Title: Dragonfly

Author: Muse a.k.a. Viorith

Rating: R for sexual content and violence.

Pairing: Will/OFC, Jack/Anna-Maria

Feedback: Hell to the yeah!

Archive: Ask first please_

Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with PoTC, I'm just playing with them. I do own Sabine. So please ask if you want to play with her.

Summary: Sabine has loved Will since she was 16, but since his eyes were for Elizabeth only, she settled for his friendship. A year after the curse is lifted, Sabine now needs him to teach her the way of the blade so she can avenge her father's death on a man that once called himself his friend.

Chapter 15

Sabine stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her curly hair was washed and neatly arranged atop her head, so the tight ringlets cascaded down the sides, accentuating her cheekbones. Covering her freshly scrubbed body, was a peach hued dinner dress complete with a matching shawl and hat that remained on the bed near the box the dress had arrived it.

Anna-Maria had delivered the garment, after receiving it from Oliver's man as he had promised. It took her nearly an hour to convince Sabine to go to dinner, and nearly and hour after that to get everything fitted into the corset and dress, and to style her hair just so.

"He will be insane with jealous," Anna-Maria informed admiring her partial creation from the side of the mirror.

"Even if I did wish to make him jealous, which I don't, I doubt it would be possible since he hardly knows me. I don't know him, I don't know how I let you talk me into this."

"Because it is just a dinner invitation. You have to eat anyway. You might as well eat in the presence of a rich, handsome man, and it's not him that will be jealous."

Sabine's eyes moved from her image, to her newly found friend, and frowned. "I do not wish to make him jealous either," she stated knowing full well who the mystery party was.

"Sabine, my dear, you have much to learn about men," Anna-Maria crossed to stretch herself across the bed. "You mistake was in letting Will know your feelings for him. Any power you had over him is gone. He controls the game now, not you."

"I am not playing a game, Anna."

"Of course you are, we all are. I play it with Jack, he plays it with me. Elizabeth played it with Will, Norrington played it with her… it's inevitable. That's what love is… it is nothing more than a game we play at. Some just happen to be better player than other."

Sabine gave a soft sigh, but decided not to press the matter. Perhaps Anna was right, maybe this was all a game at someone's sick design.

"Come," Anna-Maria took the young woman's hand, "Your carriage awaits."

The women made their way from Sabine's room down the short hallway to the stairs. Two working girls took notice as the young pirate in training passed. Their expressions ones of sneering contempt, but one icy look from Anna silenced any nastiness that was ready to spill from their lips. Sabine took no notice of any of them, or of anything. Not until she literally bumped into Will.

He was on his way to the front of the inn to wait for Jack. He had taken for granted that like Anna-Maria, Sabine would be joining them for supper, but one look at his friend's attire, and he knew she wasn't dressed to dine with them.

"Sabine?"

"Hello Will."

"Where are you going?" the Blacksmith wished he could shove the words back in his mouth. He could tell from the increased straightness in her shoulders that his tone took on the sounds of accusation, instead of question.

"I am going to dinner if you must know," she replied as curtly as possible.

"With who?" he demanded. He knew he was traveling down the wrong path, but it seemed his mouth had abandoned the council of his brain and gave voice to the wound building in his heart.

"Oliver Adoza," Anna-Maria happily replied.

"The shipping merchant?"

"Si," the woman chimed together.

"He's old," Will blurted out, his fingers wrapping around Sabine's arm to keep her from moving away. "He's old enough to be your father."

"But he's not my father. Thanks to you, my father is dead."

She snatched her arm away, but there was no longer a need. After the utterance of her last sentence, Will's grip all but dropped away. They were words that lived in his heart for the past few months, but never did he think he would hear them from Sabine. Un-apologetically she turned from him and continued outside. The indifferent look he was used to seeing on Anna's face was replaced with what could only pass for pity before she turned and left him as well.

He too moved to the doorway and watched as the coach driver helped Sabine into the back of the carriage, before mounting the buckboard and reigning the horse forward. As the coach lurched into motion, as Will watched from the entrance, she never once turned her eyes back in his direction.

Sabine felt sorry for her words to Will. They achieved the desired affect, the hung dog look on his face attested to that, and at the time she meant every syllable, but the lone carriage ride afforded her time to consider her actions. Although she believed Will Turner had earned the cruel words, she still felt sorry for saying them. Her inner lashings, however, were put on hold when Oliver Adoza's home came into view.

It was grander than anything she had ever seen in her life, even more so than the Governor's mansion. A tall iron fence encompassed acres of lush green grass, and way back resting between the cooling shades of numerous trees was a three story mansion. She could see stables off to the side, and a smaller version of the huge mansion to the back.

