Disclaimer: See last six chapters.

A/N: Wow, this has taken a while, eh? I think I'm experiencing some writer's block. This really sucks, and I hope it doesn't last too long. I've been working really hard on this chapter. I've restarted countless times, and I hope it's up to scratch. Bear with me here people!! I promise the action is coming soon!

Chapter 7

Jack walked briskly toward where he knew Ashe would be. He reached out toward her mind, hopeful…maybe, if he could just see…

He found her mind lingering at the prow of the ship. He reached out toward her with his powers, and cursed loudly when he felt the wall still intact, protecting her soul from his prying eyes. But at least he knew where she was. He walked with long strides toward the nearest exit. If he could sneak up on her…

He flung open the door, but only halfway open it hit an obstruction. Jack heard a feminine scream of surprise and pain, and flew through the door to find Ashe sitting a few feet away in a puddle of rainwater. It was still pouring, and she was drenched. Her hair fell in wet tangles to wrap around her neck and carve dark paths across her face, which was paled from the cold. A red welt crossed her cheek from where the door had struck her. Her jeans were soaked, and her blue sweater clung to her thin form. Rain sloughed down around her and fog rolled over the ship, making her seem more like a shadow in the mist than a substantial woman. She looked like a ghost.

As she slowly raised her gaze to him, her eyes caught his. They stood out starkly against her pale features, their usual blue-gray hardened to the colour of slate. Embarrassment was written clearly in them, as well as pain and hopelessness. 'She's beautiful,' he thought, 'but she's so determined that no one cares about her. I need to break that shell. Fast. And the first step might be proving her wrong.'

"Oh, shit!"

Jack closed the door behind him and darted over to where Ashe sat, her hand on her cheek. 'Now's the time, Ferriman' he thought, 'you've gotta win her over now, or you'll have lost your chance.'

He knelt down next to her, a carefully perfected look of concern on his face. He put his hand gently on her shoulder and leaned toward her. He had one chance to get her, and if he lost it now, he could lose everything. He wouldn't let that happen.

"I'm so sorry," he said, "I didn't see you there. Are you okay?"

Ashe turned to look at him, and he could almost see her wanting to pull away, could almost feel the panic rising in her, the fear of being touched taking over. He backed off, but only slightly.

"I-I'm fine," she stammered, leaning back from him, "No big deal, really."

Jack fought down a scowl. No woman had ever leaned away from him. 'She's not just another woman,' his mind chided, 'She's different. You have to treat her differently.'

He gripped her arm and helped her to her feet. She swayed slightly, and it was only then that Jack realized how cold it was out here.

"How long have you been out here?" he asked her, gripping both of her shoulders and turning her to face him.

Ashe frowned. It seemed she was just realizing the time herself. "I don't know, actually. I was just sitting at the prow, watching the fog come in…" she trailed off and looked around at the fog that now enveloped them. "I guess I was out here longer that I thought."

She had started to shiver violently, and Jack had another moment of wishing she would just drop dead and save him the bother when she seemed to pull herself together.

"Well, I think I'll go inside and warm up," she said through chattering teeth, giving him a weak, shy smile. She started to pull away, but he wasn't going to let her get away that easily. He held on to her arm and pulled her back toward him, wrapping his other arm around her waist. He felt her stiffen, and then slowly relax, grateful for the support.

"Listen, Jack…" she said, looking down, "About last night…I'm sorry I ran out like that…It's just that…" she trailed off again as another fit of shivering caused her teeth to chatter violently.

"It's alright, I understand," he crooned as he led her back through the door. She stumbled over the step in the doorway and fell into him. He caught her, expecting her to pull away as she had the night before. But to his surprise, she leaned into him, trembling. 'The kid's in really poor shape,' he thought, gently peeling the strands of hair away from her face. After a moment she looked up at him, a calculating look in her eyes.

Jack smiled down at her, concentrating on his every move. She was poised like a deer, ready to flee at the slightest hint of danger. Jack felt as if any small noise or movement he made could send her flying down the hall.

He realized he had never really had to think this hard about how he acted with a woman. He had never really needed to gain a woman's trust or faith before having his way with her. Women had always come to him, undone by his looks and charm, and all he had had to do was make sure they came back for more. He had always played his women, never taking the effort to stay faithful. The only thing women are good for is sex. The rest is complicated shit that Jack didn't particularly need or want. And now, finding himself in a situation where he actually had to work to gain a woman's trust or lose everything trying, he was at somewhat at a loss for how to go about doing it.

Relief washed through him when Ashe responded with her own smile, however hesitant. He stood her carefully on her feet and stepped back.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked, doing a really good job at faking concern.

"I'm fine," she assured him, "What time is it?"

Jack checked his watch. "Eleven thirty." She looked disappointed.

"What's wrong?" He asked, wondering what was wrong with her now.

"Would you say eleven thirty's close enough to twelve?" she asked seriously. Confused, Jack nodded.

"I guess so."

"Good. Because I know I'm not supposed to drink in the morning, but I think I need a beer. At least."

