Speaking of the Past (REPOST)
Rating: PG-13 for a bit o' language
Genre: Drama & Romance
Pairing: Jack and Anamaria all the way
Summary: Anamaria and Jack have a happy life together but Anamaria begins to have dreams about a little boy she used to know a ways back before she 'came part of the Pearl's crew.
A/N: I'm gonna' keep on writing this story. So on with the damned story. Oh, wait! Thanks to Jack-on-the-Sparrow, Kungfuchick, LaVieSansAmour and Elraralia for replying early on.
"Jack!" Anamaria yelled to him as he stood up and stormed out of the cabin slamming the door behind him. She cried so much that night, seeing that Jack didn't come back to her. Red eyes, wet face.
Jack stood at the helm of the ship, watching the sea, trying to control his thoughts. There absolutely, positively had to be a reason that Anamaria didn't tell him. So what exactly was that reason? Wait! This child couldn't be his; they only just started sleeping together in the last year. So who the bloody hell was the father of this child?
He stayed out there the entire night. Never actually getting the sleep Anamaria had tried to make him get. He was too pissed off. Some bloody relationship they had. He couldn't even stand to think about her now. Had the sickening urge to slap her at the moment, but unfortunately he refused to hit a woman.
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Anamaria got up at the sound of the wake up call. She sighed to see that Jack hadn't been back after what happened last night. Hadn't even sat at the table. Couldn't blame him though, they were practically married and she hadn't told him something as important as having a son. He'd come around, soon. Eventually. Eventually everything would be okay. All she could do now was hope for the best.
She hurriedly pulled on her boots and her worn shirt. She rushed down to perform her daily tasks. Not another reason to make Jack worse needed.
"Anamaria!" His anger was obvious in his tone.
"Aye cap'n," Anamaria said, not quite bringing her eyes to meet his.
"Ye can go back to yer cabin. I don't feel much like lookin' at ye." She quickly walked below to her cabin. Almost ran. Humiliated by him making her go to her cabin. And not the one that she and Jack shared but the one she had earned as being First Mate and as being the only woman on the ship. She sat on the much uncomfortable bed, drawing her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them in a secure hug.
The second time in one week she cried her eyes out.
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It was probably midnight or close to it when Anamaria woke from crying herself to sleep. She slowly and quietly made her way to the main deck. She stood there silently without moving a muscle. Her eyes were still bloodshot red and she seemed depressed. Only her hair moved through the wind. Sad sight it was, to see her up there like that.
"Anamaria," Jack said coming from his cabin, shirtless, pants on.
She fumbled with her words. "I…I'm sorry Cap'n Sparrow. I'll be headin' back to me cabin now," the female pirate said, making her way back down to her small room before Jack stopped her.
"No need for that luv, I actually want t' talk t' ye," the captain said pulling her, by the arm, back up to the deck. "I want ye t' tell me 'bout this son o' yers."
"Have I ever told ye' where I came from?"
"I reckon that I assumed ye were from Cuba. Seein' as that's where I met ye at."
"I used to be a slave in Georgia. My father was a pure negro and my mother a mulatto. My mother was still pregnant wit' me, when he ran away. He was goin' to come back after he had made it to the north. But he was found by those hound dogs. The men beat him near to death. They came back and hung him. Say it took 'em damn near 5 minutes before he finally gave up," she looked back towards Jack who was contently listening to her story and sighed.
"I worked in the Big House for 10 years. The first five I don' quite remember what I did, though. One day, almost a month after my birthday in May, there was a banquet for somethin' or other an' I was in the house cleanin' up and such, didn' realize though that Master Hunter was in the house."
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"Well look at you Anamaria. You really are quite lovely for a negress. A beautiful bosom, long dark hair, gorgeous brown eyes, smooth brown skin. You really are a sight to see," Hunter announced circling her. "I'm gonna' have some fun wit' you missy." He forced her towards the room quarters, particularly his own. He forced her on the bed once they had reached it. Roughly taking her dress off, he forced his lips onto hers. She screamed and tried to push him away earning a forceful slap from her master. "Don't fight it missy. You're goin' t' like this," he said in a strong southern accent.
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"I'm pretty sure ye can figure out what happened after that. Hunter kept lookin at me funny every day after he raped me. Had sort of a stupid smirk on his face all the time. Anyways though, nine months later I had a little baby boy, named 'im Marcel. A few months past and I was disappointed to find out that he couldn't past for white. He had to live with one of th' old kitchen slaves while I worked around the house."
"One day Hunter gave me one o' those funny looks again an' I snapped. Called 'im a dirty bastard an' a few more words. He snatched me up an' chained me t' a tree. Whipped me wit' 18 strokes. I tried not t' scream out in pain, I just hissed 'n' cried silently until the last few. Th' last few were so painful that I started screaming at th' top o' me lungs. Back was bloody as 'ell afterwards. Never once 'ad t' speak t' the man afterwards," Anamaria took a deep breath still avoiding Jack's glance by looking at the ocean, before continuing with the story of her past.
"Bout a year an' a half after that, me an' me best friend Shay decided to run fer it. I couldn't take Marcel wit' me. He was too young and he would cry when we would need t' be quiet, so I left 'im in the care of one of the other slaves. I swore I would come back fer 'im. Too 'fraid though. I couldn't go back to get him.
"We ran an' ran for days. Neither of us had much a sense though an' wanted t' make it in th' Caribbean. We 'ad heard so many stories about th' Caribbean from th' white girls an' we wanted t' see I' fer ourselves. So we made it t' Cape Canaveral an' stowed away on a ship down here to the Caribbean. I never saw Shay again after we got to Jamaica. She met a guy an' left me. That whore," she muttered the last part under her breath before continuing. "I commandeered a ship from a coupla' boys from the island and made me way to Cuba. I made a livin' there fishin' an' such on th' boat fer 5 months. Then I met ye an'… well ye know wha' 'appened from then."
"Anamaria," Jack said pulling her shirt over her head and throwing it to the deck floor. He looked at the scars with a sorrow in his eyes.
He took his fingers and traced them across all of the long, thin lines. All 18 of them.
A/N: Yes another repost! Review please! (to those who haven't)