Disclaimer: I don't even own the bloody calculus book that I've fallen asleep over on more than one occasion, so who's really going to believe me if I say I own this?
AN: Again, thanks for all the wonderful reviews! It seems that I've now recovered most of the people who fell overboard in confusion *sighs in relief* so we can continue on-ward . . .as soon as the muse decides to come back to this point in the story and explain how he gets from here to the two places he's in . . .he really enjoys teleporting around the plot . . .*sighs again, this time in frustration* Glad you all liked the flashbacks, I was a tiny bit worried about them. Thanks also for well-wishes for my family and for me. Also, this chapter isn't nearly as long as the last one . . .apologies to those who enjoyed the longer format.
To Love and Protect
Part 11
Will slipped quietly through the wooden door and into the forge, his mouth twitching into a small grin as the familiar heat and humidity washed over his body, causing his throat to constrict slightly. No rhythmic pounding of the hammer had reached his ears, so he knew that while Robert was present, he was not actually working metal and would be available to talk.
The other blacksmith occupied a wooden chair, his feet crossed at the ankles and resting on the anvil in front of him. His brown hair was secured with a leather strap, and his shirt was only half-buttoned, displaying a muscular chest and shoulders with skin just a shade darker than Jack's. A gentle scraping and sighing filled the room as he studiously worked at putting the final edge on the sword he had been forging.
Robert thought that he was six, maybe seven, years older than Will, though the other man wasn't certain of his birth date. He had been orphaned at a young age, first taken in by the church and then apprenticed to the original blacksmith, who had left the forge to him before dying of consumption six years ago. Robert had been hesitant to take on an assistant, let alone an eventual partner, but he had needed the help, and Brian's vote of confidence in Will's abilities and personality had finally convinced him.
The two men had gotten along exceedingly well, both of them being very able in their craft, though Robert freely admitted that Will was by far his superior when it came to making weapons. Still, there was something . . .unique . . .exhilarating . . .about completing a sword and seeing your work in another's (hopefully) skilled hand, so the two men traded off on the sword orders, though Robert ascertained that Will took all of the exceptionally important ones.
"Hello, Will. I was wondering if you were going to make an appearance today." The rhythmic scraping didn't miss a beat as the man removed his feet from the anvil and leaned forward, staring hard at Will.
Will frowned slightly, wondering what Robert was getting at. He wasn't late by any normal sense of the word, though he supposed that he was perhaps a quarter-hour later than was customary for him. He hadn't been able to help lingering long enough to see Ana-Maria and ascertain that Jack was well. Other than the half-day of work he had skipped last week, the day that Hallson told him Jack was dead, his record over the past four years was sterling.
Still, if Robert wanted him in the shop for some reason, he would have to stay, or arouse suspicion. Suspicion was the last thing he needed at the moment.
"I was actually wondering if it would be possible for me to stay at home today. Elizabeth isn't feeling well, and I don't wish to leave her alone with the children. Jack just returned yesterday, and he's rather . . .exuberant, to say the least. Some of the things he learned, and all under his god-father's eyes . . ."
Robert laughed softly, leaning back in his chair again. "If you want to remain at home, Will, just say so. I'm perfectly capable of keeping things together here. Just work on your lies a bit more, that's all."
"Lies?" Now Will was entirely lost. The only thing he was lying about was the fact that he was harboring two pirates in his house, and there shouldn't be any way that Robert would know that. They had been careful.
"Last week, when you asked for leave to return home . . .which you really don't need, you know, considering we're full partners and all now, though it was kind of you to ask . . .well, I thought something was up then. I know you, Will Turner. Can't be friends and partners with a man for four years and not know how he normally acts. If it had been Elizabeth who was sick, you would've sent young Ana to tell me, and if it had been Ana who was sick, nobody would have come to tell me, unless you could flag a neighbor down. At first I thought maybe you were sick, but you didn't look too sick . . .a bit distant, a bit glazed and shocked, but not sick, and not physically hurt. I trusted you had your reasons, though, so I let it go at that."
