No matter how Catherine wished it, there was no avoiding Will Turner. After skipping dinner the night before, she woke up famished, figuring the growling in her stomach was loud enough for everyone to hear.
The waters were choppy. It took a few moments for the woman to gain her sea legs and keep herself from tumbling about.
Slipping on the most comfortable gown she owned, Catherine went about sitting on the side of her bunk braiding her hair. She was in no mood to worry about appearances. However, most of all, she was in no mood to see Will Turner. He'd opened up old wounds that had never rightly healed. Doubts that she'd voiced only to herself on dark, lonely nights and for that, she was hurt and angry with the man.
The knock upon her cabin door brought the young woman away from dark musings. "Miss Cathie, Stout sent me with yer mornin' meal."
Sighing heavily, Catherine placed her silver handled brush on the bedding beside her then went to let the man inside.
"I would have gone and..."
Ducking his head as he stepped inside, Red Roof then shook it quite animatedly in objection. "No, Stout said to deliver this to ye once I heard ye stirrin' about. Said ye were a fine lady and no matter what Cap'n Will might 'ave told ye...."
Stopping mid ramble, Red Roof quickly placed the tray upon the large, highly polished table in the center of the cabin. He dared not look at the woman, feeling quite certain the fire that would flash in her eyes, the tall pirate rushed to the door.
"If ye need anythin', Miss Cathie, I'll fetch it for ye right away," he insisted, then turned around to see the woman. "There's a storm brewin' on the 'orizon, ye should stay safe down 'ere till it passes," the redhead added, noticing how she grunted in derision, her usual smile not evident.
"You don't have to worry about me," Catherine spoke up, taking a seat at the table. "Tell Stout, thank you and...you as well."
"Any day, Miss, any day for ye," Red Roof grinned, giving her an exaggerated bow then backing out of the cabin, heading back to the galley.
Sitting alone, Catherine found that she'd cleared her plate rather quickly and was now sitting at the table, watching the plate and empty glass slide along the gleaming wood with the rise and fall of the ship. She really didn't have the energy to see Will Turner but in the same breath, she didn't want him thinking that Catherine Kent-Hyde was a weakling. All her life she'd fought that moniker in even the slightest ways and now was no different, but the damnable thing was, much of what Turner had said was true, she knew it. She just didn't want to admit it.
The knock upon the door startled her out of the hypnotic dance of plate, glass, and candles on the table before her, but it was the door coming ajar that really made her literally stand up and take notice.
"Miss Kent, I was sent with more wine," Ark's gravely voice informed, shoving his way inside.
Catherine could feel his cold gaze upon her as the dark-haired man, with a scar running from temple to chin along the left side of his face came into the cabin, making his way to the table.
"From the Master's 'private' stock," he emphasized, as she looked at him dumbly, nodding her head. The he uncorked the red wine and reached across the table to snatch, then refill her glass. "It's some of the finest...from Spain. Your husband didn't let a living soul near this wine...but now, so sad...his wife should enjoy the pleasure then, so says the Captain," Ark continued, handing the woman the glass, turning to leave.
"Thank you," Catherine softly mouthed, feeling on edge and not relaxing till the door shut behind the muscular man.
Glass in hand, she raced across the cabin and quickly bolted the lock, cursing softly to herself for not doing such after Red Roof left.
With a deep breath, the young woman leaned heavily against the door and without the slightest of thought, downed the sweet wine in one gulp.
~~*~~
By noon, the blue waters had turned deadly. The waves were ever increasing and the heavens opened up to torrential rains along with thunder that seemed to quake right down to your soul, not to mention the lightning that hit the now brackish water in an eerie, deadly dance.
It was all Will and his crew could do to keep the ship in one piece, but they managed-just barely.
For a while there, soaked to the skin and chilled to the bone, William Turner had his doubts if they'd make it to morning, much less on their way to Santa Marta for emergency repairs.
