Disclaimer: Yep, still no ownage. None at all, not even the slightest bit. (sniff).

A/N: Thanks to all you wonderful people who reviewed, I forgot the Author's Note in the last chapter but I don't forget about you guys. I LOVE YOU PAPA SMURF!! Thanks so much for your support, you have no idea how much it means to me. ITNOR can tell you that every time I get a new review I smile for days. Now, on with the story…

Chapter 9

Murphy closed his eyes, trying to block the memories that came flooding back to his tired mind, memories that were still raw and painful. After leaving the Blue Oyster Pub, Murphy hadn't returned to the dark, dank hold where his former crew resided. He found he had needed some air. So he had retreated to the lower exterior deck of the 'Arctic Pearl'. Murphy had stared out at sea as was his custom for a long time, losing track of the hours as he contemplated his past and the child he had never known nor acknowledged. Regrets and old emotions he had long since buried were laid bare by the cold wind and blue horizon around him as he dredged up memories of the one woman he had ever truly loved and the relentless mistress that he had left her for – the sea. Tears ran down his face and his shoulders slumped as he leaned over the rail, his eyes roving restlessly over the moving waters below, searching for nothing and finding it.

After an undefined amount of time, Murphy wiped his eyes and decided he had better head back inside before Ferriman realized he had been away. He had decided nothing in the time he had spent, but had come to some hard conclusions about himself. He had no answers, but had realized the right questions to ask. He was weary and cold and for the first time ever he felt his age bearing down upon him. The Mark shot twinges of pain up his arm all the way to his shoulder, causing him to cringe. Murphy felt like an old man.

Murphy had always loved looking at the sea, and one reason he had chosen to be a professional salvager was because he couldn't stand not being around the sea. It was the reason he had found himself incapable of settling down and starting a family twenty four years ago. The reason Ashe's childhood had been just as short and miserable as his own had been.

Now, Murphy found the thought of returning to the dank cargo hold after spending so long with this magnificent view to be irritating, at the very least. He resolved to take one walk around the deck and then retire. If Ferriman realized that Murphy had strayed off then to hell with him. Murphy wasn't afraid of the bastard.

Slowly ambling around to the fore of the ship, Murphy heard voices around the corner, one male and one female. The female voice sounded so familiar, its melodic tones washing over him along with the bittersweet memories it conjured. The voice whispered something incomprehensible, and then both voices were silent. Thinking that the couple had gone inside to escape the wind and ominous clouds overhead, Murphy stepped around the corner.

The sight that met Murphy's eyes was the stuff that fathers' nightmares are made of. There was his only daughter, his sole seed and heir, in the arms of the bastard that had killed him. Ferriman had his fingers entwined in Ashe's hair, his head bent over hers. The girl leaned against the railing, her hands placed lightly on his hips. The two of them looked oblivious to the world around them.

There's an expression that says that when you experience true fury, you see the world through a red tint. Murphy had never experienced this before, but now he did. His hands clenched convulsively, and then slackened. This happened a few times before Murphy's mind could once again process information. His breathing had become ragged and his eyes stared unblinkingly at the unsuspecting couple before him.

Before he could think of anything else, Murphy lost control.

"You get the hell away from her, you bastard!" he called. His voice rang out in a lull between gusts of wind, and they heard him loud and clear. Ashe jerked in surprise and Ferriman's head whipped around to fix Murphy with a death glare. Murphy gasped as his right hand exploded with blinding pain. Fighting down a scream, Murphy raised his voice again,

"You heard me Ferriman. I said get away from her!"

The furious glare left Ferriman's face as quickly as it had come, leaving behind an unsettling and dangerous calm. Too calm. Ferriman smiled a lazy smile, sending a shiver up Murphy's spine. That smile promised pain.

Without a word, Ferriman released Ashe from his grip. She sunk back against the railing, giving Murphy a funny look. Jack stepped away from her, that lazy smile playing upon his deathly calm face. Murphy stared into his glacial eyes, not backing down. The two faced off for a few moments before Ferriman finally turned to Ashe, breaking eye contact. The mask of dangerous calm left the young man's face as he gently touched her shoulder.

"I'll see you later Ashe." He flashed a fake smile and turned toward the door. He flung it open and was gone.

