Title: Of the Sea
Rating: PG-13
Chapter Title: 15. Connected
Summary: Bootstrap and Raven.
Timeline: Flashback, approximately fourteen years previous.
Author: Cicatrix (Marin K.)

"Raven?" he asked gently, sitting down next to her. Her head was turned away from him, and he could not see her face. As he touched her shoulder, she flinched away from his hand. "Please, darling," he breathed, "don't do this."

"Leave me alone, Bill," she muttered, still not facing him. She was a young girl, only fifteen, though the day of her birth was soon approaching. Sixteen somehow seemed much older to him, and he wished she would stay a child forever, not have to grow old and lose the innocence that so endeared her to him. The dark curls that were the source of his name for her fell about her slumped shoulders in disarray. He knew she had been crying, and he could hear the edge of her tears in the hoarseness of her voice.

"Bill? What happened to Bootstrap?" It had been years since she had called him Bill, and it almost hurt to be pushed away so coldly by the young girl. But he would not leave. More and more she'd been doing this, hiding her face from him, refusing to speak. It frightened him. He knew something was wrong, and this girl, so much younger than he was, had become a sister or daughter, somehow connected to him. He knew he must protect her, but wished he could know from what.

Surely, he had not... but he had to be sure. He reached a hand through the veil of her hair, taking her chin a forcing her to face him. Her skin was not so pale is it had been when first she had come to this place, for now it was made bronze by the sun's rays. It was not the golden hues of her skin that alarmed him, but the purple bruise which flowered on her perfect cheek. She lowered her eyes in shame.

"Did Tom do that to you, darling?" he whispered, and she tried to turn away. "Don't look away, please don't. Sweetheart, did he hit you?" Bootstrap begged, and if it were possible, her shoulders bowed further. Her eyes were moist from tears previously shed, or perhaps from those she had not yet given. Weakly, she nodded, and he felt every muscle in his body tense. That man, who had once loved his beautiful daughter so much and so well, who had been so tender and careful, whose eyes had misted over with affection each time he looked at the girl who had once played with young William... how could he hurt her?

Carefully, he gathered her up in his arms, sighing as he felt her arms find their way around his neck. He sighed as he held her against his chest, recognizing the wetness of her tears on his shirt. How many times had this very scene repeated itself, though the bruises were not always the same? How many more times?

"It's not his fault," she whispered, and Bootstrap knew he had heard the same thing too many times to believe it, "he drinks too much. He doesn't know what he's doing." It was true, but no excuse. Tom was drunk more often than sober now, and he'd been that way since his wife had died giving birth to another man's child. He'd loved her, but she'd been lonely. Bill wondered about his own wife and young son, back in England, if they were happy, how they fared with him an entire ocean away. He did not know what to say to comfort her, so she said, gently, "It's my fault. I shouldn't make him angry like that. Should know better."

"It's not your fault," he said firmly, "it's his fault because he drinks as much as he does. Don't blame yourself, sweetheart. It's not because of you." Maybe this time he would ask Jack, and he would steal this young girl away on the Pearl, away from the horrors of this town that was so cruel to her. He couldn't, he knew.

"Will you stay?" she asked, and he smiled into her dark curls. Yes, he could do that.

"Jack?"

"Aye?" The man was, at twenty-three, five years his junior, but he knew his way around the ship and how to steer her. He was a good captain, a great pirate, and a very good friend.

"When do we leave port?" he asked, leaning casually against the wall. He already knew the answer.

"In the morning. I thought you knew that. You came all the way back 'ere to ask me that?" Yes, he did know when they were leaving, but it was as good a way as any to broach the subject.

"I don't think I'll be going with you this time, Jack."

Surprise was evident on the other's face. "Why's that?"

"Business," he said, and noticing the sly smile that Jack gave him, he added, "of the non-profit sort." The smile disappeared.

"What's going on, William?"

"You remember Tom, don't you?"

"Aye," Jack said, his brows furrowing. He'd met the man briefly, a year ago, when Bill had returned from a trip to England.

"He's got a daughter. His wife died a year ago. He's been a drunken slob since, and he's taken to... taking his anger out on the young girl. I need t'get her away from 'im, but I can't bring her on the ship, so I have to stay here."

"How long?"

"Month. Maybe more."

"Alright."

William smiled. "You'll be alright without me, won't you, mate?" Jack nodded, so he flashed a quick grin. "Thanks, Cap'n. The lass's waiting for me, so I need t'run. I'll see you when y'get back, keep a space for me."

Jack watched as Will turned quickly and left the cabin.

She smiled shyly, looking over the edge of small dinghy into the water. "You didn't have to stay, you know," she said absently.

"I did. I'm worried about you, Raven."

"Why? I'm fine, you know. I can take care of myself." He smiled sadly, reaching across and brushing his callused fingers over her bruised cheek. She winced, hanging her head. He put an arm carefully around her shoulders.

"It's not so much you as your father," he admitted, and she sighed.

"He hates me," she muttered.

"He doesn't hate you. He's a drunken idiot, and I don't trust him, but he doesn't hate you."

"Why does he hit me, if he doesn't hate me?"

"Because he's a drunken idiot, and he has been since your mother died."

She looked away from the water, turning her head to face him. She shivered, her shoulders heaving as she gave a deep sigh. "I miss her," she whispered, and he squeezed her against him reassuringly.

"I know you do," he said, and then paused. "I was wondering if you'd like to stay with me, for a few days, maybe a couple weeks... give your father a break."

"He's leaving in a few days," she informed him with a slight shrug.

"Then you wouldn't have to be at home by yourself."

"That... might be nice," she admitted, and he smiled down at her.

"I'll ask him tonight, alright?"

"You're the best brother a girl could have, Bootstrap." His smile widened to a grin, and she returned it. "I wish we were really related."

"We're not related, but we're connected. And you know, relation is essentially luck. You can be related to someone you don't like, but connecting with someone, that's special. It requires friendship, and caring... and all those sorts of things," he stumbled as he went on. He was a pirate; emotion was not supposed to be his forte.

"I love you, Boot," she said fondly.

"Likewise," he responded, as was their custom, and she quite suddenly wrapped her arms around him in a hug. He steadied himself with one hand against the mast, as the her unexpected affection had nearly cost him his balance, and held her close with his other arm. Likewise.

Author's note: Aren't they cute? Miriam is fifteen, Bootstrap is twenty-eight. Jack is twenty-three, and stars only briefly. This happened about fourteen years before most of the story, and three years before Jack and Bootstrap set off for the Isla de Muerta. I may have more of these as the story progresses, just snapshots of Miriam and Bootstrap, or even Bootstrap and Jack. We'll see, won't we?

A note on interlude chapters: If this were a movie, this scene would randomly appear between chapters 14 and 15. It is a part of the story, sortof. It could be a dream, for example, or a vision, or something, and it will be brought up later. It isn't a stand-alone thing that doesn't have anything to do with anything else.

Review Responses:

Reese Sparrow: Thank you! I'm very sorry chapter fifteen is taking such a horrifically long time, but for some reason it's just a pain in the ass to write.

ChocolateEclar: Yes, characters often lack depth when they're dead. I think it's cute that she often calls him just "Boot" instead of "Bootstrap". Raven's father will be explored more in-depth later, but for now he won't appear. Maybe Bootstrap is really alive, then we'll be able to see him in POTC2. I must admit, I'm curious.