~~*~~
Catherine felt as if the world was upside down...sideways...wrong-side up...and everything imaginable all at once. It had hit late in the night as the storm raged and there seemed to be no end to the feeling coiling about her stomach. As morning hit, the feeling didn't subside and only seemed to grow worse.
Her energy gone, it was all she could do to make it up on deck, hoping the morbid rocking of the ship was now long gone and her stomach would stop curling, and her head to stop pounding. Just a lung full of fresh air was all she wanted.
"Miss Kent...are you feeling well?" Stout asked, his massive frame blocking the sun from the woman as she stood at the railing looking out upon the water.
She nodded her head slowly, very slowly and closed her eyes. "Just seasick," she hoarsely whispered.
Stout chuckled then went to slap her on the back but quickly caught himself, knowing that was quite the ungentlemanly thing to do. "Aye, I know just the thing to perk you right up, missy."
But before the older man could say another word, Catherine was clutching the wooden railing along the side of the ship, and while hanging over, her stomach lost its contents.
"Ooh, poor lassie," Stout groaned.
This torture kept up for what Catherine thought was hours, but in reality it was just a few minutes. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve while sinking bonelessly to the deck of the ship, leaning heavily against the gunwall. Stout was there moments later with a ladle of cool water, encouraging her to drink up which she reluctantly did.
But seconds later, her stomach was revolting again as she quickly got to her feet to hang over the side of the ship once more.
By the time the last three waves of nausea had hit, Catherine was weak as a kitten and cool and clammy to the touch. Just when she thought it could get no worse, it did.
A strong arm wrapped about the small of her back, keeping her upon her feet while the other kept her damp hair from her face as she puked her guts out and groaned in agony once again.
"Shhh...you'll be fine," a soothing voice encouraged, his grasp upon her steady.
Taking a damp rag to her face after she was done, he helped the young woman slip from his hold and down to the deck with a heavy sigh. "No...no I won't...I think I'm going to die," she said in a strained voice, trying to make jest of the situation, but honestly wasn't sure if her words weren't truth.
"Nobody's ever died of seasickness...unless you ask Jack...Captain Jack that is. I'm positive he'd know of somebody," he tried to tease as he continued to wipe down her face with the soothing rag. Right then, Catherine realized the voice belonged to Will Turner.
The same Will Turner, who just the day before had caused so much pain, was now sitting there tenderly caring for her well being. At the moment, Catherine was too lethargic and too wracked with pain to conjure up any more anger towards the man. Instead, she slipped down, her head resting heavily upon his thigh while he tried to comfort her.
"Never thought you'd be the one to get a bad case of seasickness," he commented, running his hand through her sweat soaked hair in a soothing manner.
Shaking her head slowly in the negative, the blonde-haired woman winced. "Me either, its never happened before...and I've been caught in worse storms than..." With that, the panic returned to her in droves before Will quickly pulled an empty, wooden bucket up before her, but only the onset of dry heaves wracked her body.
~~*~~
Will had not lived his entire life on the open seas, but he'd had his fair share of time on board a ship after his adventures with Jack Sparrow and finding out about his true pirating heritage. He too knew the effects of one who was seasick, but by early the following morning after spending all night tending to the stricken woman, he was rather sure this wasn't the case.
Concern washed through him when after midnight she began to spit-up blood, her throat and stomach surely raw from the continual abuse. Or so he hoped-that was bad enough, he didn't wish to think of what else might be the cause.
At the moment she seemed to have quieted down. He was unsure if the laudanum Stout had insisted they use to calm her would stop the problem, but he feared it would only lead to worse till the reaction to empty her stomach had finally ceased. Still, something deep inside him had told him that wasn't the correct thing to do, so he'd stayed there, mopping her brow, and talking softly to her, telling her all about his life and the events leading up to meeting Jack Sparrow...he even told her about his Elizabeth. Something he'd never done since the day she'd passed away. Granted, Catherine was not coherent enough to understand, but the gentle tone of his voice was all she needed and in some way, maybe Will Turner figured he needed to speak of ghosts from the past as well.