Will kept his gaze carefully neutral, with a slight hint of puzzlement, the soft, rhythmic sighing becoming almost hypnotic as a worm of fear crawled through his gut. "I don't understand what you're getting at."
"Well, like I said, I let it go . . .for the afternoon. Then I went down to the tavern, had a few drinks with the men who came in on the Defender, and I understood. There was no way it could have been anybody but Hallson who told you, and at the time I thought it was a right bloody bastard of a man who tells you something like that so that you've got to try to hide how you're hurting and be strong or come out looking like you're on the wrong side of the law. I thought about going to see how you and your family were doing, but I didn't really have any right to your grief, and I didn't want you to feel you had to hide from me, too. So I stayed away, and you came in the next day and you seemed all right, if a little . . .distant."
"I still don't know what you're talking about." The worm of fear was starting to blossom into something closer to panic, but he quickly distanced his mind from that emotion, remembering all too well the effect it had had the previous night on the pirate captain.
"Everyone knows your story, both of them, well, three of them, now, if you count the one that's been filtering in for the last four years that you won't confirm or deny. We've known the first two ever since that young Captain Lanebridges was posted here. Add to that the way you react to hangings, and the way you've been wandering around the taverns with the incoming sailors for the past year, and the way you talk about pirates as two different types, and the few comments you make about him specifically, and it isn't hard to see that you care for the man. I could understand you grieving. Now, though, young Lanebridges, the very same young man who was proud to be scarred defending a 'pirate and a good man', his ship makes port, and the next morning you're back to your normal self but asking for leave to stay home . . .I'm not stupid, Will. You have him. He made it."
"The only person I 'have' off of Brian Lanebridges' ship is my son. I don't know who else you're getting at."
"See, now you're the one acting stupid, Will. Any man would have figured out who I'm talking about by now, and I'm certain you have." Robert stopped working and stood to stare at Will, taking a few idle swipes with the sword before setting it down, apparently satisfied with his work. "I don't actually know anything, of course, and you telling me that you have him would be foolish, but I still think I'm right. Go ahead and go home, Will Turner. I promise the shop will still be standing and your job still here when you return."
Will stood frozen for a moment, studying Robert's face, trying to discern what the other man was thinking. Finally giving up, he nodded. "Thank you, Robert. I should be in tomorrow, as Elizabeth's illness is not too severe."
"Glad to hear it." Will turned to leave, freezing with his hand on the door as Robert spoke again. "If half of the stories about him are true, especially the ones with you and Brian in them, and if he does have your friendship . . .well, then, he has to be a fairly decent man. I hope he's all right."
Will turned his head and nodded slowly. "So do I, Robert."
Slipping out the door and striding off towards home, he found himself both troubled and relieved by what the other blacksmith had guessed and said.
"So do I."
* * *
Jack woke slowly, a disturbingly familiar sense of disorientation welcoming him back to full consciousness. Keeping his eyes closed and his breathing even, he attempted to decide where he was.
There wasn't any comforting rocking movement, so he wasn't aboard ship. The bed was too comfortable and the bedding too nice for it to be any of his usual haunts on Tortuga. There weren't all that many other places that he would willingly stay aground, and of those, Will's house seemed to be the safest option at the moment . . .
Will's house. Jack cursed quietly in as many different languages as he could think of as everything came back. His ship was on the bottom of the sea and the one who had sent her there was still alive and well.
That would never do.
Jack rolled over onto his back, a low moan of pain escaping as he scraped the still-healing gash along the sheets. If he wasn't careful, it was never going to heal properly.
Ana-Maria was gone, though she had removed his boots and covered him with a blanket before leaving. He attempted for a few moments to remember if he had woken when she left, then gave up, deciding that it didn't really matter. Without her there to notice any wayward sounds of pain, though, it was safe to do a complete physical inventory.
