I'll turn into a weepin' pansy . . . Outside, a storm raged, as if the sea were upset over losing a faithful friend. Goodbye Captain Morgan. Goodbye . . .
The morning of Morgan's funeral was as bright and perfect as anyone could wish. As Winn stood at the recently filled grave, she looked out over the harbor, thinking. This was why he stayed here. This view is why he built the house here. As had happened in the past, Winn had retreated behind a wall of ice to keep from collapsing. Despite having lived like this for so many years, she now found the fit to be uncomfortable, as if she were being squeezed into a mold that didn't suit her.
For another second she stood at the gravesite as the other friends, shipmates, and mourners filed away. Once she was alone, except for Will who had babysitting duty today, she whispered, "Tell Grandmama hello for me." With a simple gesture, she tossed the two birds-of-paradise she held on the grave, then allowed Will to help her back to the house. It upset her that she needed the help, that her legs still weren't convinced they wanted to support her, but what angered her was that she had to depend on the support of others. She had never been one to let others close, and while she'd grown better in that department, she only felt truly comfortable relying on her husband . . . who wasn't here. All her thoughts seemed to revolve back to that one point. Winn knew she was obsessing and that she was upsetting herself for no reason, but she couldn't stop.
"How are you holding up?"
Winn tried to smile but was afraid that her expression was closer to a grimace. "Not as well as it looks like."
"You miss him?"
"Grandfather?" Will nodded. "Yes . . . but . . . that's a bearable pain. Grandfather lived a long and happy life. He was ninety-seven – for a pirate, that's almost unheard of."
"Then what's wrong?"
"What do you think is wrong, Will?"
The blacksmith hesitated for a moment before saying anything. Winn, whether or not she was at full strength or not, was still a force to be reckoned with. However, she was insisting on holding onto misconceptions about Jack's absence. "He's only trying to do what's right by you and the child."
"Everyone thinks Jack is dead. Word has swept the Caribbean in the weeks since we left Port Royal – Gandolfi isn't a threat anymore. How would it hurt to let him think he's won? It can't. There's no need for Jack to go after him."
"But Jack needs to go after him. When Barbossa took Elizabeth, I knew that the Commodore was going to go after her, but that didn't change my need to do something."
"Yes, but you did that to get Liz back. I am back. I'm back and my husband isn't."
"Winn . . . you went after Jack knowing that he wasn't going to be glad to see you and that you were going to placing yourself at risk. But you did it because you love your husband. Jack's doing the same thing you did, except the only person he's placing at risk is himself."
Yes, he's going of by himself, and we all know how well that worked the last time he tried it. Despite this thought, Will's words still stung, although Winn denied that there was any truth to them. "If he loved me, he'd be here."
The two reached the house where most of the guests had already partaken in a first round of rum or ale. Henry Morgan was being remembered and celebrated in the way he would have wanted. Everywhere Winn looked, there were tears and laughter commingled, tales and truths being told. She couldn't stay for this. It was too loud, too busy, to . . . alive. Right now, all she craved was the solitude and safety of her room.
Winn looked around and found that her small shadow had reappeared. "Ken, I'm going to go up to my room for a bit." She didn't want the lad to worry if he couldn't find her. The boy nodded, his hand resting on his belt. He was undoubtedly missing the presence of his cutlass, but weapons had been put away for the day. With so many guests – many of whom were pirates – the Morgans had had to make the choice between banning weapons of alcohol, and they had chosen to go the safer route. "Don't worry about coming up and keeping me company. I just want to be alone for awhile." Ken nodded, but he didn't disappear into the crowd as most cabin boys and all of Winn's nephews would have done. Again Winn felt the suspicion that what she saw was not what she was looking at, that Ken was hiding something, but she tucked it away. That was a mystery best saved for when her mind decided to turn back to the absence of her husband.
Ry had come forward to take Will's place as Winn headed to her room. To get to the closest staircase that would lead upstairs, they had pass through the entrance hall. When they were halfway across the large room, front doors suddenly opened. Winn looked up from her study of her rapidly disappearing feet to see two people she knew in the doorway: her brother and her wayward husband. Marcus only nodded to her before going off to find Grace, but Jack stayed on the threshold, searching her face with his eyes.
The first thing Jack noticed was that despite all Winn's claims to be well, she was leaning rather heavily on her older brother. The second thing he noticed was that she was less than happy to see him. Understandable – her grandfather had just died and he'd been absent for that. But the mask on her face went pass grief and simple anger. No, what he was looking at was something he hadn't seen in five years – the same barrier of ice that'd overtaken her the day they'd gotten engaged. This isn't going to be easy. Jack left the doorway, taking several steps towards his still stunned wife. "Winnie, I'm so – "
Winn shook her head, "Don't touch me, Jack." Her eyes were a flat grey, her voice sharp as a blade. "Just don't."
Okay . . . this is going to more than difficult. Jack didn't stop his advance. If he could just touch her, maybe she'd let go. "Winnie, listen to me."
"No. No." All her anger and feelings of abandonment from the past two weeks rose up in a wave that drowned out everything else. In a single, violent motion, Winn pulled away from her brother and wrenched a pistol from the wall. With confidence and coolness, she pointed it at Jack.
