Disclaimer: No own...blah blah...no money...blah blah...don't sue me plz. Thankies!

A/N: Well, here we go again. I've cut this story down slightly as I've been getting less and less time to work on it, so it'll only be about 15-16 chapters. It'll still have the ending I wanted, but it'll be compacted and not as vividly described as I would have hoped. Now, it's getting close to the end, so hold on!

Chapter 13

Jack lunged forward, the knife held in front of him, aimed right for Ashe's midriff. His thoughts buzzed out of control. How could she know about him? Did Murphy tell her? Did she believe the old man over him? Why had she suddenly changed from the timid young girl he knew to this angry, slightly dangerous woman? What the hell was going on? And who the hell was she, really?

He didn't care. All he had to do was kill the bitch, mark her, and ask questions later. He didn't have time for this shit, not now, when he was already behind schedule.

Suddenly, Jack was snapped back to reality as his shoulder hit the opposite wall of the staircase. Losing his balance, he cartwheeled his arms on the edge of the stair, trying to keep from falling backwards.

Ashe was nowhere to be seen. In the split second it had taken Jack to reach her, she had vanished. What the FUCK was going on here?

Ashe sagged in a sitting position against the door, gasping for breath, her heart clogging her throat and making it hard to inhale. She concentrated on slowing down her breathing, taking one breath at a time. She was shaking, and the hand she had placed on her chest quaked with nerves. It had taken every ounce of strength she had not to react when she had seen that knife. Painful memories chased through her mind as she caught her breath. She had maybe a few minutes before Jack found her, only because he wouldn't know where to look at first.

-Flashback-

She followed Murphy down the stairs, still not sure about trusting him. Halfway down, he turned and grasped her shoulders, his touch still so cold. Somehow, in the half-light, he didn't seem entirely.substantial. It made her wonder who exactly this Murphy guy was. But the look in his eyes: grief, mingled with fear and determination, calmed her trepidation a bit.

"Ashe," he said, "Ashe, this is important, you need to believe me. It's Ferriman.Jack. He's not what you think he is. He's."

But before Murphy could finish, Ashe cut him off. She had already guessed what he was going to say.

"I know," she said, taking one of his icy cold hands and squeezing it reassuringly, "I know what he is. I can't believe it took me this long to figure it out.Oh, I was so stupid." She trailed off at the arrested look in the old man's eyes.

"You know about Ferriman?" he choked, spacing his words out as if afraid that, if placed to close together, they may shatter.

"I know about the Salvager," Ashe said, watching Murphy's expression change from shock to suspicion to worry, and finally to relief.

"How-"

But Murphy never finished his question, for which Ashe might have been thankful, but for the fact that it was due to apparent pain. Murphy collapsed in on himself, moaning. Ashe reached out to help him, but just then he fell backwards, out of her reach. He tumbled into a crumpled heap at the foot of the stairs. Taking a moment to catch her balance, Ashe was ready to run down after him when the shadow passed over her. She tensed, her reflexes kicking in at a sign of danger.

Spinning around, she wasn't surprised to see Jack's form silhouetted against the light from the hallway. Her eyes flickered to the long knife in his hands. At this, images bombarded her.

A knife, a dark alleyway, screaming, no help, no hope.

Swallowing hard, she realized that knew what Jack was. There was no doubt in her mind that the thing she had been searching for had been right under her nose the whole time. And now he had come to kill her.

"It's you," she said, softly but with a deadly undertone. If he had shed his illusions, she may as well shed her own. She stood up straighter, taking a fight or flight stance, trying desperately to hide the fear and uneasiness that was growing inside her like a gale wind, ready to rip her to shreds.

Jack smiled, but there was no trace of the caring young man she had come to know. This man - thing, really - was a cold-blooded killer, pure and simple. It broke her heart.

"Stay away from me," she said, her strong command coming out as a harsh whisper.

Jack appeared not to have heard her. "So," he said, still twirling the thing, "Not the partygoer then? Too bad, it's bound to get exciting tonight. But, if you'd prefer, we can just stay in."

Knowing this was probably meant to freak her out, Ashe had to smile slightly. The man had no idea who she was. Excellent.

Jack took one step down. She fought the urge to take a step down. Hell, five steps down. She stood her ground, trembling violently. She counted on him not being able to see that in the dark stairwell. He took another step down, twirling that knife in his hands. Ashe's breath hitched. She knew there was nothing he could do to her; she was too well protected. But still, the sight of that deadly, deadly weapon.

She had to stall him, had to find some way to get the hell out of this stairway. Hyperaware of Murphy's prone form behind her and knowing now what Jack could do to the man, she knew she had to get him out, too. But how? She wasn't supposed to do this. She didn't like people, didn't like them at all. Why couldn't she just get a bloody rest already?

Before she could stop herself, she did what she always did when panicked and nervous. She babbled.

"It was you," she said, catching Jack a bit by surprise, "You're the one I'm supposed to be looking for. Of course, I haven't been doing much looking, but I didn't need to, really. You came to me, and I was too blind to figure it out."