His left knee ached slightly, but he was fairly certain that it was due simply to the fact that, despite his protests to Jacob, Time had decided he wasn't to be immortal, after all. For a man in his mid-forties . . .he was fairly certain it was forty-something . . .he wasn't in bad shape, his hair still black as it had always been, very few lines on his face, his joints still all functional, not twisted and gnarled as some men's became, all of his limbs still attached . . .aye, for a man who had survived well over twenty years of piracy and was continuing as a pirate, he was in very good shape.
The stiffness and the ache would disappear with a bit of stretching and rubbing, and he would be damned before he limped on it in front of Will. The lad had taken everything that happened during his ordeal with the Brotherhood, all that he had done under Nerla's influence, far too much to heart for his own good.
Nothing else seemed to ache in his arms or legs, and he took that as a minor blessing. His back burned slightly, but it was a pain that was definitely manageable.
Closing his eyes again, he slowly inhaled through his nose, stopping just short of a coughing fit, sighing slightly with relief as he exhaled. For the first few days after Ana-Maria had pulled him from the water, breathing had been difficult, his chest feeling tight and heavy, but that, too, seemed to be passing into obscurity, something that he was extremely grateful for. Dying from lack of air on dry ground was not something he wanted to try.
His head was the last thing that he turned his attention to, slowly rotating his neck to loosen the muscles, raising his left hand to gently pat at the bandage. Though the skin around the stitches still itched slightly, there didn't seem to be any sign of the pounding, vicious pain that had laid him out yesterday.
Yes, all in all, he would say that he was doing much better.
There had been something else, though, about yesterday . . .and something during the night . . .something that he should remember . . .something . . .frightening . . .
Jack quickly shook the thought from his mind, climbing uncertainly to his feet before finding his balance. God, he hated being on dry land, especially since he and Ana-Maria had come together, taking away one of his major reasons for spending long periods of time in port. He knew enough to allow his crew sufficient time to relax, and he could usually be found with Ana-Maria and other acquaintances at one or another of the taverns, but he still liked being aboard ship best, and it was a common thing for him to make his way back to the Pearl to sleep so long as he was capable of doing so.
Had. Had been a common thing. The pirate captain growled low in his throat, cursing Michael again to all the varied hells he could think of. The man was definitely going to regret his actions when Jack caught up to him.
* * *
Will forced himself to stop pacing as he waited for the pirate captain to wake, rubbing his right hand up and down his left arm to help siphon off some of the tension he was feeling. He really wasn't looking forward to trying to explain this to Jack, but Elizabeth had managed to conjure a very believable disappearing act, taking the children and Ana-Maria to market, gently but firmly telling Will that when they returned, he had to have informed the pirate captain of everything he knew about the link.
He would feel better about the prospect if the pirate captain was conscious, for one, and if he could actually still feel the link, for another. There hadn't been a stray thought or emotion that could be attributed to the pirate since yesterday, and even then it seemed to have been more Will affecting Jack than Jack affecting Will. As for his explanation . . .well, something that had seemed thin by the early morning light was looking more and more moth-eaten by the moment. Without any proof . . .if madness was catching, then he had definitely caught it, and he doubted that Jack would see it any differently.
Will sighed, realizing he was pacing again.
When was the pirate going to get up?!
Even as the thought flitted through his mind, Will regretted it. Jack had never been one to just sit and laze in bed. The only other time Will could remember the pirate sleeping much later than Will himself, the man had been half-dead. Even after the fiasco with the brotherhood, Jack had seemed to need little sleep . . .or at least he had sought out little sleep. If Jack was willingly resting, then it was necessary, and impatience would have to wait its turn in line.
Will stopped pacing again as a low creak informed him that the door to his daughter's room was opening.
The pirate was barefoot, but he had taken the time to find his sword and pistol and strap them to his side. Will supposed he could take it as an affront to his honor, a sign that the pirate didn't trust him to keep him safe, but he was actually more relieved than hurt. If Jack was conscious enough to arm himself, he was in better shape than Will had feared.
"Good morning, Jack."
"Mornin', Will." The pirate hesitated a
moment, staring around the main room.