Jack grinned. Now this was something he knew about. "A drinker, are you?" She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Good, so am I. How 'bout you get changed and meet me in the Blue Oyster in fifteen minutes?" he said.

Ashe hesitated, weighing her need for alcohol against her unwillingness and inexperience with a drinking partner. Finally, the beer won out.

"Okay, fifteen minutes then," she agreed, and without another word she turned and headed down the stairs to the cabin decks.

Murphy crept along the corridor after Ferriman, heading up toward the passenger decks. Quickly, Murphy cast a glamour over himself, making him invisible to any prying eyes, even Ferriman's. Oh, the younger man had other ways of checking up on his charges, but as long as he didn't suspect anything, he would never feel the need to check Murphy's whereabouts.

After hearing Ferriman talk about the girl he was after, Murphy found himself becoming curious about her. She certainly seemed like a girl with problems, but Murphy knew somehow that she didn't deserve what Ferriman had in store for her. So he had decided to see her for himself, and warn her about Ferriman, who he really was and what he was planning. Chances are she'd think he was crazy, but it was worth a shot.

The Mark on Murphy's hand shot another searing stab of pain up his arm. Wincing, Murphy took the pain as incentive to keep fighting.

Since the day Ferriman had Marked Murphy his property, the Mark had been like an anchor, weighing at Murphy's soul, trying to tear him away from the ethics he had always valued and make him into another will-less slave. But Murphy hadn't been willing to give up his soul so easily. So he had fought it. After a day or so, the Mark had started twinging with pain every time Murphy resisted doing something it compelled him to do. Now it shot stinging darts of pain up his entire arm when challenged. Murphy knew that if he didn't give in soon, the pain would become crippling. He knew he would have to give in at some point. If only he could stop Ferriman's plans aboard this ship first…Which meant he had to hurry.

Creeping up the last of the stairs, Murphy saw Ferriman open the door leading to the exterior of the ship. He heard Ferriman swear loudly, and then disappear outside. Figuring it was too risky to follow him outside, Murphy stayed where he was and waited. Sure enough, Ferriman appeared a few minutes later supporting a small woman who was soaking wet and shivering violently. From the uncertain looks the two kept shooting each other, this must be Ashe.

Murphy didn't really get a good look at her, but he heard their conversation. "Blue Oyster in fifteen minutes…' he mumbled to himself, deep in thought. He wanted to know more about Ashe; something about her looked terribly familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. Meeting her at the bar before Ferriman got to her would do nicely. As Ashe moved off down the stairs toward her rooms, Murphy swept down the same staircase toward the Blue Oyster, praying that Jack would be too slow.

Ashe closed the door behind her and collapsed on her bed, still shaking a bit. Hugging herself, she rocked back and forth, trying to warm up.

After a minute or so, she got up and rummaged around for some dry clothes. She picked out a pair of green khaki pants and a white cotton shirt. Buttoning the shirt, she entered the bathroom and tried to put her hair back in order. While she was struggling with the thick mass, she finally allowed herself to think about what had occurred in the last fifteen minutes.

She just couldn't seem to get away from Jack Ferriman. No matter how hard she tried to avoid people, he always seemed to find her and put her on the spot. Stranger still, he actually seemed to want to talk to her. To notice her. The strangest thing of all was that it seemed genuine.

Ashe had had her share of pity, of charity. She knew what it looked like when someone was pretending to be interested in her. It happened a lot with men. Men who liked how she looked, but were reluctant to go far beyond that. Men who wanted her for sex, but didn't want the person trapped inside the body, didn't want the complication. But it was different with Jack.

Jack didn't even seem to notice her physically, but seemed genuinely interested in her mind. He sought her out just to talk, to find out more about her. And, unlike the others, he seemed to mind when she declined. As if she actually meant enough to him to not take no for an answer.

But she was being stupid. Nobody ever cared what she thought, or even if she thought. All men ever wanted was one thing – the one thing she would never be able to stomach giving them. Never again.

Shying away from bad memories, Ashe finished with her hair, satisfied that it looked at least decent. She applied some lipstick and mascara, and felt a bit more human. Done, she took a moment to simply look at herself in the mirror. She examined the face she had always thought of as ugly, with the cloudy blue eyes and big nose, the cloud of colourless hair and the funny looking ears.

She had always believed herself to be just less than what she wanted herself to be. In fact, she had turned out looking like the one person she never wanted to be – her mother. Ashe had always wanted clear, striking blue eyes, but had been given gray, dull ones like her mother's. She had always desired long, wavy black hair, but had instead got this thick, dark-brown mop that her mother had also shared. Ashe had also inherited her mother's big ears and nose.

Similarly, Ashe had always wanted to be smart and popular, but had completed only half of her ambition. She had never wanted to date handsome men, just men who would accept her as she was. But all she had ever received were many good-looking men who cared nothing for her.

