Chapter Ten: Success of Sorts

Maren didn't answer, instead she closed her eyes and sought

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"I do'n care! Find 'nother bugger to baby-sit yer bitch-witch!" Anamaria shrieked indignantly, "For I'll not go near her, not for all the ink in India!"

"Anamaria," shining the diamond ring on his thumb, Jack held his hand out to admire its sparkle, "I not be havin' this argument 'gain, ain't no voodoo on this ship savvy?" Gibbs hustled by, baring some burden, and Jack added loudly, "That goes for ye too, ye daft sailor. Strip off that bloody garlic for Poseidon's sake, ye reek 'nough as it is."

"But Cap'n," griped Gibbs, tossing his crate alongside others, "It's nothin' on the lass, I like Maren, like her lots, but them ghosts…'tis 'nother matter." The charm was removed remorsefully from around his neck, wafting a more pungent odor when it combined with the sweat from Gibbs' grimy hands, "Me grandmum always swore on garlic, strong smells be wardin' the dead away she said."

"Be wardin' the livin' away too," Jack crossed his arms, set in stone.

"If ye asks me-."

Jack interrupted Anamaria, matter-a-factly, "Which no one did."

"-I say," her glare threatened him as she continued resolutely, "the garlic be the only thing coverin' the smell o' pig. Let him keep it and spare our noses, would ye Jack?" An obvious sniff punctuated Anamaria's statement so Gibbs retaliated by sticking his grey tongue out at her.

"Bah, cut the shit, ye babies," Jack's hands located his flask, sparing no time popping the cap off and guzzling to his liver's content, his Adam's apple bobbing like a fishing lure. "Aaah!" lowering the gin, Jack pointed at the Gibbs' charm, "She's right though," Anamaria huffed pompously and Gibbs snorted insulted, "Wear yer sissy, superstitious, spinster charm and grant our nasal cavities a bit o' relief. Now have off," the flash disappeared in the security of his jacket pocket, "Anamaria needs some sense knock'd into her."

"Ye'll be knockin' 'til kingdom come," retorting, Gibbs dodged the sisterly swat aimed at his head before rushing below to carry the next crate. Thankfully, the aroma eventually traveled with him.

Mindlessly, Jack hummed his favorite song anchoring his scrupulous stare upon Anamaria, who glowered back. "Here be the green, me dove," his shoulders quirked up with his open palms, stuck in a permanent shrug, "That's a very pretty littl' lady-," he paused while Anamaria tsk-ed, "we got stash'd up here and pretty ladies attract a pretty fair amount of attention. Ye know what they say, 'While the cat's away,' so on and so forth and when this feline takes his leave, he be wantin' insurance that his mice be behavin' around said lady. Clearly, there be nothin' to fret 'bout with ye on guard. First, the men be scar'd o' ye," a prideful smile graced Anamaria's face, "Hell, keep beamin' like that and I be scar'd o' ye too. And lastly, I wo'n have to be worrin' 'bout ye takin' any sort o' liberties with her, bein' womens and all." A concise blink signified the arrival of a stimulating thought, "Course, if somethin' like that, ye know certain undeniable urgin' liberties, should occur 'tween the two o' ye, then, as honorable Cap'n, I would have to watch-er, witness…" mumbling, Jack snapped his fingers, "Referee! Aye referee, make sure everthin's evens, aye, kiss for kiss, stroke for stroke and whatnot!" A fanciful glaze set over Jack's eyes and he sighed.

"Lord have mercy!" she whispered, aghast and devilishly amused, "Ye have'n had her yet, have ye Jack? I can tell, ye look half-starv'd to death, ye do!"

Startled, Jack nervously snipped, "Bah! What ye gabbin' 'bouts? Course I had her, dozens o' times, I did," his gloating became increasingly defensive, a fact not lost on Anamaria, "Many, many, many times! Actually, just finish'd 'nother one up a moment ago. Ye deaf? Ye not hear all that bangin' on me door? She beggin' for more, that be what that was."

"Funny," puckering her chin, she nonchalantly attached, "Soundin' to me like she just want'd out." Her calloused finger itched her cheek and she relented, "Suspectin, maybe I was a tad too harsh on her," Jack rubbed his hands together, satisfied, "Any gel clever 'nough to steer clear o' ye can't be all bad, witch o' no."

Jack's victory smile vanished, replaced by an irritated scowl, "Just do what ye told woman."