"Where is ev'ryone?"
"Elizabeth took the children with her to market in an attempt to keep them out of trouble. Ana-Maria went along to ascertain that they really do stay out of trouble."
"Is that safe?"
Will smiled, recognizing the veiled concern in the pirate's voice. "It should be. She isn't nearly as well-known as you are, and she tends to be less . . .conspicuous."
Jack grinned slightly, the gesture reassuring Will even more that the pirate was doing well. "I can't help it if people are naturally drawn to look at me."
"Drawn, yes. Naturally, perhaps." Jack didn't answer, scratching lightly at the stubble that had grown on his face overnight. "Would you like a razor, Jack?"
"Thank you, Will, but I have one and am quite capable of shaving . . .if I wish to." Will nodded, watching the pirate closely.
Jack stared back, a scowl slowly forming on his face at Will's continuing silence and close observation. "Y'know, I'm not goin' t' keel over and just die on you. Ye can stop watchin' me like that."
"Sorry, Jack."
"You should be, lad. Have a bit of faith, won't you? I'm still Captain Jack Sparrow, ship or no ship."
Will restrained himself from commenting on the fact that he had seen 'Captain Jack Sparrow' dead and near-death on more occasions than he would care to remember, the past night being the foremost in his mind.
"Will?" The blacksmith drew his gaze up from the floor, forcing a grin as he tried to decide how to steer the conversation in the direction he wished it to go. With Jack, this was going to be incredibly difficult. "Not to interrupt your deep thinking or anything, I commend you on it, but you wouldn't happen to have anything to eat on hand, would you?"
Will mentally kicked himself for forgetting that Jack hadn't eaten anything in at least twelve hours, probably more. "Oh, Jack, I'm sorry. We saved some breakfast for you."
"You're sorry you saved breakfast for me?" The soft lilt to the pirate's voice told Will that he was only playing, but the blacksmith couldn't help blushing slightly anyway. When Jack wanted someone off-balance, he could get them there and keep them there for a very long time.
"Exactly, Jack. I'm sorry we saved breakfast for you." Will reminded himself firmly that he was supposed to be the one leading the conversation. "In the kitchen." Will grimaced as Jack turned away.
This really wasn't getting off to a very good start.
The blacksmith watched the pirate carefully as he followed him into the kitchen and towards the dinner table, where a plate with bacon, sausage, mangos, bananas, and rolls had been left next to a glass of watered-down rum. Jack walked with his usual half-stagger, which Will knew from previous experience was part affectation and part an unconscious response to being stranded on land that didn't tilt in random patterns. The pirate was holding his head relatively still, though, and he seemed to be limping slightly on his left leg. Neither action would have been obvious if Will wasn't watching for signs of pain.
Will sat with the pirate in silence for a few minutes, his fingers tapping random rhythms on the table. When Jack's attentiveness to the food seemed to have dropped to a less-than-obsessive level, he opened his mouth to speak . . .
And promptly shut it again. Damn it, this was not working. If he had some proof that the link was still present, at least . . .
Jack swallowed, looking quizzically at Will. "What?"
The blacksmith shrugged, dropping his gaze from the pirate's, and paused in consideration. Jack's sleeve cuffs were unbuttoned, and the sleeves had fallen back from his arms, giving Will a perfect view of the pirate brand and sparrow tattoo.
He gestured towards the pirate's arm. "Where'd you get that?"
Jack looked down at his arm and then back to Will, more puzzlement obvious in his face. "Why?"
"Just curious."
The pirate continued to stare at him a moment longer before grinning and relaxing again as he tore another roll in half. "Which one?"
"Either one." Jack tilted his head in consideration, his grin widening as he opened his mouth. Will cut him off before he could start talking. "But I want the real story. No mermaids, sea turtles, giant whales, fairies, leprechauns, gnomes, elves, or unicorns."
The pirate laughed. "I've never used unicorns in one of my stories."