Trailing off, Ashe closed her eyes for a second. Why her? Why did she agree to come here? Then again, what choice did she have? And how could she have been so blind, so stupid? She hadn't wanted to be here, but had let her guard down enough so that the enemy had been so close to.she didn't want to think about it, didn't want to allow herself to contemplate what Jack could have learned from her, done to her.

'God,' she thought, 'I hate myself.'

Just then, like an epiphany, she had a plan. It wasn't difficult, wasn't something she couldn't have thought of herself given enough time, but it was evident that she had been helped.

"Thanks," she muttered spitefully, "Now you decide to help me."

That said she gazed up at Jack. She looked him up and down, just now realizing that for all his bravado, he was a fairly skinny guy. Tall, yes, but not as strong as he would lead one to believe. He was still twirling the knife, but now, out of immediate danger and knowing she finally had backup watching over her, Ashe smiled a little. Let the bastard wonder what was so funny.

He took another step down. Two, three. He stopped two steps up from her, trying to be intimidating. Which he was, but Ashe was determined not to let him see that. She glared at him, working her fear and nerves like clay into a solid ball of hatred. When she spoke, it was with pure venom.

"You're the salvager."

She watched the shock register on his face for an instant before he sneered.

"Good job, you found me," he said.

Then everything happened at once. Using the power she had suddenly received from her silent helper, she was able to vanish from sight. She could only hold it for a split second, but it was enough for him to be confused. She flew down the stairs two at a time, amazingly not tripping over her skirt until she reached the bottom. She went sprawling over the metal floor, catching up against Murphy's lifeless form.

'Klutz, Ashe,' she thought, remembering the first day onboard when she had fallen off her heels, bumping into Jack. Pushing that to the back of her mind, she scrambled forward, taking advantage of the dark. She suddenly realized why she had been given this dress: it blended in with the shadows, disguising her. Suddenly having a lot more faith in her superiors, Ashe managed to grab a handful of Murphy's coat and drag him to the door at the foot of the stairs. She held her hand over Murphy's chest as she prepared her next move, trying to stifle her ragged breathing and not able to fully stifle her gasp. His chest wasn't moving! He wasn't breathing, and his heart wasn't beating! Murphy was.

Unwilling to give up yet, Ashe gritted her teeth and concentrated, thinking of the instructions that had been planted in her head. She gripped Murphy's cold arm, needing flesh-to-flesh contact. Tentatively, she pressed her other hand to the wall. It went right through it. It was a weird feeling, passing through solid metal. Like when your hand goes numb and you feel that fuzzy warmth when you touch something, but not much more. Not stopping to think, Ashe took a deep breath and rolled, passing her body right through the wall. Because he was attached to her, Murphy came with her.

When she was sure she had passed completely, Ashe let out her breath. And started hyperventilating

-End Flashback-

Trying not to think about Murphy and his apparent state, Ashe looked around. She appeared to be in some kind of hold. There was very little light, and exposed pipes and gears were everywhere. There was a staircase leading down to the floor. At the bottom of the stairs, Ashe could make out a pile of crates. And that was about it.

Jack wouldn't think to look down here, as this was the one place she shouldn't have been able to go. She didn't know how long it would take for him to find her, but she had to make use of what time she had.

She let go of Murphy's arm, and it dropped limply to the ground. Ashe looked at him, wondering what Jack had done to him. She was sure it had been Jack. The bastard. She felt Murphy's chest again, searching for even some faint sign that he still lived. She held her cheek above his mouth: no breath.

Ashe let out a sob. No. This wasn't happening. Murphy was.good. He hadn't tried to trick her; he had tried to help her. She suddenly felt horrible about assuming the worst about him. Maybe.maybe there was good in the world, she thought wryly. Maybe there were people who really cared about someone like her. Or at least about the rest of the people on this ship. Ashe knew too well what would happen to them if Jack wasn't stopped. And that was her job, wasn't it? But Murphy.

A tear streaked down Ashe's face. She was surprised how strongly she felt for this man she had just met, had barely begun to trust. But.he reminded her of everything she had imagined her father to be. And losing Murphy was like losing that dream, that fantasy that her father was still out there somewhere, and he was all she dreamed he would be.

But that was stupid. She had to start thinking of a plan, and something told her she would get no help this time. She had screwed up enough as it was. First she had failed to see the Salvager right in front of her, than she had put herself in the position where she had to reveal herself to him. After helping her out of that mess, she doubted her superiors were all that pleased with her right now.

She knew she was helping nobody down here in this hold. Once she was sure Jack had left the staircase, she had to get out of here. She knew she had no choice but to leave Murphy here, that there was nothing she could do for him. She sniffed, taking a deep breath. Jack had to have left by now...right?

Ashe stood up, dusting herself off. She examined the door, searching for the handle. She hoped it wasn't locked from this side, because she sure didn't have the energy to make another pass.

She sighed in relief when she found the handle. Just as she was about to pull the door open, a voice rang out behind her.

"And where do you think you're going, chica?"