That was how her mother had always described Ashe's father. The few times during her childhood years when Ashe had dared ask her mother about the man who had sired her, her mother would tell Ashe that her father had been a lost soul, a wanderer who hadn't really wanted a family, but had tricked himself and her into believing that he did. She would tell Ashe that her father had harbored a love for the sea equal to Ashe's own, and Ashe would treasure this one bond to a man that was a part of her, yet would remain faceless to her forever. And Ashe had sworn that for this reason, she would never marry, would never allow herself to be so enthralled by a man as to be duped like her mother had been.

But if she was so determined to stay away from men, then why had she agreed to meet Jack? Why was she beginning to almost…trust him? He was handsome enough, but so were many of the others. He appeared to enjoy her company, but that was so easily faked that it hardly mattered.

Thinking back, Ashe realized the answer: The first time she had met Jack, when she had bumped into him in the hallway. Most people would have accepted her apology and moved on. After all, she was invisible. But Jack had actually stopped to talk to her, had taken an interest. He had asked for her name. And that intense feeling she got when he touched her – that feeling of being searched, but not exactly violated. Just searched. That was what had made her trust him. And now he wanted to know about her past. She had mixed feelings about telling him. Of all the men she had ever known, Jack was the only one to ask her about her past, about her likes and dislikes, to actually seek her out and make her spend time with him. And despite her inner warnings, she was starting to feel strangely safe with Jack. But at the same time she knew she wouldn't – that she couldn't possibly tell him who she was. She could lose all she'd worked so hard for…

Setting her jaw, Ashe scooped up her purse and headed out the door. She really needed a drink.

Murphy entered the Blue Oyster Pub. The smell of smoke, alcohol and wood polish assaulted his nose as he scanned the room for a good place to sit and wait. He settled on a table at the back, pulled into a corner but still affording a view of the whole room. He kept the glamour of invisibility over himself, not wanting to be seen staring at the patrons of the pub, all of which were laughing and having a great time, oblivious to the evil brewing under their very feet.

Glancing to the doorway, Murphy saw a small form enter the pub and take a seat at the bar. He recognized it as Ashe, but he needed a better view. Quickly he rose and scooted up to a booth only meters from where she sat.

Up close, Ashe appeared less like a slim, short woman than like a tiny, mousy person trapped in a body that was entirely too big for her. Her head darted around at the crowd, and she squirmed as if trying to make herself even smaller. Her back was turned, and Murphy could see her tense, hunched shoulders. Her hair was loose and fell down her back, slowly drying out to form tiny dark-brown curls in the humid air. Her face, or the silhouette of it, was clearly lined and angled. Murphy still couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen that face before somewhere.

Then, without warning, Ashe whipped her head around to where Murphy was sitting, seeming to place the exact spot where he was sitting though he was still quite invisible. She continued to look straight at him as if she knew he had been staring at her. Although Murphy knew there was no reason to feel ashamed, as there was no way she could possibly see him, he bowed his head, breaking eye contact. When he dared to look back up, she was no longer looking at him but gazing around at the smoky space, seemingly in a daze.

Suddenly, realization hit Murphy like a blow to the chest. That look…that dazed, sleepy look…he knew where he had seen it before. He had seen it in the mirror countless times upon his own face, whenever he had felt uncomfortable and wished just to escape. And that face. Ashe had his strong chin and cheekbones. But those eyes, that hair…those belonged to… Ferriman had told Murphy and his former crew all he had managed to learn about Ashe, which was precious little. She had grown up on Vancouver Island, Canada. She had a love for the sea and for living things. She seemed to have had a rough childhood, but had come through okay. It was this that had intrigued Murphy to know more about the girl. He himself had led a rough childhood and had managed to overcome it. In fact, the one thing Murphy had wished all his life was to have children and to care for them so that they would never have to go through what he had been through. But he had realized too late that he couldn't follow through on that wish.

Memories washed back to him. A woman with dark-brown hair and gorgeous blue-gray eyes full of tears, telling him that she was pregnant, that he would be a father. The same woman, her eyes heated with anger, furious that he refused to marry her. And finally, the woman he had loved with her eyes closed in sleep, his final words to her written on a scrap of paper at her bedside, as he left her with their unborn child to return to the sea.

Looking at the product of his selfish wish now, a single tear rolled down Murphy's weather-beaten cheek. He had always wanted to give his child the world, but had realized that he couldn't live in a world with a child in it. He had thought that losing Epps had been hard – she was the closest thing to a daughter he had ever known. But now, seeing this emotionally crushed young woman that was truly his daughter…guilt was too mild a word to express what he was feeling.

He couldn't look at her anymore. Shaking, Murphy stood and ran out of the pub, almost running into Ferriman on the way through the door.

Murphy turned and looked on as the bastard went and sat down next to his only daughter.

"Don't you dare touch her, you prick," he hissed, his Mark throbbing with pain, "Harm her and I'll make you wish you had never even heard of the 'Arctic Warrior' or her captain."

As Murphy slowly returned to the brig of the 'Arctic Pearl', he gathered his will, preparing to fight the Mark and Ferriman harder than ever. Murphy would do his best to make sure that every person on this ship escaped that bastard, but failing that, he would willingly give his very soul to protect his daughter. He owed her that much.