"Well, you can't decide to now." The pirate shrugged, his face neutral, but Will thought that he could sense exasperation and . . .sorrow? It was the first hint he had received that the link still worked, and it wasn't all that impressive.
Perhaps a stronger stimulus was needed. "What about the Pearl?"
"What about her?" Jack's face and voice displayed total confusion as he stared at Will, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. Keeping his own emotions as calm as he could, Will managed to catch a faint but distinct impression of grief.
"Ana-Maria said that she sank because one of your crew was a traitor." Will realized even as he finished speaking that the pirate might take it as an accusation, a stab at his competence as captain, but he didn't get a chance to apologize or rephrase the comment.
There was no mistaking the fact that the emotion belonged to the pirate. Will had never felt anything to be as strongly alien as the sensation that tore through his head as soon as he finished speaking.
Bloodlust. Pure, unadulterated hatred and bloodlust.
Will knew the first stages of both emotions. He had hated Barbosa for taking Elizabeth, for threatening his own life, but he had also felt a strange sense of pity for the man. He had hated Almorte for what he did to Jack, but he hadn't had a chance to really dwell on the hatred, the necessity of caring for the pirate outweighing everything else. He had hated Marcus and the Brotherhood, but that had also been tainted by pity and understanding. The closest he had ever come to hating with the same deep, dark intensity that flooded his thoughts now was his attitude towards Nerla, but even that had been tinged with something akin to compassion as the sword lamented the loss of its homeland and gods.
Even when he hated, though, he had never felt the keen hunger for blood. He would have gladly taken Barbosa into custody and watched the man swing from the gallows. His sword had been aimed at the assassin's arm, not his chest. The last words he spoke to Marcus had almost been in friendship. Never had he felt the strong, burning need to inflict pain and cause slow death that invaded his thoughts now.
Will reacted instinctively to the foreign emotion, his own horror, repulsion, and alarm drowning out the unwanted voice.
Jack reeled back as though he had been punched, his face paling noticeably beneath his dark tan. Before Will could think to move, the pirate was up and heading towards the main room of the house and the exit, his stagger definitely more pronounced and less affected.
"Jack, I'm sorry . . .I didn't mean that . . .Jack . . ." Will grabbed the pirate's right shoulder and spun him around, earning a small hiss of pain as his hand landed on the still-healing cut.
"Ye 'ave no right t' be 'n m' head, Will Turner, an' if ye're goin' t' be there, ye've no righ' t' judge. If ye're plannin' on judgin', I'm plannin' on leavin'."
"No, don't. I know, Jack, I didn't have any right. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I just wasn't prepared . . ." Will allowed his regret to crowd to the front of his mind, coupling it with his concern for the pirate, willing Jack to understand.
The pirate tilted his head to one side in consideration before nodding and sighing. "I'm sorry, too, lad. Didn't know that would happen . . .What exactly did happen?" The pirate captain's voice and gaze were sharp again, though his eyes were carefully hooded.
"It's a—"
"Long story. I know. You never were good at telling short ones. It's the pirate in you, even if it couldn't override that honest streak of yours."
"Three times bound by blood and word. Nerla mentioned something about it, but I forgot, though I think I can be forgiven given the circumstances."
"If ye mean my dying and being resurrected and all that, yes, I'd say those count as extenuating circumstances."
"In the caves, with Barbosa, when I cut myself . . .I had your blood on my hand. Some of it got into the cut. Then, on the Dauntless, when you let me bandage your hand, I promised that I'd help you escape. One time bound by blood and promises. You probably don't remember, but a week after the fiasco with Almorte, when you were still delirious, you cut me and drew blood. I wiped it away with the same cloth I was using to wash you down, injuries and all, and apparently some of my blood got into your veins. You were in bad shape, Jack, really bad shape. You were talking to my father, and you were talking to yourself, and you kept saying that you should die, that you should already be dead, and you almost did die. I thought you'd finally given up. I promised that I wasn't going to leave you, that all you had to do was call and I'd come."
