Disclaimer: I own no rights to Ghost Ship or any of its characters etc. I'll be so glad when this story is finished and I don't have to do any more of these bloody disclaimers!

Author's Note: No, I have not given up. 'Ghost Ship II: Second Chances' has never left my mind over these long months, and I've been slowly picking away at this chapter through intense writer's block. I promise I'll update more often now that it's almost over, and this time I mean it. So now, without further ado, Chapter 16.

Chapter 16

Jack rose from his seat atop the crate and stretched. He was satisfied that his plan couldn't fail. Everything was good.

Then, of course, things started to go wrong. It was just his fucking luck lately.

The door to the hold banged open to admit Dodge and Munder.

"Hey boss," Munder yelled, "We've got a problem."

Jack raised a hand and rubbed his eyes with it.

"Let me guess," he grumbled, "Somebody saw the body and now there's a huge panic onboard?"

"No," Munder wheedled, and despite Jack's relief he wondered what could possibly be worse than that scenario.

"What then?" he demanded of the greasy-haired ghost now descending the stairs.

Munder looked reluctant to respond, so Dodge spoke up. The blonde man looked disturbed as well.

"There was nothing there, Jack," Dodge spat, saying Jack's name as if it was a curse, "Not a trace. So either somebody's already removed her or she's not as dead as you think. Either way, it seems to me like you've fucked up royally once again. Good going."

Enraged, Jack narrowed his eyes and shot a bolt of power through the Mark in Dodge's hand. The young man screamed and collapsed, his right hand held to his chest in pain.

"That's a bit mouthy coming from somebody who also tried to kill somebody but didn't quite manage it, eh Dodge?" Jack jeered, giving the blonde ghost a good kick in the ribs while the others watched with carefully blank expressions.

His former good mood forgotten, Jack broke away from the small knot of ghosts and started pacing. Dodge was right. This was not good. Maybe he should go back upstairs and check out what the word was. Hopefully there was a huge uproar over the discovery of a murdered corpse at the prow. If that were the case, he could simply go ahead with his plan before an investigation started. If not, that meant the bitch was still alive. And that worried him.

He remembered the mocking laughter that had seeped from her, the memory of it making his skin crawl. Whatever that bitch was, she wasn't human.

"I'm going up," he said to nobody in particular, and not waiting for an answer he took the stairs two at a time and swung the heavy door wide. It banged against the wall with a clang, and then he was out in the light of the stairs.

Munder cringed with everyone else as the door slammed shut behind Jack.

"He's gone," he said, helping Dodge to his feet. His best friend in life, Dodge had stuck with Munder through the best and worst of times. Now they were trapped together under Ferriman's control.

Dodge cradled his right arm where the Mark had stung him as Munder helped him over to a crate.

"What happened out there, you guys?" Greer asked. The former first-mate of the Arctic Warrior came to sit by Dodge, Santos trailing behind them. Murphy still lay unmoving on the cold metal floor a few feet away.

"Just like we said," Dodge croaked, his voice hoarse from the residual pain of the Mark, "There was no body. We searched the entire deck, but there was nothing. Not a drop of blood. Nothing."

Despite himself, Munder grinned. "The look on Ferriman's face…it was like Christmas had been cancelled."

Dodge chuckled, then winced as it jarred his arm. "God, I hope she made it."

"Yeah," Santos agreed with a nod, "I liked her. Spunky, si?"

Greer added his own nod. "She's Murph's alright."

The four of them peered over at Murphy, immediately sobering.

"Shit," Dodge said with a passion, "I hope he makes it, too."

"He's a fighter, man," Santos said quietly, "Always has been. He'll make it."

"What happens if he doesn't?" Greer asked after a brief pause, "What'll Ferriman do if he doesn't wake up? Or does he just fade away?"

Nobody answered. They all sat staring at their fallen captain, silently willing him to get up and lead them like he used to.

Ashe had never felt so drained. Emotionally, physically, mentally. She hadn't had any rest because of her dream, and every inch of her body hurt from the fight the previous night.

She had risen after waking up from her dream and had realized she was hungry. She vaguely remembered that she hadn't eaten since breakfast the previous day.