Murphy sagged in the aftermath of the burning pain of the Mark. Had Ferriman not turned away when he had, Murphy would have broken under that stare. When his breathing and heart rate returned to normal, Murphy turned to find Ashe still there, staring at him curiously. When his eyes met his, she looked away shyly. He knew he couldn't face her, couldn't tell her the truth. She had suffered too much, had too much bitterness. If she knew, she would most likely never forgive him, and his warnings would fall on unwilling ears. But he had to warn her, had to alert her to the fact that there was something very amiss on this ship. Another dart of pain seared Murphy's arm, and he flinched. He had to hold out now, had to keep fighting, no longer for the sake of the people on this ship, but for his daughter. Seeing that she was turning to leave, Murphy called out to her.

"Ashe, wait."

Ashe didn't know how to feel. Embarrassed, certainly. She had never been caught kissing in public before. And that man…the same one she had caught staring at her in the Blue Oyster pub earlier. What part did he play in all this? Ashe started to get an uneasy feeling as the effects of the alcohol in her blood started to die away. There was something going on here, and she had the distinct feeling that she was ignoring something very important.

Once Jack left to go inside, leaving her alone with the other man, Ashe shook her head to clear it. The way the two men had stared at each other had suggested old enmity, and she had another feeling suggesting that despite the fact that he had withdrawn, Jack appeared to have been winning.

Ashe turned to look at the older man. He slumped against the rail a few meters from her, his eyes closed and his breathing deliberately slow. As the effects of the beer continued to subside, Ashe was hit with the enormity of what she had just done. She had told Jack…almost everything. She had told him about her past, about herself and her family. She had allowed herself to trust him. Tears filled Ashe's eyes before she blinked them away. Now that Jack was gone, she felt incredibly stupid and naïve. Not to mention that her previous feelings of safety were gone, blown away in the wind with Jack's departure.

Suddenly, the other man turned to face her. She looked away quickly, remembering when he had done the same thing in the pub earlier. Her fear of being stared at returned with a jolt, leaving her feeling sick. She took one last glance at the man before bolting for the door, determined to return to her room and have a good cry. But his voice stopped her, hitting her from behind in a gust of wind.

"Ashe, wait."

How did he know her name? Panic seared through her. He couldn't possibly be the one she was looking for… Ashe hesitated before turning around, but then felt very stupid indeed. Of course. The man must have heard Jack's parting words to her. Shaking her head slightly at her paranoia, Ashe turned to face the man.

"Yes?"

She caught his gaze, and was surprised at the hurt and anguish displayed there. She took a hesitant step closer, her abhorrence of people magnified after being absent all afternoon. His dark hair whipped around his face in the wind, matching Ashe's. Her ponytail must have slipped loose while she was…a blush crept across Ashe's face as she remembered what this man had just caught her doing. 'Never again,' Ashe promised herself, 'Never again.'

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" the man replied, motioning to the rail beside him.

Ashe's eyes narrowed slightly, but she reluctantly strode over and leaned against the railing, facing out to sea. She closed her eyes, steadying her breathing and using the lulling effect of the sea to calm her nerves. Why were all these people noticing her all of a sudden?

When she turned to face the older man, she found him in the same posture as she was, staring out at the horizon. A flash of something passed through Ashe, but she didn't investigate what it was. She found she didn't really want to know. The guy turned to her.

"Makes you wish you were out there, doesn't it?" he murmured, "Out amongst that blue world where you can make your own rules."

Surprised, Ashe turned to look at him. His eyes were fixed on her with an expression she could almost call fatherly. He looked sad, beaten, as if he couldn't take any more of the world's torture. He looked like she often felt. His gaze never left her, wandering over her face, seeming to drink her in. Ashe was starting to feel a bit weirded out around this guy, but she decided to hear him out, since he had taken the time to call her over.

After a few moments of silence, during which the two of them stared out to sea, he turned to her and held out his hand.

"I don't think I've introduced myself. I'm Sean Murphy."

Ashe clasped his hand. His grip was firm and his hands felt rough, as if he was accustomed to manual work.

"I've seen you before," she replied, "in the Blue Oyster. You seemed interested in me for some reason." She left it there, letting a hint of question seep into her voice. She wanted an explanation as to what he had to do with Jack and why he was so opposed to him kissing her.

Instead, she received a shocked look. Murphy's eyes narrowed and his brows knitted together.

"You saw me?" he asked in a voice that held a touch of an Irish accent. For some reason, this seemed to alarm him.

"Yeah," Ashe replied, attempting to figure out why that would bother him so much, "I have this thing, I guess. I know when someone's watching me."