Jack stared at a spot somewhere over Will's left shoulder, his voice a lilting whisper. "I remember that. Always remember when he's there. Almost had me that time, he did. Played me 'gainst m'self, and he almost won, but he hadn't counted on you bein' there."
"He?"
Jack raised his eyes to meet Will's gaze, grinning again. "Death, lad. You must've met him by now . . .or her, depending on how you're going."
Will decided not to comment, keeping his confusion at a minimum, hoping to keep the pirate from sensing it. "Anyway, that was the second time. The third time—"
"The third time was when you killed me. We had enough blood there to bind an army. The result of these three things is this . . .link." Will nodded. "And I initiated it by calling you."
"I would have come if I could, Jack."
The pirate smiled. "I know you would have. You didn't need to, though. We made it out all right. How well does this work?"
"I'm not sure. Yesterday, when you were sick . . ."
"You were rather upset. I knew there was something strange going on. Guess I'm not quite so mad as I was beginning to think."
"The calmer I am, the easier it is to sense what you're feeling. The stronger the emotion you're feeling, the easier it is for me to sense it."
"Can you block it out entirely?"
"I haven't tried. I can out-shout you emotionally, though, as demonstrated yesterday and a few minutes ago, and then I can't tell what you're feeling."
"No, then I get the joy of seeing into your piratical but honorable mind. And people think I'm insane . . .Does it just work with bad things, anger, pain, terror, horror?"
Will felt himself blushing. "Not . . .quite."
Jack's grin slowly widened as he looked at Will. "'Not . . .quite?' So if I'm thinking about, say, Ana-Maria . . ."
"Jack!" Will turned his mind towards Elizabeth to drown out the link, decided that was definitely a bad idea, thought about his children, remembered what Jack had taught his son, decided that, too, was a bad idea, and settled on seeing if he could build up some sort of bloodlust against Hallson that would rival what the pirate captain felt for Michael.
The pirate captain laughed. "This is definitely going to be interesting."
* * *
"You're certain it's him? Absolutely positive, beyond a shadow of a doubt, willing to stake your life on the fact that it's him?"
Michael watched the commodore pace, relaxing in the upholstered chair across from Hallson's desk, his right foot resting on his left thigh and his hands folded over his knee.
"I'm positive it was him. It's hard to forget a man that you've killed . . .or thought you had killed. Besides, he had his whore with him."
Hallson stopped his frantic pacing for a moment. "Whore?"
"Aye, only female on the crew, spent all her nights in his cabin . . .can't think what else she might have been, but his personal whore."
"Did you recognize any other crewmen with them?"
"They weren't with any other crewmen. They were following a boy."
Hallson resumed his pacing. "Boy? What did he look like?"
Michael shrugged. Why should Hallson care what their guide looked like? "Dressed like a cabin boy, brown hair with red highlights, well-tanned . . .I don't know, he looked like any other sailor's whelp."
"Turner's whelp. Damn it, this is all Lanebridges' fault . . .I knew the boy was insane, but not this insane . . .let's me get him for treason, this does . . .oh, aye, try to frighten me, the little upstart bastard . . .try to take my position . . ."
Michael listened with growing concern as Hallson continued to talk to himself as he paced. When Michael first agreed to help the commodore bring in Sparrow, he had found the man to be obnoxious and paranoid, but not out-and-out insane.
"What are we going to do about Sparrow?"
Hallson brought his head up, though he didn't stop his pacing. "Kill him, of course. Public hanging. Yes, that would do. People don't come back from the dead when their necks are broken."
"He doesn't come back from the dead anyway. He's completely human . . .the damned luckiest human, when it comes to help from the Sea, but human nonetheless." Michael was really starting to doubt the wisdom of coming to Hallson.
"You'll help me see to it, of course, and I'll pay you for it. Once I have his body actually in hand, I'll give you twice whatever I gave you last time."
Michael grinned and uncurled himself from the chair with cat-like caution. Twice what he had gotten before for taking care of loose ends. This he could handle, even if it did entail working for a man who seemed to be steadily losing whatever sanity he had once had to paranoia.
