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Chapter 8

Ashe sat down at the bar and looked around, already having regrets about coming. It was still before noon and therefore the pub wasn't busy, but it had enough noisily talking people to make her nervous. And she had the prickling feeling that she was being watched.

Ashe turned around and glanced over her shoulder, inadvertently catching the eyes of a man sitting in a booth right behind her. He was staring fixedly at her, as if he found her fascinating. Why was everyone noticing her all of a sudden? 'Just figures,' Ashe thought bitterly, 'just as I become about as unreal as a person can get, everyone decides to notice me.'

She stared back at the stranger. He was handsome in a rugged, weathered way. He had a shock of flyaway black hair that was graying slightly at the temples, and a high forehead crossed with worry lines. He had thick brows that shadowed dark brown eyes that flowed into deeply etched laugh lines. He wore the clothing of a longtime mariner, and something about him reminded Ashe of an indiscernible memory.

Ashe flashed a hesitant smile at him, but he didn't catch it because at that moment he ducked his head, no longer looking at her. 'And why would he?' she thought bitterly, 'I don't matter.'

Ashe took the time to gaze around the room. It was a low-class sort of establishment, the kind of seedy pub one would expect to find in the lower decks of an Alaskan cruise ship. It was filled with the acrid scent of cigarette smoke, as it was one of the few places on board that allowed smoking, overlaid with the scent of wood polish and alcohol. The decorations were scant but for a few large pictures of long ago whaling expeditions and a few pieces of whaling paraphernalia hung on the walls.

The tables were made out of what was obviously supposed to look like driftwood from various shipwrecks and were topped with old-fashioned oil lamps. The bar, which ran all along one wall, was constructed of solid mahogany, possibly worth more than the rest of the pub put together. Behind it were various displays of liquor bottles, and glasses hung from racks on the ceiling. The lighting in the room was poor and hazy, with only a few portholes in the far wall providing any natural light. Since it was still foggy and rainy outside, even these let in little or no illumination. All in all, it was pretty dank.

Ashe glanced back at the man behind her, only to realize he was no longer there. Swinging around, she saw him stalking quickly toward the door. As he was leaving, another man entered. His face was hidden in the shadow of the doorway as he scanned the room, but Ashe recognized him as Jack. Before, he had been wearing jeans, a white t-shirt and a windbreaker. Now, he was wearing a pair of dark gray pants, a blue dress shirt and a leather jacket. His hair was slightly mussed, half of it standing straight on end, but it managed to look purposeful. As the shadows shifted, his face came into view. His beautiful eyes fell on her and he smiled as he strode toward her. Ashe looked down at the bar in front of her. Why did he have to be so attractive? Why did she have to be so ugly? Ashe contemplated the injustice of life for another moment before she felt him take a seat next to her.

Slowly lifting her eyes and then her head to look at him, Ashe smiled in greeting. She had to get over this fear of people if she was going to do what she came here for, and she had to start somewhere.

'Be strong,' she told herself firmly, 'don't let your past get the best of you.'

"Hi," she greeted him simply. As soon as it left her mouth, she felt stupid. 'Hi'? Just 'hi'? She bit her lower lip, trying to keep breathing. He looked even better this close up, and the way he was smiling at her…

"Hi," he responded, looking her up and down briefly, "You look nice. Healthier, actually. When I saw you out on the deck I could have sworn I was looking at a ghost."

Ashe's eyes opened wider, and a forced laugh escaped her lips. "Right."

Jack smiled and turned to the bartender. "Hey, can we get two beers?"

When the man had deposited their drinks in front of them, Ashe took a large gulp of the cold foamy liquid. Man, she had missed alcohol…

She couldn't suppress a grin at the amused look on Jack's face. He seemed impressed.

"What?" she asked, "I haven't had a beer in two years. I think I've earned this." She took another huge swig.

Jack's lips twitched, but he managed to keep a straight face. With anyone else, Ashe would have felt that she was being laughed at. With Jack it was more like a shared joke.