" 'Ow's she doin' Cap'n Will?" Red Roof asked in a hushed tone, his hands wringing nervously before him.
"I think the worst has passed," he replied, wiping a stray strand of hair from her forehead. "It wasn't a case of seasickness, Red..."
"Stout said as much," he uttered in shock, watching as Will stood up from his crouched position by the bunk and walked over to the door to look about for unwanted visitors. Closing it slowly before walking towards the large desk situated in front of the bank of golden colored glass panes at the aft of the ship.
From the edge of the desk, Will picked up the bottle of wine that was now empty. Its remaining contents had spilled upon the dining table and floor during the worst of the storm for he'd found the sheet Catherine had used to soak up the blood colored wine.
Eyeing it curiously, he sat it back upon the edge of the desk. He had seen the valuable wine collection hidden below deck but had given strict orders to keep hands off for he assumed it was Catherine's late husband's private stock. Will didn't feel the right to help himself or let his crew do the same and truth be told, he figured Catherine didn't know about it, or if she did, had no idea of what was really before her.
Maybe he was wrong on that account. But then again, maybe not.
"You brought Catherine's food to her yesterday, did you not?"
"Aye," Red Roof agreed.
"Was she sick then?" He asked, stepping around the desk and sinking heavily into the large leather chair behind it.
Red Roof scratched his head, making his nest of flaming red hair stand every which way. "No sir...I'd say she was more angry and..."
"...And what?" Will quizzed with concern.
" 'Urt sir, she looked as if someone 'ad ripped 'er 'eart from 'er chest," the redhead thought. "She was mad at ye Cap'n Will..."
Will's dark brow arched with alarm but he already knew the reasoning behind the woman's anger and hurt. It was him.
"Forgive me for sayin' so sir, but ye shouldn't 'ave said what ye did 'bout Miss Cathie's 'usband...may his poor soul rest in peace," Red Roof quickly added, bowing his head in respect before looking sheepishly back to the dark-haired man sitting at the desk.
"She had to know the truth...if she didn't already. Mad Charles was a swindler of the worst kind. He didn't care who he hurt. And trust me, he hurt a lot of people...including you...and me," he reminded, sinking back into the chair, his head resting heavily against the cool leather back.
Red Roof shook his head most vehemently in rejection. "Miss Cathie didn't know what that bastard was doin', she couldn't 'ave, she's not that kind o'woman. And she most assuredly didn't know of 'is..."
Will quickly raised his hand to stop the other man as Catherine began to stir and mumble softly.
Relatively assured that the woman was merely dreaming and still asleep, Will sighed deeply and closed his eyes. "Ye didn't 'ave to tell 'er so...gruffly either," Red Roof uncharacteristically reprimanded, earning him a surprised look in return. "We all know yer hurtin' but it's past time ye start livin' again and...Cap'n Will, there's no need makin' that woman over there feel as poorly about 'er past, as you do yers."
Sitting forward, Will couldn't look the other man in the eyes for he knew what was spoken was truth. But something would not let him yet admit it wholey. "Are you done?"
"Aye, I've said me peace," the lanky man agreed.
"Fine, then why don't you find out when we'll pull into Santa Marta," the dark-haired man suggested rather curtly.
"Aye, I'll do that..." Red Roof acknowledged, turning to leave after taking one last look at the woman tangled amidst the sheets of the bunk. "No, I'm not finished," he suddenly blurted, stopping at the doorway.
Will furrowed his brows and waited. "Me, Stout, Bevins, and some o' the others feel that yer lookin' right over somethin' special that's just before yer eyes 'cause ye still feel Miss Elizabeth's passin' was in some way yer fault. It wasn't, and if ye don't open yer eyes and yer heart, you'll possibly miss out on a second chance at life while lettin' yer soul go black. Miss Elizabeth would be most displeased and angry at ye to see ye still in such a state."
With those words, Red Roof left Will sitting there in shocked disbelief, for Red Roof was the last man he ever expected to reprimand him in any way. It wasn't till Catherine mumbled softly once more, that his mind calmed and he thought again to his guess as to what had really made the woman so ill.