Thinking back on all that had happened the day before, Ashe couldn't believe it had only been twenty-four hours.

She pondered over her options. Jack knew about her, and she knew about him. Knowing his record as a soul collector, she knew he would probably already have a plan. He was one of the best in the business, after all, she thought bitterly. And it was only a matter of time before he executed his plan and killed everybody onboard the Arctic Pearl. She knew that she couldn't stop him if it came to that, so she had to stop him before he could do it. But how?

He was probably out there right now, wandering around, recruiting people to his cause, fattening these innocent people up on sin before he butchered them. Ashe had never liked people in general, but she had nothing against these strangers that were all about to be brutally murdered.

And what would happen when her body wasn't discovered? Jack would know she was alive, and he would come looking for her. She couldn't stay in her room, much as the thought appealed to her, but she couldn't wander around the ship on her own, either. It would be too easy for him to find her. And then what would she do? No, she decided, a direct confrontation was not what she needed right now.

So what were her remaining options? The first was to return to the hold and see if Murphy was okay. But those other ghosts, Marked ghosts, were down there. It would be like walking into a trap.

Silently praying that Murphy was indeed still down there and still somehow fighting, she discarded that option. That left only one logical choice: if she couldn't wander around vulnerable, but still had to work on her own, she would have to do the thing she dreaded the most: hide in a crowd. The thought of it made her want to vomit but she had to admit that it was the only way to do her job safely.

"Shit," she said, with feeling. The empty room didn't respond.

She took another short shower, wincing at the feel of hot water on her still-fresh wounds, and dressed in clean jeans and a fitted lavender t-shirt. Nothing Jack had ever seen her in, so she wouldn't be immediately recognizable. Glancing at herself in the bathroom mirror, she grimaced. Not that she'd look recognizable anyway.

Adding a black cardigan to conceal the bruises and cuts on her arms, she put her hair back in a low bun, so that her hair colour wouldn't be clearly visible. She would have worn a hat as well if she had brought one. She then applied a heavy dose of concealer to hide the greenish circles under her eyes, then some mascara and finally some demure pink lipstick. Satisfied that she looked almost alive and very forgettable, she dug around in her bag for her sunglasses and completed her 'disguise' with the mirrored lenses. Not a brilliant fashion statement, but that was the farthest thing from her mind at the moment.

Mentally repeating the mantra 'I'll be fine, I'll be fine, I'll be fine,' Ashe grabbed her purse and slipped out of her cabin, pausing to make sure it was locked behind her. Not that it would stop Jack or one of his ghosts from getting in, but it made her feel better.

She passed by the Blue Oyster, which was almost deserted at this time of the morning, on her way upstairs. Thinking of the good time she and Jack had had there less than a day ago made her nauseous, so she sped up and soon she was on the third deck and heading for the Java Shack. As a coffee shop, it would hopefully be packed at this hour.

Sure enough, the small café was filled to bursting with other passengers. They were laughing, talking, sipping coffee. Ashe stopped dead in the middle of the hallway, a whimper coming to her throat. She really didn't like people. They were all talking and laughing, and to Ashe they were laughing at her. 'Look at that stupid girl with sunglasses on indoors,' they seemed to say, 'Who does she think she's kidding? And that ugly t-shirt! Ha!'

Ashe bit her lip so hard it bled, but she wouldn't let herself turn around. Not this time. What had the Gatekeeper said? 'Guilty of Restraint?' Ashe shook her head hard and set her jaw. Determination had never been her strong point, but damned if she couldn't learn. She had been a shadow for too long; it was time to face what the world dealt her. That was what her second chance was for, and she didn't believe in wasting second chances. Not anymore.

Taking a steadying breath, Ashe straightened her spine, lifted her chin and strode forward into the crowd of people. She hoped she looked confident, maybe even haughty. She hoped she looked as if she didn't care what others thought. She hoped - she hoped Jack wasn't anywhere nearby, she thought with a grim smile.