"You shouldn't drink it that fast if you haven't had any in so long," he warned only half-jokingly, "After all, that is Canadian beer."

Ashe shook her head. "Naw, I've always had an excellent metabolism." She looked at him out the corner of her eye.

"What, afraid I'll out drink you?"

At that, Jack mumbled something under his breath that had something to do with cold weather in Hell, and without further ado he raised his glass and drained it.

And so it went. After her third glass, Ashe had to admit to herself that she was indeed not the drinker she used to be. But she'd be damned if she'd admit it to Jack; the man had yet to show any effect from his own three glasses. Ashe, however, noticed that the alcohol had a freeing effect on her tongue. She couldn't remember ever talking this much, other than to herself.

Jack asked her about her job, and she admitted that she hadn't worked there long. When he asked her why not, she evaded him nicely with a convenient call of nature. Upon her return from the bathroom, he ordered another round and asked her about her family. She told him that she had never known her father, and that her mother had worked long hours to make ends meet, and that she had hardly been around. He sympathized, realizing how much time she had spent alone. As the afternoon wore on, she started to tell him about other aspects of her childhood: how she had always been an outcast, how she had never had any friends. How things had only worsened when her mother had died.

These were secrets Ashe had always thought she would take to her grave and beyond, but somehow Jack's presence seemed to alleviate her fears and reserves. It was the way he listened, the way he leaned into her when she spoke, his eyes never leaving hers. It was the intense interest he fixed her with and the understanding in his eyes when she told him about her life. It was that soothing, mesmerizing aura that seemed to seep from him into her, strengthening her and softening her at the same time. It was as if she actually mattered enough to him for him to want to know about her past. Ashe had always thought it impossible to meet someone – especially a male – that would finally listen to her, understand her. Jack was all this and more.

Finally, as she knew he would, he approached the subject that she knew she could never discuss, not even with Jack.

"So how come you haven't drank in two years?" he asked, "your story seems to end about two years ago and start again here. What happened two years ago that everything stopped?"

Oh, how she wanted to tell him. How she wanted to make him believe her, help her. But she couldn't. Stalling for time, Ashe gazed out one of the portholes at the far side of the pub. The room had slowly filled as they had talked, but for once Ashe hadn't noticed the crowds.

"It stopped raining," she observed. She turned back to face Jack. "You wanna go for a walk?"

Jack hesitated a minute, seeming to battle with himself. Finally, he nodded his head.

"Sure," he replied, "why not?"

With that, he rose gracefully to his feet, seemingly not even the least inhibited by the five drinks he had polished off. Ashe on the other hand had only consumed four, and had to try twice in order to stand. Normally she would have been embarrassed at such a public display of weakness, but she felt somehow that Jack would protect her from the crowd around her, would shield her for the first time in her life from the harsh realities of the world.

Dropping some bills on the counter to pay for their binge, the two of them headed out the door and up the steps to the door leading to the lower deck.

The rain had stopped but the wind had picked up, causing the fog to lift, leaving in its place a sky of rolling white clouds. Ashe ambled toward the front of the ship where she had sat only a few hours ago, yet it seemed like days had passed. Maybe it was the alcohol, but Ashe was feeling the happiest she could ever remember herself feeling. She was on a ship in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight, constantly gaining on that far-off horizon. She was I the company of a man that, besides actually noticing her, seemed to understand her. She was surrounded by people but for the first time in her existence she neither noticed nor cared. Wordlessly, Ashe leaned against the railing, her eyes scanning the blue horizon that spread in front of her as far as the eye could see. 'Maybe I was right in coming here,' she thought silently, 'maybe the answers are all here, if I choose to see them.'

She sighed. If only it were that easy…

Jack leaned on the railing next to her. Ashe vaguely remembered that up until today she hadn't allowed a man to come anywhere hear her, let alone stand so close to her that she could feel the heat coming from him. He followed her gaze to the horizon, and then looked back at her.