~~*~~
The waters were choppy. It took a few moments for the woman to gain her sea legs and keep herself from tumbling about.
Slipping on the most comfortable gown she owned, Catherine went about sitting on the side of her bunk braiding her hair. She was in no mood to worry about appearances. However, most of all, she was in no mood to see Will Turner. He'd opened up old wounds that had never rightly healed. Doubts that she'd voiced only to herself on dark, lonely nights and for that, she was hurt and angry with the man.
The knock upon her cabin door brought the young woman away from dark musings. "Miss Cathie, Stout sent me with yer mornin' meal."
Sighing heavily, Catherine placed her silver handled brush on the bedding beside her then went to let the man inside.
"I would have gone and..."
Ducking his head as he stepped inside, Red Roof then shook it quite animatedly in objection. "No, Stout said to deliver this to ye once I heard ye stirrin' about. Said ye were a fine lady and no matter what Cap'n Will might 'ave told ye...."
Stopping mid ramble, Red Roof quickly placed the tray upon the large, highly polished table in the center of the cabin. He dared not look at the woman, feeling quite certain the fire that would flash in her eyes, the tall pirate rushed to the door.
"If ye need anythin', Miss Cathie, I'll fetch it for ye right away," he insisted, then turned around to see the woman. "There's a storm brewin' on the 'orizon, ye should stay safe down 'ere till it passes," the redhead added, noticing how she grunted in derision, her usual smile not evident.
"You don't have to worry about me," Catherine spoke up, taking a seat at the table. "Tell Stout, thank you and...you as well."
"Any day, Miss, any day for ye," Red Roof grinned, giving her an exaggerated bow then backing out of the cabin, heading back to the galley.
Sitting alone, Catherine found that she'd cleared her plate rather quickly and was now sitting at the table, watching the plate and empty glass slide along the gleaming wood with the rise and fall of the ship. She really didn't have the energy to see Will Turner but in the same breath, she didn't want him thinking that Catherine Kent-Hyde was a weakling. All her life she'd fought that moniker in even the slightest ways and now was no different, but the damnable thing was, much of what Turner had said was true, she knew it. She just didn't want to admit it.
The knock upon the door startled her out of the hypnotic dance of plate, glass, and candles on the table before her, but it was the door coming ajar that really made her literally stand up and take notice.
"Miss Kent, I was sent with more wine," Ark's gravely voice informed, shoving his way inside.
Catherine could feel his cold gaze upon her as the dark-haired man, with a scar running from temple to chin along the left side of his face came into the cabin, making his way to the table.
"From the Master's 'private' stock," he emphasized, as she looked at him dumbly, nodding her head. The he uncorked the red wine and reached across the table to snatch, then refill her glass. "It's some of the finest...from Spain. Your husband didn't let a living soul near this wine...but now, so sad...his wife should enjoy the pleasure then, so says the Captain," Ark continued, handing the woman the glass, turning to leave.
"Thank you," Catherine softly mouthed, feeling on edge and not relaxing till the door shut behind the muscular man.
Glass in hand, she raced across the cabin and quickly bolted the lock, cursing softly to herself for not doing such after Red Roof left.
With a deep breath, the young woman leaned heavily against the door and without the slightest of thought, downed the sweet wine in one gulp.
~~*~~
By noon, the blue waters had turned deadly. The waves were ever increasing and the heavens opened up to torrential rains along with thunder that seemed to quake right down to your soul, not to mention the lightning that hit the now brackish water in an eerie, deadly dance.
It was all Will and his crew could do to keep the ship in one piece, but they managed-just barely.
For a while there, soaked to the skin and chilled to the bone, William Turner had his doubts if they'd make it to morning, much less on their way to Santa Marta for emergency repairs.
~~*~~
Catherine felt as if the world was upside down...sideways...wrong-side up...and everything imaginable all at once. It had hit late in the night as the storm raged and there seemed to be no end to the feeling coiling about her stomach. As morning hit, the feeling didn't subside and only seemed to grow worse.