This did little to ease him, but he quickly covered up his bewilderment. There was definitely something going on here that Ashe didn't like, and she was afraid she knew what it was. A few reactions crossed her mind, but she would have to make sure he was the one before confronting him. Words flashed through her mind, memories and veiled threats.

"Find him, Ashe..."

"Stop him..."

"This is your second chance..."

"Your only second chance…"

"I should go," she told Murphy hurriedly, feeling her fear of strangers and speaking to people come flooding back. It was all she could do not to bolt off. Instead, she calmly swung her purse back onto her shoulder and took off at a fast walk toward the door, telling herself she hadn't seen that hurt look in his eyes.

When she got back to her apartment, Ashe collapsed on the bed, shaking like a leaf. She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth, terror and uncertainty warring within her.

Pulling up her shirt, Ashe fingered the tiny scar above her navel. It ran in a thin line from one bottom rib to the other. Ashe traced the scar a few times, feeling the weight of the charge laid upon her. She couldn't do this, she couldn't! She was small, invisible Ashe from Victoria, who nobody paid attention to and never speaks to anyone. How was she supposed to do what they had asked of her?

Ashe replaced her shirt as the memories started to flood back. She groaned and collapsed onto the bed, trying to fight back the pain and the fear. After a day of being free of her fears, Ashe felt them all tumbling back onto her. She squeezed her eyes shut, but tears leaked through them. What had she done?

Jack made sure the halls were clear of any prying eyes before vanishing and reappearing belowdecks with the gold and his crew.

With a scream of rage, he kicked the nearest thing he could find, which happened to be a crate. One of the boards flew off in the impact and went sailing across the room.

"FUCK!"

The four men in the room whipped around to stare at Jack, who turned on them.

"What the fuck's wrong with you?" Munder asked. He soon regretted these words as a steel pipe dislodged itself from some mechanics and flew across the room at him.

"Why didn't you stop him?" Jack cried as another piece of metal went zooming through Dodge's insubstantial head to hit the far wall.

The ghostly men looked around at each other and realized, entirely too late, that one was missing from their midst.

"Oh. Oops." Munder cringed and ducked as a discarded wrench went flying past his ear.

Jack fumed. He couldn't believe it. He had been so close, so CLOSE! Getting Ashe drunk had worked a charm. The brick wall around her had seemed to falter. Tiny, hairline cracks had appeared. It hadn't been much, but Jack had taken the chance, pushing his power through those tiny cracks and holes. He hadn't been able to gain any information, but he had hooked himself around her, connecting them and feeding her feelings of understanding and support, working at her like clay until she was ready to tell him anything he asked of her. He had been so close, so very close. Another few minutes and he would have had her.

But Murphy had ruined everything. He had interrupted at the crucial moment, when Jack would either risk losing Ashe's trust by forcing Murphy to leave, or lose the connection by walking away. Jack had chosen to leave. That way the trust that Ashe had given him had a chance of being repaired.

Jack didn't know if it was possible to rebuild that bond, but he was willing to give it one more try. After all, if Ashe let him in, she may just prove useful to his plans. It would be a terrible thing to waste, but her time was quickly running out.

He turned back toward his 'crew', trying hard to steady his breathing. Murphy would pay for his intrusion. Enough was enough. Murphy had had his taste of rebellion, now it was time for Jack to take control of the situation. But first, he would deal with the idiots that let Murphy get out in the first place.

"What happened?" Dodge was asking.

Jack gave a short laugh. "What happened?" he repeated, "What happened is that your old buddy lost me my last chance at getting through to that bitch. I was so close, I HAD her!" Jack clenched his fist to his chest to emphasize his point, and then slammed it into the side of the enormous steel pipe he was leaning against. "He made a scene, called attention to himself. Forced me to leave, the fucking idiot!"

Jack gave another cry of rage, venting more of his anger and frustration by causing a chain to snap high above. The pipe that the chain had held up came crashing down on his companions, forcing them to scatter.

Jack's hands rose to press into his temples, fighting the headache that threatened. He didn't need this stress now. He couldn't afford to lose time or concentration now, when he was so close to the edge. Management wasn't happy with his last mistake, and he couldn't afford to fuck up again. He needed to get his act together, and that started with getting control of his charges. Ignoring the cursing and shouting from his companions, Jack turned his back on them and sent his mind out towards Murphy's. He found the old man exactly where Jack had left him. Ashe was with him, but as Jack watched she left, probably to return to her room.

Jack watched and waited. Murphy had nowhere else to go. Eventually, he would return belowdecks. And when he did…

A cruel smile twisted Jacks features as he sat down on a crate to wait.