Ashe jumped a foot in the air, spinning around and screaming. She slammed her back into the door when she landed, knocking the wind out of herself. He couldn't have.he wasn't in here.

Just then, she caught sight of a man coming up the stairs toward her. It wasn't Jack, she realized with a surge of relief. The man appeared to be Hispanic, in his mid-twenties. He wore rough clothing and a bandana around his head. But what caught Ashe's eye wasn't his clothing. It was his face. Half of it was covered in horrible scars, as if he had been burned badly. He was weaponless, but he was still menacing. His half-burned lips were curled into a leering sneer, and his dark eyes glittered with malice.

"Eh?" he said again, "Where d'you think you're going, babe?"

Ashe pushed away from the wall.

"I was just leaving," she said, trying to put some authority into her voice. Maybe if he thought she was supposed to be here.

"You're not supposed to be in here in the first place, babe," he said, "This hold's off limits to passengers. And the door's locked."

Just then, she man's eyes traveled past her to the heap behind her that was Murphy. His eyes flashed.

"What did you do to him?" he said, his leer disappearing.

Ashe forced herself calm. The guy seemed to care about Murphy from his reaction. Maybe that meant that he was on her side, as well.

"I didn't do anything to him," she said, taking a prudent step back as the man advanced on her, trying to get a better look at Murphy, "Jack killed him."

She choked on the word and immediately realized she should have put it more gently. But the man didn't seem shocked. In fact, he looked at her with a grin on his face.

"Yeah, babe, we knew that. That there's old news, see. Ferriman killed all of us."

Ashe blinked. Had she heard right? She couldn't have heard.Oh, shit. Oh SHIT! Of course! Why hadn't she thought of that before?! Jack was a salvager of SOULS! Why hadn't she thought of that? He wouldn't have come here without a few minions to help him out.

Then the full meaning of it sunk in. If this man was one of Jack's victims, then he was Marked. Which meant he wasn't on her side at all. And Murphy...Ashe suddenly felt very queasy. Was this all a trap?

She thought about the young man's words: "Ferriman killed all of us."

"Us?" she squeaked, backing away from the man until her back was pressed against the door.

The leer was back. "That's right, chica. All of us. C'mon out, boys!"

Then, suddenly, they were all there. Three more, making four in total. All youngish-looking, all dressed in rough clothing, suitable to tradesmen or sailors. Sailors.Murphy! That's how they knew him! They must have worked with him, probably for a while. And that meant they all knew each other. And that meant it was very doubtful they would let her escape between them.

Backed against the door, Ashe felt the familiar panic reaction sinking in. These were all males, and they were closing in on her. Memories tore at her, threatening to eat away at her sanity. She had to escape, she had to. She fumbled behind her for the handle, but found it unmovable.

"Don't bother," sneered the blonde man with a bullet wound in his side, "I locked it. You're not going anywhere until Ferriman's done with you."

Ashe paled. So this was it. There was no way she could get out of here, and these people were all on Jack's side.

One by one, each of the four men reached the landing where the door and Ashe were, each one glancing down at Murphy's limp body. She knew now that he wasn't dead after all.well, he had been dead the whole time, and was no more so now, she amended. That would explain why he had been so cold, so insubstantial looking. And that's why he had hated Jack.

Looking around at the pack of males descending on her now, they seemed more interested in getting a look at Murphy than in containing her. She supposed they knew she wasn't going anywhere anyway.

The guy with the long, tangled hair was the first to address her.

"Hey," he said, sticking out his hand, "I'm Munder. That's Greer" He pointed to the young dark-skinned man looming over Murphy, "That's Dodge," he gestured at the blonde man, "and that's Santos." He pointed at the bandana-ed one. "I'm guessing you're Ashe?"

"Uhhh...yeah," Ashe replied warily, extending her hand and shaking his. She saw no immediate harm in these cronies of Jack's and realized they had probably been given orders not to hurt her - yet. "Hi."

Munder smiled and gestured at Murphy. "This here was the finest salvaging captain to sail the Strait. He fought with everything in him against the Mark, but I think it's finally got him."

Ashe's eyes bugged open. "What? He fought it?"

Munder eyed her beadily. "Yeah, he fought it. He was a better person than us, I guess. Said he wanted to take advantage of his second chance. Said he wanted to save you."

By now, all eyes were on her. Something about the way they were looking at her wasn't good.they were all thinking the same thing, and were trying to figure out who would be the one to say it.

It was the one named Greer who finally cleared his throat and said tentatively, "Did he tell you that he's..." Greer paused for a moment, then shook his head.

"Nope," he said, talking more to himself and to his companions than to Ashe, "She doesn't know guys."

"Shit," Dodge stated, almost cheerfully. What the hell was going on here?

"Know what?" Ashe said, trying to fight down the hysteria. How could this possibly get any worse than it already was? "What don't I know?"

Dodge grinned, malice pouring through his eyes, letting Ashe know the next few seconds were going to be very painful for her. She braced herself, but not nearly enough for what was about to be said.

Dodge sneered and pointed to the lifeless heap on the floor with evil glee.

"Ashe, Murphy's your father."