"When and where?"
"At the Turner's house, tonight, when they'll all be there . . .yes, perfect, when they're all there . . .maybe even catch Lanebridges with them, in the act, consorting with known pirates . . ."
The mercenary let himself out of the office and nodded to the guard who stood outside the door. Going after a pirate captain that wanted his head he could handle. Listening to a man who was descending deeper and deeper into madness with each passing moment, though . . .
That was something else entirely, and definitely not something Michael was up to doing.
Responses to Reviews:
Ginny-Star: *blushes* Hmm, I guess I do have a lot of reviews. I'm glad you liked the little flashback sequences, as I had a lot of fun writing them.
Aratfeniel: Yes, that was definitely an exceedingly long chapter. I'm glad you like the concept . . .it took some mental limbo to find it . . .
Elf-Vulcan: Thank you, both for saying you like the stories and for praying for my family. I'm very grateful.
Hollow-Ambitions: *blushes exceedingly hard* I have readers who talk about me on AIM? Who wish to see my fics on the big screen? Who think I've written it better than people could act it? Wow. I've never been so flattered in my life. I'm glad you like the second memory. I'm rather partial to it, m'self.
JackFan2: I can't quit. I tried to, but I was going even more insane than I already am, so I'm continuing, and will probably finish the story . . .the muse is going to make it exceedingly long (he gave me a bit of insight on the way home from the football game . . .rather like getting run over by a mental semi, it was) . . .we're only, like, a third of the way done here. *sighs* Man, this epic is going to last the whole school year at this rate . . .*ponders* . . .This could be good . . .
Rinkufan: Losing TV shows is horrible, too. If they canceled CSI, the only show I watch but that I watch obsessively, I would probably decide enough was enough and never get out of bed again. Yep, you seem to understand the link thing fairly well . . .I'll be evolving the idea throughout the story, and hopefully I won't lose anyone . . .
Empress Ariana: Glad that you understand and weren't bothered by the length! Thanks for the vote of confidence in my reasoning abilities.
ScannerCatScat: Oh . . .so sorry . . .about the name . . .forgive me? About the request about a good ending and what defines one . . .this could be complicated . . .what the muse is seeing could be construed as a good ending, or a bad ending . . .can't say any more, it will give spoilers . . .
Nikara: I'm so glad it makes sense! Thank you for the compliment, and for the prayers. I think they're helping . . .*crosses fingers and prays herself* . . .
Startide Risen: Yeah! Teachers can definitely be twisted and evil . . .my calc homework is currently staring at my back . . .and will continue to do so for a while yet . . .I liked writing the flashbacks, it was fun to re-immerse myself in my old plots! It gave me a chance to do the Will and Elizabeth scene without having to change my other fic, which is good, and I'm glad you liked it.
Soappuppy: Oh . . .I . . .stupid feel . . .I know that verb thing . . .have been missing it in all fics . . .Why didn't someone shout at me before?! Damn you, silent letters in the English language! I'll be careful from now on, and I'll go fix it eventually . . .kind of wrecks the meaning of the sentences, hmmm? Glad you liked it enough to go back and re-read it, mistakes and all!
Lavender Wonder: I'm sorry about your friend! One of my clarinetists got into a car accident, rolled the car, tore up her foot pretty badly . . .If these things don't stop happening, I'll never set foot inside a car or near a road again. I'm glad this cleared things up, though! It really is strange, though, how three is such an important number across so many different cultures . . .*ponders* . . .
Stacca: Oh, yeah, novel on the way . . .after this epic is done . . .Thanks for reading, reviewing, and linking! I miss the Pearl, too . . .
RosePetal2001: Thank you for your vote of confidence and prayers. I plan on keeping writing in an attempt to keep what remains of my sanity. Whether the plot will work or not is still a toss-up.