She listened to the buzz of conversation around her, not expecting to be noticed. She was never noticed. Why should that change? Feeling uncharacteristically safe with so many people surrounding her, Ashe risked removing her glasses for a moment.

With a trill of shock, Ashe remembered two days ago, sitting right over there at that corner table with Jack, thinking the exact same thing and wondering why, out of everyone, he had chosen to notice her.

Ashe got to the counter and ordered a large latte to go and a blueberry muffin. Moving to the side to wait for her order, she spotted the blonde waitress she had known in university, Melinda Harper. She was waiting tables again, and as she passed by she gave Ashe a very funny look. As if she was trying to talk herself out of something.

It was then that Ashe had a realization. Of course! Melinda must know, somehow, that Ashe had been dead for two years. That's why Melinda hadn't recognized her the first time Ashe had been in the Java Shack, and that was why she was being stared at now.

Ashe dared a glance in Melinda's direction, only to see the blonde girl raise a hand to swipe at her eye. Then she turned around and Ashe saw that she was crying. Alarmed, Ashe wondered what could be wrong with the girl. She hadn't been crying a moment ago. Had something splashed in her eye?

As Ashe watched, Melinda swiped her eye again, smearing her perfectly applied mascara. The girl turned and head for the swinging door that led to the café kitchens. Just before she disappeared, Melinda cast one last tearful, almost longing look in Ashe's direction. The two women's eyes met for a moment, and Melinda's mouth curled up at the corners in a sad little smile. Then, with new tears dripping down her face, she disappeared behind the swinging door.

"Miss? This your order?"

Ashe snapped out of her shocked trance to see her latte and muffin on the counter.

"Thanks," she said to the guy behind the counter, who smiled at her.

Grabbing her breakfast, Ashe made her way hurriedly from the Java Shack and only when she was halfway down the hall did she remember she was supposed to stay in the crowd. But she couldn't stay in the Java Shack. Not when she risked seeing Melinda again. Something about the way the blonde girl had looked t her made her really uncomfortable.

Making a split-second decision, Ashe headed for the fourth-floor lounge. With its noisy games and loud, talking people, it would be the last place Jack would expect to find her.

She high-tailed it up the stairs, not daring to look to the left or right in case she saw him. She kept her head down and when she finally made it to the lounge she sank gratefully into a squishy chair by the wall and turned it so that her back faced the rest of the room.

After taking a few deep breaths and a few sips of warm, sweetened coffee, she felt a bit better. Realizing she had better look like she was doing something, she dug around in her purse. She desperately wanted to read, but even if she'd brought a novel with her she couldn't risk letting her attention wander from her surroundings.

Finally uncovering a piece of lined paper from the depths of her purse, Ashe found a pencil and drew herself a rough sketch of the ship's layout, from what she'd seen of it. She munched on her muffin and sketched until she was happy with what she'd drawn. It wasn't perfect, but she thought she had the five passenger decks pretty well proportioned. Then, next to the drawings of each of the decks, she started to compile a list of the things on each deck that could be hazardous or dangerous. That would probably be where Jack started, so it was logical that she do the same in order to anticipate his next move.

This was the hardest part of her job: trying to know what Jack would do before he did it. But it was also, in a way, the easiest part. Ashe had always been an expert problem solver; that was required of a scientist. Identify the problem, brainstorm ideas, find the perfect solution and put it into action. It was what she did, and after such a long time away from the normal world this familiar process helped soothe her mind. That was, once she forgot about exactly why she was doing it.

By the time she was sucking the last bit of foam from her latte, Ashe had gone through all her ideas. But she knew that in order to have a better idea of what she was facing, she had to go and explore more thoroughly. That meant she had to leave the safety of her cozy chair and creep around deserted areas of the ship. She tried thinking of better options, but none came. To her analytical mind, miscalculation was unacceptable. Any slight mistake she worked with could give him enough of an upper hand to go right through any defense she put up. And that couldn't be allowed to happen.

With a gusty sigh, Ashe tucked the map and pencil into her purse, then stood slowly. She turned around, the chair between her and the room, and scanned the area for any sign of Jack, Murphy or any of those other ghosts. When none of them appeared, she let out the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding and stepped around the chair. She dumped her coffee cup in a trash can on her way out of the lounge and figured that the best place to start her investigation (and the least likely place to find Jack) was on the fifth floor.