Murphy wanted to call out to her, to drag her back, to hold her down; anything so that he could warn her of the danger she was putting herself into. But he couldn't. He hadn't realized how afraid she truly was of speaking to people, but no matter how hard she tried to hide it, the look in her eyes had been that of blatant mistrust and fear. Ferriman had been right; the girl had problems. And it was all Murphy's fault.

As she turned to walk away, Murphy's arm rose, almost as if to grab her own arm, but he let it fall to his side as she swung through the door. Her carefully unhurried step showed just how much she wanted to escape him.

His daughter…The daughter he had always had, but had never wanted. Murphy didn't want to make himself think about how different things might have been for her had he stayed, had he taken responsibility. Until now, Murphy had put the guilt at the back of his mind, letting it sit there until he had forgotten it, until he was able to live without the shadow of his mistakes haunting him. And now there she was, damaged and unstable, fragile and fearful, because of a past that was devoid of any parental love or friendly support. And now, unless Murphy could do something, she was going to die. She would die without knowing, without ever feeling what it was to be loved, truly loved. And it was all Murphy's fault.

He sighed, fighting back the tears of self-loathing that threatened to overwhelm him. He knew he had to go back to the hold sometime, had to face Ferriman's ire. He didn't care what Ferriman did to him. He deserved whatever pain the bastard inflicted. But he would keep fighting. Because if Ashe died here, alone and afraid, Murphy knew he would never forgive himself.

Murphy started to make his way slowly toward the bottom decks, making himself invisible to the living eye once again. He didn't want to be seen right now.

If Ashe was Marked she would be trapped here on this ship with him, and having to face the sad, fragile girl that his selfishness had helped create would be a torture he couldn't possibly stand. The pain would haunt him every hour of every day for the better part of eternity, and compared to that prospect Murphy would take any pain Ferriman or anyone else dished him out. Because it was only what he deserved.

With a sigh of resignation, Murphy opened the door to the cargo hold and thumped down the stairs, eyeing the chaos Ferriman's burst of temper had created with apprehension. Ignoring his former crewmates, Murphy's eyes swung to Ferriman, sitting on a crate with his back turned.

As Murphy descended the last stair, he materialized. Ferriman had undoubtedly felt him coming, and this assumption was proved correct when, without turning, Ferriman spoke.

"Welcome back, Murphy. Did you enjoy your walk? I hope so, because it's the last thing you do as a free soul."

With that, Ferriman whipped around to face Murphy and their eyes locked.

Ferriman's eyes were like chunks of brilliant blue ice. They bored into Murphy's very being, tore through his mind like an arrow. Murphy's hand erupted in pain so intense that he was driven to his knees. The pain slowly spread up his arm until he could no longer see anything but those icy blue orbs that seemed to glow against the darkness of the large room. At that moment, Murphy knew that Ferriman's intent was to break him, to enslave his soul completely so that he could no longer disobey.

From far away, Murphy felt his body collapse to the ground, screaming in agony. But that no longer mattered. What mattered was the battle that raged internally, a simple battle of wills between the soul collector and his charge.

Ferriman's voice came into Murphy's mind, a whiplash that cut his mind as effectively as any exterior pain.

"Give it up old man. You're not as strong as you used to be. There's no point in holding out, you'll only do yourself more damage. You can't win, and you can't escape. I'm just going to keep pushing harder and harder until you break, and there's nothing you can do to stop me. Give in now and save yourself a lot of pain."

Murphy tried to fight against the pressure that built up in the back of his mind, the realization that submission was the only way out.

"Damn you, Ferriman, I won't give up yet! I won't give in until she's safe!" The words bubbled forth in his mind before he could stop them and he regretted them immediately when he felt Ferriman's suspicion and curiosity.

"Until who's free?"

Murphy knew he couldn't lie, not when Ferriman had him like this. He sighed with resignation.

"Ashe. Leave her alone, Ferriman. I'm warning you."

Murphy felt Ferriman smirk. "You think you can scare me, old man? Why should I leave her alone? Why's she so important to you?"

Murphy had been dreading that question, but knew that he had to answer it. Ferriman would know if he was lying, and he had ways of finding out anyway.

"She's…she's my…"

"She's what, Murphy? Spit it out, I don't have all day."

A surge of rage and hatred welled up inside Murphy's pain-filled mind, a rage so intense that for a moment the pain paled in comparison.

"Because, you fucking bastard, she's my daughter."