The carriage rode through the open gate that swung from brick columns on either side; and the two horses trotted down the graveled path to the front of the house. The stifling heated air of Aruba seemed to give way to a cooling fresh breeze as they passed under the trees. She hadn't known what to expect, hadn't given it much thought, but she definitely hadn't expected the amazing sight before her.

The carriage came to a stop, and Sabine had to stop herself and wait for the driver to open her door.

"He is expecting you," he stated and gestured to the walkway.

The young artist followed the stone pathway that led to the stairs, and took them to the front door. On the porch to her right was a swing suspended from two thick chains on either side, and connected to thick hooks in the ceiling. The porch itself wrapped around on either side, making her think it possibly went around all the way to the back. The door opened before she reached it, and another servant stood on the other side waiting for her to enter.

"Good evening miss, right this way."

The young woman curtsied, then quickly turned on her heels and led the way down a long hallway to a room with bay windows that ran from the ceiling to the floor. They were opened, pulled inward and secured so the pane wouldn't slam against the wall and shatter. Upon entering the room, Sabine could smell the salt, and knew without crossing to the window that they gave a view of the ocean.

"Mr. Adoza will be with you directly. Would you like some refreshments, or brandy?"

"No thank you."

The young girl curtsied once more before quickly taking her leave, giving Sabine an opportunity to look around. The room was elaborately decorated, with landscape pictures hanging on the two windowless walls. Across from the bay windows with the ocean view was a fireplace, a portrait of Oliver hung overhead. A gaming table was arranged on one side of the room, a small bar on the other. Next to the bar sat a closed harpsichord.

It was larger than the one in Sabine's home, looking more like a grand piano than the square box she hand. It also looked to be in better condition, as the redwood shone with a glossy finish. It was also more temptation than the young woman could resist, as she crossed to the instrument and ran her hands along the covered keyboard.

It felt like silk to fingers that eagerly opened the cover. She continued to stand as her fingers stroked the reversed black and white keys, only sitting after she pushed too hard and the first note rang out in the room. She hesitated at first, her fingers in the correct position to begin, but not quite touching.

Then she thought of her father, and how he would love to work in his study to the sounds of her music filling the house. Other times he would join her in the sitting room, listen quietly and applauding loudly at the end of each song, as if she were giving her own concerto.

The music flowed through her, from her heart, up to her brain, and back down and out through her fingers as they played over the keys. Each eliciting the proper note needed to fill the room with beautiful harmonic sounds. Beethoven's Sonata 14, Adagio Sostenuto filled the room, her skillful fingers not only extracting sound, but feelings from the melodious song.

So caught up in the moment, and the song, Sabine took no notice of Oliver entering the room until the last chord sounded and his applause took over. She started, all but leaping from the seat. Her fingers pulling back like the keys she just finished stroking were hot to the touch.

"I… I'm sorry, Senor…I--"

Oliver smiled and waved off the stammered apology. "Please, do not apologize for such beautiful music. I bought that, thinking one day I would learn to play. That was over five years ago, and today is the first time I have heard it speak."

Sabine smiled softly, trying not blush under the compliment.

"I knew when I saw you, that you were beautiful, I had no idea you had talent to match. Were did you learn to play?"

"My father paid for the best tutor in Jamaica."

Oliver's smile softened as he crossed to the harpsichord and offered his hand. Once Sabine's was fitted against his palm, he helped her up and softly kissed the back. "It shows my dear Mademoiselle… it shows."

He pulled her from behind the instrument, his eyes drinking in the flesh that was put on display by the corseted dress.

"You look absolutely stunning my dear."

"Thank you. And thank you for the dress, it's beautiful."

"You pay it too great a compliment. A dress is only as beautiful as the creature it adorns," Oliver adjusted the hand in his, repositioning it at the crock of his arm. "It's such a lovely day, I thought we might enjoy dinner outside. Any objections?"

"That sounds lovely," she agreed.

"Bon," he gave her hand a squeeze. "We shall enjoy a lovely dinner, with a lovely back drop and company. And perhaps I shall get to know this young woman pirate better."

"Perhaps," Sabine agreed.

"Perhaps, I can convince this young woman pirate to stay and see all that Aruba has to offer."

On that Sabine remained silent, and her coyness was met with rich resounding laughter from her dinner host.

Will toyed with the pint sitting before him. He had eaten alone in the tavern hoping solace and food would brighten his mood. When it failed to help, he turned to the drink closest and dearest to Sparrow's heart… rum.