Maybe this wasn't my best idea ever. "Put the gun down, love."
"Are you betting this isn't loaded? Did you assume that they were all here for decoration?" This was a pirate's household, and it was prepared to defend itself. Winn felt bitter laughter welling up inside her, but she stifled it. She was not going to give into hysterics quite yet. "The only way you'll get me to put down this pistol is to hurt me. Are you going to pull your blade, Jack?" The words sounded teasing and challenging at the same time, but Winn's eyes were empty of anything save a bitter cold wall of betrayal. "If you cut me, do you think I'll still bleed?" Jack was silent and she nodded, more to herself than in response to his lack of reply. "Go away, Jack. Leave. That seems to be what you prefer of late."
"Winnie –" Jack was interrupted when the bullet from Winn's pistol flew two inches from his head to imbed itself in the door behind him. He froze. I suppose that wasn't a bluff. Before he could gather his wits and take advantage of her current state of defenselessness, Winn had pulled another pistol from the wall and was holding it in a steady hand.
"You lost any right to dictate to me when you decided I needed a dictator to run my life. Leave, or the next bullet is going to come a lot closer."
There was nothing he could do. Winn wasn't willing to listen to him at the moment. Without another word or a single glance back, Jack turned on his heal and left.
Winn watched him go, watched as a speechless butler closed the door behind her estranged husband, watched as her family stared on in amazement. Still bound in ice, she replaced the pistol she'd taken from the wall and walked up the stairs to her room with her head held high. She was a Morgan. She would not suffer to have someone tell her how to live. Not even her own heart which was shattering somewhere deep inside her, for she'd seen in his eyes that by making a decision to stay on land, she'd severed the only thing holding Jack to her. A vow. What have I done?
Winn knew someone come into her room when the sounds coming up from the downstairs increased. Her grandfather was being sent of in grand pirate style, but she had no heart for it. It's probably just Cat. Or perhaps Elizabeth, she thought. She was standing at her window, looking out at the bay below. "If it's a girl, I thought about naming her 'Abigail.' It means, 'my father's joy.' I think it would be good for my child to know that if their father was here, that he would find joy in them."
"I wouldn't know anything about that."
Winn looked up to see Kendra in her doorway. "Playing messenger again?"
"Perhaps."
A boy wouldn't be nearly as sensitive as to be here on his own. I wonder. . . Winn smiled whimsically, leaving her grief behind for a bit. "So, how long have you been at this?"
Kendra looked over at Winn in confusion. "Been at what?"
"This façade."
"What façade?" Kendra hoped dearly that Winn had suddenly become overcome by grief and was babbling to herself. Somehow though . . . she knew that was not the case. Winn's eyes were too focused to be merely babbling senselessly.
"Is Ken short for something?" Winn looked to Kendra and held her gaze.
Kendra opened her mouth to give a witty retort and then could not pull her eyes away from Winn's. The woman's eyes pleaded for the truth – for something to distract her from her thoughts. Maybe this is how she broke Sparrow . . . She knows, might as well admit to it. Sighing, Kendra blinked and dropped her gaze to the floor. "It's Kendra."
"Ah," Winn nodded and kept her smile. "You really did fool me for a time."
"Feel proud, it took Sparrow quite a few more weeks to figure me out." She hesitantly lifted her gaze.
"Oh?" Winn had to hold back a shiver at her husband's name. "How did you meet Jack anyway?"
"Well . . . it was a few years back. Before he met you, I suppose. We were . . . acquainted."
Winn watched Kendra and was about to press further, but catching a glimpse of Kendra's quick sidelong glances made her hesitate. Kendra seemed calm, but her darting glances gave away her anxiety. Obviously having her well kept secrets come out was not such a pleasant thing for the pirate, and pressing her further may not be a wise decision. The sensation of feeling trapped was one she could relate to at the moment. "I really blew it, Ken."
"You shot at him. I would say so."
Winn tried to laugh, but it came out as a strangled sob. "All I wanted was to have him with me, but when he showed up . . . I lost it."
Kendra hesitated with what to do next. Something inside her told her to try to comfort the woman . . . but how? She was not one familiar with comfort . . . she'd grown up a pirate for cryin' out loud. "Well, take some time for yourself. Let your emotions calm a bit. I can talk to him if you'd like . . . or do you want me to stay here with you? If . . ." she bit her lip for a moment, then forced a smile. "If you need someone to talk to or cry or anything, I'm here for you."
Winn saw the plain discomfort on the small pirate's face, and despite her own misery, had to smile. "Thank you, but what I need now is my husband. If he's even on the island still. I wouldn't blame him if he'd left." Her eyes started leaking tears which she angrily swiped at. "I can't even follow him this time."
Kendra nodded. "Aye, ma'am. You hold yourself together and I'll go track down that husband of yours." She stood up straight. "Even if I have to go France and back to do it."
Winn almost protested, suddenly scared that seeing Jack might not be the best thing after all, but Kendra was already gone from the room. I'm so sorry, she thought. I need you, Jack. Left with no other choice, she sat down in a chair to wait.