Her energy gone, it was all she could do to make it up on deck, hoping the morbid rocking of the ship was now long gone and her stomach would stop curling, and her head to stop pounding. Just a lung full of fresh air was all she wanted.
"Miss Kent...are you feeling well?" Stout asked, his massive frame blocking the sun from the woman as she stood at the railing looking out upon the water.
She nodded her head slowly, very slowly and closed her eyes. "Just seasick," she hoarsely whispered.
Stout chuckled then went to slap her on the back but quickly caught himself, knowing that was quite the ungentlemanly thing to do. "Aye, I know just the thing to perk you right up, missy."
But before the older man could say another word, Catherine was clutching the wooden railing along the side of the ship, and while hanging over, her stomach lost its contents.
"Ooh, poor lassie," Stout groaned.
This torture kept up for what Catherine thought was hours, but in reality it was just a few minutes. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve while sinking bonelessly to the deck of the ship, leaning heavily against the gunwall. Stout was there moments later with a ladle of cool water, encouraging her to drink up which she reluctantly did.
But seconds later, her stomach was revolting again as she quickly got to her feet to hang over the side of the ship once more.
By the time the last three waves of nausea had hit, Catherine was weak as a kitten and cool and clammy to the touch. Just when she thought it could get no worse, it did.
A strong arm wrapped about the small of her back, keeping her upon her feet while the other kept her damp hair from her face as she puked her guts out and groaned in agony once again.
"Shhh...you'll be fine," a soothing voice encouraged, his grasp upon her steady.
Taking a damp rag to her face after she was done, he helped the young woman slip from his hold and down to the deck with a heavy sigh. "No...no I won't...I think I'm going to die," she said in a strained voice, trying to make jest of the situation, but honestly wasn't sure if her words weren't truth.
"Nobody's ever died of seasickness...unless you ask Jack...Captain Jack that is. I'm positive he'd know of somebody," he tried to tease as he continued to wipe down her face with the soothing rag. Right then, Catherine realized the voice belonged to Will Turner.
The same Will Turner, who just the day before had caused so much pain, was now sitting there tenderly caring for her well being. At the moment, Catherine was too lethargic and too wracked with pain to conjure up any more anger towards the man. Instead, she slipped down, her head resting heavily upon his thigh while he tried to comfort her.
"Never thought you'd be the one to get a bad case of seasickness," he commented, running his hand through her sweat soaked hair in a soothing manner.
Shaking her head slowly in the negative, the blonde-haired woman winced. "Me either, its never happened before...and I've been caught in worse storms than..." With that, the panic returned to her in droves before Will quickly pulled an empty, wooden bucket up before her, but only the onset of dry heaves wracked her body.
~~*~~
Will had not lived his entire life on the open seas, but he'd had his fair share of time on board a ship after his adventures with Jack Sparrow and finding out about his true pirating heritage. He too knew the effects of one who was seasick, but by early the following morning after spending all night tending to the stricken woman, he was rather sure this wasn't the case.
Concern washed through him when after midnight she began to spit-up blood, her throat and stomach surely raw from the continual abuse. Or so he hoped-that was bad enough, he didn't wish to think of what else might be the cause.
At the moment she seemed to have quieted down. He was unsure if the laudanum Stout had insisted they use to calm her would stop the problem, but he feared it would only lead to worse till the reaction to empty her stomach had finally ceased. Still, something deep inside him had told him that wasn't the correct thing to do, so he'd stayed there, mopping her brow, and talking softly to her, telling her all about his life and the events leading up to meeting Jack Sparrow...he even told her about his Elizabeth. Something he'd never done since the day she'd passed away. Granted, Catherine was not coherent enough to understand, but the gentle tone of his voice was all she needed and in some way, maybe Will Turner figured he needed to speak of ghosts from the past as well.
" 'Ow's she doin' Cap'n Will?" Red Roof asked in a hushed tone, his hands wringing nervously before him.