Three pints later the food in his stomach felt as if it wanted to make a new acquaintance of the world, his head felt light and his mood was no better than it had been when Sabine walked out to have dinner with another man. He tried to tell himself that it was her parting words that put him in such a foul mood, but he couldn't believe his own lies. He had spoken harshly to her, thus making himself deserving of her anger.

"Still sulking?"

Jack Sparrow removed the empty pint the sat before the Blacksmith and replaced it with a full one before joining him at the table and taking a long swing from his own mug.

"I've lost her Jack."

"Funny, I never knew you had her."

Will frowned, looked down at the drink and pushed it away. "She loves me, at least she did. Now she with Oliver Adoza."

"Oliver Adoza is a good man," Jack pointed out.

"I'm a good man," Will countered. "I'm the one that looked after her when her father would go off merchanting. I'm the one who comforted her when she was catatonic after his death. It should be me she's having dinner with."

"Ah, so that's it… she owes you."

"No," the younger man snapped loudly, then frowned and placed his fingers to his temples. "That's not what I mean."

"Will, allow me to give you a bit of fatherly advice," Jack took a sip from his pint, which lead to a longer deeper drink. Will sat as attentive as his inebriated stated would allow. "Find yourself another woman, and take your mind off of this one."

"I don't want another woman, Jack. I don't want to be like you."

"What's wrong with me?"

"Well… have you ever known love? Have you ever been in love?"

"Love's over rated, lad."

Will snorted and finally brought the pint to his lips. "I thought as much."

"What good has ever come of being in love?" Jack demanded. "You loved Elizabeth, and look where it got you. Dragonfly loves you and look where it's gotten her." Jack shook his head and drained his mug. "Nay, I'll take a ship, the open sea and lots and lots of gold, over love any day, mate."

"You can't make love to gold, Jack."

"No, but it can buy you the charms of a woman."

"Gold won't take care of you in old age, or keep you company, or belay your fears."

"You want to know what I think?"

Will rolled his eyes and pushed himself back in his chair. "Nobody knows what you think Jack."

"I think you're no pirate… and neither is Dragonfly. I know I said that pirate is in your blood, and it will always be, but that doesn't mean it's your calling."

"What are you talking about?"

"I saw you on The Lucille. You fought because you had to. The bloodlust that comes with the territory of piracy is either in you or it's not. It's not something that can be taught, you're either born with it, or you're not. And if you don't have it, this life will never truly fit you. You don't have it, and the lass doesn't have it."

"You knew this before?"

"Aye, I knew it."

"Then why did you say nothing back in Tortuga?" Will demanded, "Why did you let us come all this way?"

"Because if I didn't take her along, she would have found someone else and gotten herself into some serious trouble, mate."

At that, Will's anger backed down. Jack was right and he knew it. He was right about a lot of things, but as he saw it, there was little he could do.

"She won't listen to me," he admitted.

"What woman ever does?" the scoundrel joked.

Will tried to smile, but it never quite lit the fire in his eyes. "Thanks Captain." Will stood and pat the old pirate's shoulder before making his way through the sea of drunken bodies to the front door.

Outside streets that had been thriving with life during the afternoon, were mostly barren as an early evening down pour had driven everyone to seek shelter. The young Blacksmith pulled his collar up, and his jacket closed and ran out into the onslaught. Two gold coins to the innkeeper purchased him a key to Sabine's room.

He would be there when she returned, and he would talk to her instead of snap and accuse her. He would make her hear and understand him. Then he would convince her to let go of her revenge and to make a life with him. He would take her to Spain, and she would become the greatest artist that ever lived. They would be a family, he would have a family, and his children would have a father. And maybe for the first time in his life, he would know true happiness.

Sabine couldn't see the downpour in the darkness, but she heard the drops unrelenting against the glass. The perfect beautiful afternoon quickly turned dark as massive storm clouds rolled across the Atlantic and brought the torrent of rain.

That had been two hours ago, and from the sounds of the wind and water outside, there was no halting in the near future.

"I know what you're thinking," Oliver stated handing Sabine a small glass of wine, "Unfortunately I wouldn't dare send Pable out in this weather."

"Perhaps I could walk back," she suggested, although the thought alone was enough to give her chills.

"Nonsense, it's as black as ink out there."

The young woman turned again to stare out into the darkness. She knew she shouldn't have come. Now it seemed like the elements had agreed and were delivering a just punishment.

"Unless the storm lets up soon, you will have to spend the night, my dear."

"If you would lend me a horse, I would return it before we sailed tomorrow."

Oliver smiled, his eyebrows arching upwards as he took her hand and led her to the couch in the parlor.