She headed up the stairs to the fifth floor lounge, which was filled with natural light. Looking up, Ashe realized why: the ceiling was made of plexi-glass. For stargazing in cold weather, she presumed. She couldn't believe she hadn't noticed this death trap before, and hurriedly scribbled it down on her map.

Half an hour later, after having a good look around and harassing a few crewmen about the intricate workings of the engine, the electrical equipment, the steering mechanism and anything else that came to mind about the Arctic Pearl, Ashe decided that she was as prepared as she was going to get.

Which didn't reassure her much.

She had ended up on the first cabin deck, and wondered if she should risk going back to her room to get rid of the coffee that had decided to make its reappearance in her bladder. Just as she thought this, she spotted it: the staircase Murphy had taken her to last night. The stairs to the hold.

Ashe averted her eyes and hurried past, holding her breath until she was out of sight. She had seen all she needed to. She started out walking quickly, but by the time she reached the stairwell she was running. She bolted up the stairs and not until she was on the third deck did she pause to take another breath.

It hadn't been the smartest idea to bring attention to herself by running, but she couldn't help it. She was paranoid, and she was stressed out. She needed to go outside.

She had scanned the fifth floor deck, where sunbathers and sightseers had created a big enough crowd to hide in. But she had been tense, and hadn't taken the time to soak up the sight of the water. Couldn't, with all the people around.

And yet, she knew she couldn't go out on the fourth floor deck, where she had died the night before. That would be one of the most obvious spots for Jack to look for her, and he would probably put somebody there to watch it for him. He wasn't stupid, after all.

Ashe sighed. What was she going to do? She had no idea where to go from here. Her superiors had given her no hints as to how to go about stopping the soul collector, only that she had to stop him. Some help they were.

Hearing a small warning in the back of her mind, Ashe rolled her eyes. 'Okay, okay,' she thought, 'you guys saved my ass last night. But not really. He still got me.'

The heavenly equivalent to a 'beggers can't be choosers' met this, and then nothing.

Ashe stuck her tongue out at whoever might be watching, gaining a few quick glances from a passing group of Japanese tourists.

Well that was just great. If she had been expecting some divine enlightenment, she certainly wasn't going to get it now. She was on her own. And she still didn't know what to do with herself. She was running scared. Eventually she'd have to confront Jack in some way or another, 'cause she couldn't keep hiding like this. It was too tiring, and she was constantly on edge. Not, she amended, that she wasn't constantly on edge anyway.

For the billionth time, Ashe wondered why she of all people had been sent to do this. She had to be the worst person in the universe for this job.

After a second's deliberation, she let out a small growl of frustration. Fuck it. She was going outside, and he could come for her for all she cared. What could he do to her in full daylight with witnesses around? Besides, in her current emotional state, she would probably attack him, instead.

Frustration and exhaustion fueling her confidence, Ashe reapplied her sunglasses and headed up to the fourth floor. After a quick stop in the public restrooms, she stepped out of the exterior door into warm sunlight. Yesterday's rain seemed a pale memory in the gorgeous weather. She took a deep, reverent breath of sea air and crossed to the railing where Jack had cornered her the first day of the cruise.

Pushing back painful memories of how Jack had duped her, Ashe closed her eyes and let the sound of the sea soothe her, then opened them to scan the sunny horizon. A few islands dotted the endless blue in the distance like giant sea turtles surfacing. It reminded her of the British Columbia coast where she had grown up. Good memories and bad.

She didn't know how long she just stood there at the railing, but she didn't even jump when she felt a presence next to her. He leaned against the railing beside her, just as he had the first day.

"What're you thinking, Ashe?"

She paused, considering.

"Nothing. That's the best part."

"Hmmm."

Strangely enough, Ashe wasn't panicking. She wasn't getting the insane adrenaline rush she had expected. She was resigned, and ready for anything he threw at her. At least while she was still entranced by the motion of the water.