"What do you think about," he asked softly, his breath tickling her ear, "What do you think about when you're out here all alone?"

Ashe glanced at him out the corner of her eye. His eyes bore into hers, and once again Ashe felt as if she was being searched for something. She looked back out at the horizon, breaking eye contact.

"Lots of things," she murmured in reply, "But mostly I don't think. Throughout my entire life, I've always lived by the sea. When things got rough, it was always something I could depend on, a never-changing constant that could anchor me down. And at the same time it freed me." She shook her head, realizing she probably wasn't making any sense. "I can't really explain it. As a kid, whenever I was depressed or angry or needed to get away from people, I would go and stare at the sea and it would sorta absorb me, I guess. I'd look out at the horizon and imagine myself on the sea with nothing, nobody around me, just free to be me. And I'd feel as if I was there. I suppose it's some kind of subconscious psychological thing, but it would always calm me down and inspire me to do the best I could with what I had, and to wait until the day when I'd be able to leave it all behind. I guess I still feel that way. That's why I love ships so much. Because out here, no matter which way you turn, you see blue horizon, sky to sea. So I can imagine that I'm all alone, where nobody will judge me or laugh at me or make me feel unwanted."

She turned to Jack, expecting him to look confused or freaked out or something. He might understand her better than anyone else ever had, but what she had just said was bound to sound absolutely ridiculous. That's why she was surprised to find him staring at her again, but not with scorn or even pity, but with fascination. She was so shocked that she said, "What?" in a rather accusing sort of way.

He didn't answer and his expression didn't change. In fact, he looked like he had finally figured something out, like a tricky puzzle piece that had finally fit into place. The wind whipped his hair up and ruffled his clothes as his face shifted closer to hers. Ashe felt the cold wind penetrate her thin cotton shirt and shivered slightly. She had never really looked into Jack's eyes before, but now she stared into them, only inches from her face. They were a dazzling cold blue, like an ancient glacier. They seemed to drill a hole through her own eyes into her very soul, but Ashe couldn't look away. She barely noticed when his hands enveloped her upper arms, pulling her closer to him. She squirmed under his scrutiny. Panic seared through her mind. She had to look away, had to get away. What if he saw her past, her true past? What if he saw the one thing he couldn't find out? What if he saw…?

His eyes kept coming closer until all she could see were those beautiful, ice cold orbs. He now held her pressed against him, his arms encircling her waist. His eyes hadn't lost their searching quality, but something else was now reflected in them – compassion, warmth, comfort. She suddenly felt like she was being silly. Of course he couldn't see her past just by looking at her; she just didn't like looking people in the eye. She usually avoided eye contact with others, feeling that it gave too much of herself away. Against her will, Ashe felt the old fear of being touched come roaring back.

Before she could say a word, Jack spoke, so close his lips brushed hers. His voice was deeper than she remembered, though it might have been the close proximity. She still couldn't escape those eyes…

"Ashe," he asked, "Who are you?"

Ashe trembled, both from the cold and from the nerves that had suddenly begun wrack her body. She realized that he had her backed against the railing. The cold metal of the rail dug into her back when she squirmed again, trying to break his grip.

"Jack…" she started breathlessly, but never got a chance to finish because at that moment he lowered his head slightly and kissed her.

Ashe felt shock and panic reverberate through her body. She hadn't come near a man in over eight years, let alone kissed one. In fact, Ashe couldn't remember ever being kissed; at least, not like this. In her high school years, the boys who had dated her had kissed her, but it had been more to silence her protests than out of any real passion. But now…

Ashe's eyes drifted closed. Once free from the spell of his eyes, she suddenly realized how close he really was to her. His arms were wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly against him. Unlike all the others, his kiss wasn't forcing her into anything; it was more like an invitation that she was free to decline at any time. He seemed to sense and understand her inexperience, so rather than pushing her he held back, waiting until she was ready before taking it any farther. It was because of this that Ashe didn't pull away, as her mind was screaming at her to do. She relaxed against him and brought her arms forward to wrap around his neck. Something deep inside her warned her away, but for once she didn't listen. Ashe knew it was probably because of all the alcohol she had consumed combined with the calming effect of the sea, but she couldn't help but feeling inexplicably safe in Jack's embrace.