"Have I done something to indicate that I will be anything less than the perfect gentleman while you are in my care?"

"No, of course not."

"Then tell me, why are you so determined to escape from these walls."

His face was full of mirth and amusement, but not so much that she couldn't see the true feelings underneath.

"I am sorry, Oliver, you're company has been… refreshing. And the meal was excellent, but I don't wish to impose."

The older man studied her, and it was in the depths of her eyes, and the coy way she blushed and looked away that the truth of the matter finally dawned on him. It was something he had sensed during dinner. He knew he was an attractive man. He'd been assured time and time again by the countless women he courted, but there was something different about Sabine.

For most women it would only take a few compliments before his irresistible charm forced them to play along with the game. Sabine was careful that nothing she did could be mistaken for flirting. So much so that she had to be doing it on purpose. She was giving him no chance to mistake either her words or her deeds, for anything more than what they were.

"It is I that owe you an apology, my dear. It is not me you wish to escape, but another that you wish to go to. It is so rare that I see it, that it is hard for me to recognize a person in love when they sit before."

Sabine was all set to deny it, but chose to remain silent. Instead she leaned against the rigid back of the couch. The wine untouched as she toyed with the glass between her fingers.

"May I inquire as to who it is?"

"I'd rather not say," she replied softly.

"I know it's not Jack."

"How?" she questioned frowning slightly.

"Because Jack is no fool, and only a fool would let you go off to have dinner with another man."

"I am my own woman," she stated in a voice that left no room for argument. "No one allows me to or not to do anything."

Oliver bowed his head slightly, conceding the point to the young woman. He had no wish to argue, not when the rest of the evening had been such a delight. There was, however, something that had been gnawing at him since, Jack introduced her at the shipping house.

"May I inquire as to something else?" her nodded prompted him to continue. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you invited me," she answered confused.

"No my dear, why are you with Jack? You are educated, talented, beautiful, and above all a woman. A pirate's life is a hard life, even for a man, why would you willing subject yourself to these hardships?"

She looked down, finally taking her first sip of the sweet fruit nectar.

"You should be clothed in beautiful dresses and surrounded by servants ready to take care of your every need."

"I have my reasons."

"Surely you are not the type of woman that would engage in piracy to be near the man she loves."

"No."

"And your father? What does he say about your chosen lifestyle?"

"My father would hardly be able to reprimand me since he was a pirate himself. Besides, he's dead," she wasn't sure why she felt compelled to add the last part. He had been open with her all evening, answering questions about his past and his life with Jack. It gave her an insight on the pirate she wouldn't have had any other way. In a way she felt she owed Oliver the truth, or as much truth as she would be able to give.

"My sympathies, Sabine."

"It is my duty to avenge his death. This is the only way I see to accomplish that."

Oliver nodded, "That I understand, but be careful that you do not give this man too much power over you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You are a young woman, Sabine. Even now there is an innocence in your eyes… Avengers never remain innocence, and the death of the man that killed your father, won't bring him back."

"I know that. You think I don't know that? What would you have me do? Nothing? Let that man that murdered him in cold blood get away?"

"Trust when I say he won't get away. Our mistakes, our wrongs come back to roust, no matter how hard we try to escape them. This man killed your father, so you will kill him. Maybe one of his friends will kill you, maybe not, but you will have to live with his blood tainting your hands for the rest of your days."

Sabine dropped his gaze and focused on the red liquid inside the glass. His words so closely echoed those Gezana gave to her the night before she left. The woman had all but begged her not to go, but Sabine couldn't hear her. She wouldn't allow herself to hear. Oliver's words brought into sharp focus the cracks that had begun to show in the resolve that had once been so strong.

"Had my father a son, he would avenge our father's murder."

Oliver placed his finger under Sabine's chin and turned her eyes back to his. "You are not your father's son. And vengeance by either sex brings nothing but more pain. If you father hadn't been killed, but simply died, what would you be doing now?"

She remained silent for several moments. She studied the contents of her glass, while Oliver studied her. "I suppose I would have gone to Barcelona. He wanted me to be tutored by the finest artists in Europe."

Oliver nodded and stood, then offered his hand to pull Sabine to her feet.

"The hour is late, and I have allowed the mood to become to heavy," he gestured to the harpsichord, "Come, play us something pleasant, so that we may have peaceful dreams."

"But--"

"The weather is much too frightful to take you back to town. There are four bedrooms for you to sleep in, and I assure you, you are perfectly safe."

After a moments hesitation, she handed him the mostly filled glass of wine and moved once again to the instrument in the corner.