"So," he began, thrusting his hands into his pockets and turning to look at her, "How 'bout you tell me just what the fuck you are?"

Not taking her eyes from the horizon, Ashe smiled at his question.

"Eloquently phrased," she commented before finally taking her eyes from the still water. And wished she hadn't.

His eyes were like icy whirlpools, cold and depthless, sucking in her gaze and pulling it downward. The panic set in now, and the realization that they were very alone on the deck.

"Y'know, Ashe, you've sorely underestimated me. The whole basis of my power is the ability to persuade, to get inside someone's mind and make them do what I want them to. I can also track a person by the feel of their mind, and yours sticks out like a beacon among these normal people.

"I've been tailing you all morning, you know, and you never even noticed. I wanted to wait till you came out here. I knew you'd crack eventually. And you did. It was nothing at all to 'convince' the people out here to go back inside, so we're completely alone. And it'll stay that way, so don't bother screaming. If someone hears you, they'll think it was the wind. Now answer my goddamned question: What the fuck are you?"

Jack used the exact words Epps had but days ago without even thinking.

Ashe's hopes dimmed as she realized she had lost again. He had been playing with her the whole time, laughing as she tried to disguise herself physically while all the while he was keeping tabs on her mentally. He was a pro, and she was just an amateur. There was no way she could best him.

'Face it Ashe,' she berated herself, 'You're a screw-up, and these people are doomed.'

He had boxed her in without her noticing, her back now pressed flush to the railing. One of his hands rested on each side of her as he leaned in, a menacing look on his handsome face. Not daring to recall the last time they had been in such a position, Ashe swallowed hard and took a deep breath. The smell of the salt air calmed her nerves more than she thought possible, causing her to grin inwardly.

Jack thought he had cornered her with her weak spot; little did he know that this was where she was strongest.

"Answer me!" he yelled.

Ashe smiled, finding it easier to be brave than she had thought. The sound of the waves hitting the ship's hull and the cry of a lost seagull filled her ears, fueling her courage.

She put her hands on his shoulders and before he could notice the change in her, she had pushed him far enough away from her that she could duck out of his reach.

"Y'know what, Jack?" she asked, trying for a mocking tone but getting only a shaking croak, "How about you answer a question for me? Like what have you done with Murphy?"

Jack smirked, his cold blue eyes laughing at her.

"How cute," he sneered, "She thinks she's tough. Well, I guess since you tried so hard, I'll answer you. Your dear old man is gone. Gone for good. He's left you, for the second time, all because of your meddling self. If it weren't for you, he wouldn't have fought as hard and he'd still be around. Still feeling brave, Ashe?"

"No." Not an answer, but a denial. He was lying. He had to be lying. Ashe stood for a moment in shock before something, a dam within her, finally burst. She was filled, not with fear, but with an icy rage. It swept over her, sharpening her vision to knife-edged clarity and dulling the aches in her muscles.

Suddenly, she wasn't afraid anymore. Not of people, not of death, and definitely not of Jack. Her whole life, she had never gotten angry. She hadn't been angry at her father for leaving her and her mother alone. She hadn't been angry at her mother for never being home, for never giving her the love she needed. She had never gotten angry at the kids on the playground that had laughed at her because she was poor, because she was ugly. She had never been angry at the boys who had used her, who had rid her of her innocence like it was a game.

She had never gotten truly angry. Instead, she had blamed herself, driven herself to the limit to distance her from the rest of humanity. She had used fear to mask her rage, to protect her from what might happen if that rage were ever unleashed.

Guilty of Restraint. She had restrained her anger, her rage at the injustice of the world. She had restrained herself, running scared from her problems instead of facing them down. That had been her mistake, and that was why she had this second chance. Well, she wasn't going to waste it. Not anymore.

All the rage that had built up inside her since she was born now fled its restraints and focused upon a single target: Jack.

"No!" she screamed, and lunged herself at Jack. His eyes widened in surprise, and before he could dodge she went flying into him, tackling him to the deck with a scream of primal rage.

She wasn't afraid anymore. And she wasn't going to run. She was going to fight, and she was going to win.