[A/N- for those of you who asked for more Alinnya, here she is. Thank you for all the splendid reviews! What more could a girl ask for?]
There she was, in the crow's nest, watching the grey horizon in all directions. She stretched, holding herself by the rigging above her head. It would storm soon. Perfect.
There was no way that she could pull the demons out of her past and square with them without also losing her sanity. But staying on watch was the closest she could come. It wasn't particularly difficult. A trained eye noticed any spots or imperfections on the horizon fairly quickly. Her mind rerouted itself and gave the physical task a secondary position.
What the hell was she doing? Flirting with disaster? Had she forgotten every hard- learned lesson that she'd been scarred with? Men were not to be trusted, or desired, but played with and manipulated and seduced into doing whatever she pleased. The only time her resources had failed her was that last time, back in the captain's quarters, where her wits had finally run out and she'd paid for it. Dearly. The humiliation he'd given her was not something she could easily forgive him. Part of this treasure was hers. But the greatest treasure was to drop him on his knees, to lower him the way she knew she could. She could not forgive him for hanging her over the side of the ship, bleeding, screaming as the sharks breached in their attempts to reach her. Not all of the scars she had were physical. In fact, few of them were. And something inside her had snapped, standing on that auction block in a worthless white shift, branded and belittled and watching as the man she had simultaneously hated and desired walked the other way. Something so great and so final that she had blacked out with the strength of it.
How do you like it?
This blackness and permanent ache of her heart was something she knew would never be fully fixed. Some scars don't show, and even fewer fully heal. She would see Captain Jonathan Brady down on his knees, begging, for what she didn't know. Her brain was so wrapped around the image of him doing so that she could barely get her mind around it.
But the sea air…
Salt and sweat and blood. Life and death. These were stitched into every thread of the sails, hewn in every timber of the hull, forged in every link of the chains, the barrels of the guns, the locks of the brig. This was the sea, and a pirates ship, and she was lost to this life until it claimed her, so she had learned to love it. She was too far gone for polite society, too homely for courting, too independent for motherhood. She was lost to this world until it claimed her. And right now, that suited her just fine.
But Jack… she could behave civilly and human in his presence. It was a front she'd owned for years, how hard could it be to keep it? Never mind the cracks and chips in the wall around her emotions he was striking so readily. She could fix those. She could make those walls thicker. After all, she had five years to back her up, and what did he have? Two days? He was nothing particularly special, no more so than she was, or Jonathan had been. This was for her. Maybe Jack… Captain Sparrow wanted a boat that could cross the Atlantic and reach the Caribbean. Probably so. But she wanted a small, fast ship, low and lean and untouchable, and she'd slaughter all those who dared interrupt her imperfect peace. She was already alone, why should she not complete the cycle? She could right now, and plunge into the deep blue, shark- infested deathbed of the Strait of Gibraltar…
No. There were things left to do. Besides, Jack…
She shook her head, mentally screaming the incomplete thought out of her system.
No. No! No no no no NO! Never! Nothing! No one…