After a minute or so, he pulled back. Ashe opened her eyes and once again met his. They were no longer the colour of a frigid glacier but the warm hue of the sea near her childhood home. Another gust of Arctic wind hit her from the back, blowing her hair into Jack's face and sending a shiver up her spine. Smiling apologetically, Ashe gathered her hair and tugged into place behind her head with the elastic she kept around her wrist. She lowered her eyes from his gaze, remembering the question he had asked her before he had kissed her. Who was she?

She gently extricated herself from his embrace and turned again to face the horizon. The harsh cold wind turned her tears to ice water on her cheeks. She felt she owed him an answer, but what could she say? She wasn't anything. She was the invisible girl who had grown into an invisible woman and then disappeared from the face of the earth. Now, two years later, she was still trying to figure out what exactly she was.

Jack cursed himself. He hadn't meant to do that. He had been so close, so very close to breaking through that wall. Getting her drunk had worked marvelously; she had opened up about her past and her feelings. Jack had felt her start to trust him and had played that trust for all it was worth.

He had used his powers to wrap his will around her, slowly ensnaring her mind and plying it to his purposes. He had felt that insurmountable wall around her soul start to wobble. Cracks had appeared; it was getting thinner. It had all been working wonderfully until suddenly everything had snapped. She had somehow blocked him completely and he had found himself holding her over the rail and staring into her eyes.

Unable to resist temptation, he had kissed her, rationalizing that at least this way he knew she trusted him far more than she had before. In truth, he was extremely attracted to her, though he would never admit it, even to himself. To admit it would be to admit weakness, and weakness was something he couldn't afford right now.

Ashe didn't have much time left. Either she let him in before the day was over or to hell with his plan. He could come up with another plan; he didn't need her. If she resisted him for much longer, he would have to kill her. He honestly didn't want to do it, but too much rested on his success aboard this ship. And besides, she was a passenger. She would die sooner or later anyway.

She turned away from him to lean against the rail again. She stared out at the water for a few minutes before finally saying, "I don't know."

"What?" he asked, moving beside her so that he could see her face. It was streaked with tears.

She sniffed and said, "You asked me who I am. I don't know who I am. Or more precisely, what I am."

Jack moved closer and reached out to turn her head towards him. When she was facing him, he asked her again, "Ashe, what happened to you two years ago?"

Her eyes filled with tears and she pulled away. "I can't tell you," she whispered, "please don't ask, because I can't tell you."

Jack scowled. This was going nowhere. He realized that the key to the secrets she kept behind that wall lay in some tragic event that had happened to her two years ago. Everything she had told him about her past seemed to stop there, and then suddenly start again right here, on the 'Arctic Pearl'. She had been away for those two years, somewhere away from the few things that made her happy. If she hadn't been fucked up before than, Jack was willing to bet that those two years of her life would have done it for sure. Against his will, he found himself feeling sorry for Ashe. The kid had had a shitty life, no doubt about that. And it was about to end very soon.

"Ashe…" Jack said, "Ashe, I'm sorry. I won't push you. Everyone's entitled to their secrets." He smiled. "I have a few of my own that I wouldn't be willing to share with anybody."

'Not quite true', he amended to himself, 'I am willing to tell people my secrets. But not before they're staring down the sharp end of my knife.'

Ashe turned toward him, a look of pained relief on her face.

"Thanks Jack," she said softly, "I knew you'd understand."

'Goddammit,' Jack thought, 'why does she have to be so fragile? And why does that have to somehow turn me on?'

He managed to restrain himself for about ten seconds before giving in. He reached out and pulled her to him again, this time with one arm around her waist and one hand cupping the back of her head.

"Fuck it," he mumbled before kissing her again.