Cal: Yes, it was very long. I couldn't decide where to cut it, so I just left it long. Yes, Nerla is creepy . . .and knowledgeable. Hope you liked Jack's reaction . . .hope it is believable . . .I liked that first flashback, too . . .I liked them all, actually . . .then again, I'm not really an impartial judge here . . .
Ferntree: Thank you for reading and for the compliments! I like the pictures, too.
Zinnith: Yes, at the moment, writing is sanity . . .well, more sane than reality, at least. Your review makes perfect sense, and I'm flattered that I almost made you cry. *ponders last sentence* I don't think that came out quite the way I wanted it to, but you should get the gist of it. Good luck on your original fic!
Erinya: Isn't the logical realm of the supernatural so much fun to play in? I'm glad you like my Elizabeth. She'll have more parts to play as the fic progresses . . .*sob* . . .this fic is going to be so incredibly long . . .so complicated . . .so many plot details to figure out . . .*collects self* . . .All better now. Glad you liked the first flashback.
Erin: *grins with relief* So glad that I managed to live up to expectations! I'll try to do it again. *looks worried*
Pirate Gyrl: Well, the ending of this fic isn't looking like it'll leave anyone in suspense . . .get me and my bloody muse lynched, but not leave anyone in suspense . . .Thanks for the vote of confidence and the sympathy.
Starzangel: I'm really glad you think that this is a good explanation, and that you liked the flashbacks! I have a rough idea where the story is heading . . .several destination points, but no connecting dots at the moment, but we'll figure it out eventually.
Greenleaf-In-Bloom: Glad you liked it! Hope you like the more!
Szhismine: Glad you like the chapter. I hope this clear up lingering confusion about the link. As for the uprising, the men want to get rid of Hallson and put Brian in charge, only they haven't asked poor Brian yet if he wants to be in charge.
Lunatic: Nope, didn't plan it this way. Was sitting, wracking brain trying to figure out how the link was possible, when I realized there were three stories and that three is a common number in superstition. A quick 'net search assured me that basically all cultures share some superstition about three, and it's usually a good number or a magic number, not a bad number (like four), so I had my explanation. I'm glad that you think it's smart. I was rather worried about it. Sorry about your computer. I would definitely cry if mine died.
Belia: I'm glad that you found my work. Your entire review makes sense. I know I have grammatical stuff to go back and fix, but proofing is hard for me, and taking the time to go back and post revised chapter even harder. I swear I'll do it eventually! Really! I might go back eventually and do fics in the time frames between my stories. At the moment, this is eating all my spare time, and it is looking to be exceedingly long . . .*sigh* . . .I really hope you guys like epics.
Ryuu Angel: I love your reviews! Really, I do! I'm going to major in veterinary medicine if I ever get into college, so we're kind of similar in majors. I'm fairly certain 'trigony' is a word . . .maybe . . .if it wasn't, it is now. Rambling is good! So far the only major problem I have in Spanish is remembering what the verbs mean . . .I can conjugate them all nice and lovely, but I have no idea what they are, and I'm fairly certain that problem isn't related to lanyard-staring . . .fairly certain . . .As for your humor, I have a friend who truly has the strange humor market cornered. I had her and a bunch of Center friends over to watch FotR once, and it was her first time, and she cracks up laughing when Frodo gets stabbed. She was practically dying when Bilbo does his little transformation and tries to grab the ring from Frodo. Boromir's death scene can never be looked on the same again (though she didn't laugh during the extended version . . .the extra little clips with Aragorn earned him her respect). Then, in TTT, when Theoden is mourning Theodred . . .she was okay for the first part, then starts cracking up as he's crying and gives as an excuse 'they dragged the scene on too long'. That is an odd sense of humor. I was trying to make some of the Will/Nerla interaction slightly amusing, so it's all right to laugh at it, so long as you got the serious aspects, too, which I'm sure you did. Also, about the hat . . .it cost HOW MUCH?! God, I could buy a half-year of college with that and I've killed it twice now . . .*sobs* . . .How can I resurrect it and sell it? Okay, response is again getting exceedingly long. If I missed something, hit me with it in a review again!