Kendra rushed downstairs, and spotted Alex standing with a group of acquaintances. "Smuggler! I need your assistance!" Kendra had gone into captain mode and snapped it out like an order.
Alex looked at what he still believed to be a small cabin boy. He was amazed by the lad's audacity . . . but then again, when you were that short, one needed a certain boldness to get by, he supposed. "And just what could be so important that you need me?"
"I need your horse. Sparrow got chased off by Winn, and now I'm to track him down. If you don't take me, I'll take Lucy myself." Kendra watched as the man she was addressing tried to contain laughter. She didn't understand what was causing it though. True, this was a pirate funeral and half the guests were drunk, but she could see nothing funny about the woman upstairs and the man too stubborn to come back to a good thing. "Do not mock me, smuggler!" Kendra snapped and drew her cutlass, holding it to Alex's neck. "You will either take me to your horse or I will take it myself. Which would you prefer?"
Alex simply smiled again as he came over and shoved Kendra towards the door with a hand on her shoulder. "For your information, sprout, I wasn't laughing at you. I was laughing because once again I'm helping Freddy with her equally stubborn husband."
Kendra nodded stiffly, unhappy to find herself propelled forward by this man so easily, but also made curious by his comment. Instead of asking for more information though, she simply said, "Don't call me sprout."
Jack was sitting in a corner of one of the local taprooms. He had a mug of rum in front of him, but he hadn't touched it yet. This was one time where falling asleep for extended periods of time wouldn't affect the situation that'd sent him here to tend his wounds.
His wife . . . the woman he'd given up his bachelorhood for, the woman who was pregnant with his child . . . had shot a pistol at him. And threatened to do it again. And told him to leave. So why was he still here? Why hadn't he found passage to Wright Isle and taken command there? By the time his ship was whole, perhaps Winnie would have calmed down enough to speak to him.
He knew the reason he hadn't left.
It was that he would miss everything. He'd miss watching Winn grow round with his child. He'd miss supporting her as she gave birth. He'd miss seeing her hold their child for the first time. He'd even miss not knowing what'd she say next since her emotions were in a uproar.
So what am I going to do? Go to the house every day and wait for her to shoot me? I understand why she's upset. I wasn't there to hold her when she lost her grandfather, but why doesn't she understand that I was eliminating a greater threat to the three of us? Jack looked up from his drink as a shadow fell over his table.
"How's the rum?" Kendra asked, sitting in the chair across from him. Kendra waited for him to reply, but felt herself pity the pirate sitting across from her. He looked exhausted . . . he had been through his fair share of trouble recently. And there was just a sense of . . . pain and suffering hanging around him. He's miserable. Guess casual conversation won't work. Might as well cut to the chase. Clearing her throat, Kendra pushed the rum to the side and leaned on the table, meeting Sparrow's gaze. "We're going back."
"You're welcome to go back, Pierre, but the last I heard, Winn had washed her hands of me."
She growled and leaned closer. "Not what she told me. And if I have to knock ye over the head and drag you back, I will."
"What'd'ye mean, that's not what she told you? Why would she confide in a cabin boy?"
Kendra rolled her eyes and sat back. "My secret's out. To her at least. She figured out that I'm a skirt, somehow. She was a bit more amiable to one of her own sex." Jack raised his head in acknowledgement, but didn't rise from his seat. Kendra sighed in frustration. "We're going, Sparrow. I will make good on my offer previous."
"You're too short to frog march anything but an ant, munchkin."
Kendra grinned, "Yes, but I brought backup." She nodded her head towards Alex, who was standing by the far wall.
"Bloody busybody."
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I hate to say it, but I am just too tired to do individual reviews tonight. It's getting close to midnight, I've been skimping on sleep, and I still have some homework to finish. But know that I did read each and every review, that I loved them all, took all comments and suggestions to heart, and I'll get to personal replies next chapter. Promise.
Erica Dawn
Siremaik
Dawnie-7
bobo3
Golden Rose3
Lila Elensar
Breeze – welcome to the fold! As a new reviewer, you can rock my new bottle of CucumberMelon lotion
Eledhwen
aLNiCa – welcome to you as well. New reviewers always make my day, and you are no exception. You can rock my mini-pic of Finding Nemo.
VagrantCandy
SuzzieQue
Curiosity Inc.
pirate-miss
NightSkyFlight
TaraRose
Clover the Sea-Beast
Blue Trinity
Alli – ugh. Bad grammar – written bad grammar – is one of my biggest pet peeves. Hate it. And Norrington . . . I was really rather neutral on him until I saw the deleted scenes – and then I became a supporter of him. Because you've found yourself trapped by an ice storm, you can rock my really heavy wool socks that I'm thinking about putting on because my window is open and my feet are cold. ^_^
BeBe
georgie b
lilitaliandragon
pendragginink – again, amazed by the time you put in to review. Again, took some things into consideration. You are amazing, woman.
KawaiiRyu
RadioActiveSocks
Piper8188 – thank you so much for the nice complements. I know I could point out several fics that I think are better than mine, but I won't. ^_^ I really am running out of things to rock, but you can rock the atlas that's come in so handy during this story.