"I think the worst has passed," he replied, wiping a stray strand of hair from her forehead. "It wasn't a case of seasickness, Red..."
"Stout said as much," he uttered in shock, watching as Will stood up from his crouched position by the bunk and walked over to the door to look about for unwanted visitors. Closing it slowly before walking towards the large desk situated in front of the bank of golden colored glass panes at the aft of the ship.
From the edge of the desk, Will picked up the bottle of wine that was now empty. Its remaining contents had spilled upon the dining table and floor during the worst of the storm for he'd found the sheet Catherine had used to soak up the blood colored wine.
Eyeing it curiously, he sat it back upon the edge of the desk. He had seen the valuable wine collection hidden below deck but had given strict orders to keep hands off for he assumed it was Catherine's late husband's private stock. Will didn't feel the right to help himself or let his crew do the same and truth be told, he figured Catherine didn't know about it, or if she did, had no idea of what was really before her.
Maybe he was wrong on that account. But then again, maybe not.
"You brought Catherine's food to her yesterday, did you not?"
"Aye," Red Roof agreed.
"Was she sick then?" He asked, stepping around the desk and sinking heavily into the large leather chair behind it.
Red Roof scratched his head, making his nest of flaming red hair stand every which way. "No sir...I'd say she was more angry and..."
"...And what?" Will quizzed with concern.
" 'Urt sir, she looked as if someone 'ad ripped 'er 'eart from 'er chest," the redhead thought. "She was mad at ye Cap'n Will..."
Will's dark brow arched with alarm but he already knew the reasoning behind the woman's anger and hurt. It was him.
"Forgive me for sayin' so sir, but ye shouldn't 'ave said what ye did 'bout Miss Cathie's 'usband...may his poor soul rest in peace," Red Roof quickly added, bowing his head in respect before looking sheepishly back to the dark-haired man sitting at the desk.
"She had to know the truth...if she didn't already. Mad Charles was a swindler of the worst kind. He didn't care who he hurt. And trust me, he hurt a lot of people...including you...and me," he reminded, sinking back into the chair, his head resting heavily against the cool leather back.
Red Roof shook his head most vehemently in rejection. "Miss Cathie didn't know what that bastard was doin', she couldn't 'ave, she's not that kind o'woman. And she most assuredly didn't know of 'is..."
Will quickly raised his hand to stop the other man as Catherine began to stir and mumble softly.
Relatively assured that the woman was merely dreaming and still asleep, Will sighed deeply and closed his eyes. "Ye didn't 'ave to tell 'er so...gruffly either," Red Roof uncharacteristically reprimanded, earning him a surprised look in return. "We all know yer hurtin' but it's past time ye start livin' again and...Cap'n Will, there's no need makin' that woman over there feel as poorly about 'er past, as you do yers."
Sitting forward, Will couldn't look the other man in the eyes for he knew what was spoken was truth. But something would not let him yet admit it wholey. "Are you done?"
"Aye, I've said me peace," the lanky man agreed.
"Fine, then why don't you find out when we'll pull into Santa Marta," the dark-haired man suggested rather curtly.
"Aye, I'll do that..." Red Roof acknowledged, turning to leave after taking one last look at the woman tangled amidst the sheets of the bunk. "No, I'm not finished," he suddenly blurted, stopping at the doorway.
Will furrowed his brows and waited. "Me, Stout, Bevins, and some o' the others feel that yer lookin' right over somethin' special that's just before yer eyes 'cause ye still feel Miss Elizabeth's passin' was in some way yer fault. It wasn't, and if ye don't open yer eyes and yer heart, you'll possibly miss out on a second chance at life while lettin' yer soul go black. Miss Elizabeth would be most displeased and angry at ye to see ye still in such a state."
With those words, Red Roof left Will sitting there in shocked disbelief, for Red Roof was the last man he ever expected to reprimand him in any way. It wasn't till Catherine mumbled softly once more, that his mind calmed and he thought again to his guess as to what had really made the woman so ill.
~~*~~