Anamaria watched Jack mosey to the longboat, his arms twined behind him like an eager sacrifice. She'd known Jack a long time now and all that while understood one thing for certain, Jack was never to be known completely, remaining a mysterious enigma of a pirate to the end of his days. Yet, there was one definite trait that Jack exemplified over and over again, he was a man that wanted things. Not in the sense a fellow might be strolling down the street and fancies "Mmm, like me a pair o' new shoes," no, Jack's wants were of an entirely different meaning all together.

It was obsession and possession in its purest form, reminding Anamaria of childhood stories her bapu would tell her, great titans swallowing their god-children whole to control them forever. That's how Jack wanted things, he stayed unchanged, always just Jack, but whatever he desired became his totally. Jack wanted his Black Pearl, well that was no secret. Jack wanted his hat, that weather-beaten leather mass of wear and tear. Jack wanted his revenge, wanting his pistol to deliver the lethal blow. Jack wanted Bootstrap's son to live happily ever after, now the boy was doing just that. And perhaps now, Jack wanted the medium.

Not entirely in the sexual reference either. There had been only one person prior Jack had wanted and sure as hell, that was definitely not sexual in anyway shape or form. Yet, Jack wanting the last surviving crewmember of the Alpha had almost ruined him. How much damage could a voodoo witch inflict?

Jack and others had climbed down into the longboat and were rowing to shore, disappearing into the fog, as if swallowed whole…Anamaria decided to fetch her gun, for security's sake, before moving the medium to the brig.

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A physical body has boundaries, wrapped and trapped in a tissue of skin, but the soul is less discriminate and unfathomably more infinite. It is nowhere and everywhere at once, is it any wonder that so many souls meld and grow together, with such an immeasurable habitat? Those we love are never gone, apart of them is apart of us, a vital compound in the make of who and why we are. These ties are embedded permanently in the spirit, always connecting the living to the departed. All it takes is one who sees

Maren saw several of these influences enfolded in Anamaia, but one was prominent. So many doubting thoughts cast around the memory of him, mingled with dauntless faith and cherished love, Maren wondered briefly if perhaps she was delving into the wrong person, but no, this was the vicious pirate woman, hiding a plethora of pain and hope inside herself. She opened her bleary eyes, deciding that he would work.

'No wonder she be so cranky,' Maren hastily put her stockings and boots on and was almost finished plating her hair again when Kristy burst in.

"She's coming!" the ghost huffed, "Ye got someone?"

'Aye, a good one too,' frantically, Maren searched around Jack's chests and cabinets until she found a lean crowbar. Testing, she whipped it about, listening to the swoosh it cut in the air. 'Ye got me an escape route?' hiding, the iron piece behind her skirt, Maren hustled to a dining chair and perched, attempting to look mystical.

Kristy stuck her head through the locked door, ignoring the disconcerting chill solid objects gave her, to check on Anamaria's progress, "Bet ye arse," she noted the pistol Anamaria carried, but kept it to herself, it would only make Maren nervous. "Here be the skivvy," her head bobbed inside again, "Two longboats been lowered to the water, one on port, one on starboard. Now God bless'd us, 'cause some bugger's got the coffee out and everyone's havin' themselves a brake by the starboard. Port's boat by itself, ye got that? On me word, head for port and do'n look back o' think twice!"

'Aye aye Kristy,' Maren said with more confidence then her knotted stomach actually felt, 'Now, let's be payin' this Charlie bloke a visit…"

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Anamaria hesitated for a chilling moment before unlocking the captain's quarters, reassuring herself that she wasn't afraid, for Christ's sake, she'd fought an entire crew of the dead without a blink of an eye, she was just wary, very, very wary, that was all. Resolutely she turned the key and stepped inside, eyes swiftly readjusting to the dim. Maren sat quietly, hands hanging limply at her sides and face as blank as a sheet of paper, gazing at the wall, through the wall.

"None o' them tricks," charily, Anamaria walked in and shut the door behind her, "Time to go, get movin' now!" Swiveling like a weathervane, Maren's head turned towards Anamaria, her blank eyes were glassy and the pupils dilated, virtually nonexistent. The effect was blood chillingly frightening.

"His reputation preced'd him. At first, ye have naught to do with him, but the likes of him win everyone over eventually," her voice echoed emotionlessly in the room which seemed eerily larger and emptier to Anamaria.

"Who the fuck ye goin' on 'bouts, eh?" growling, Anamaria shivered angrily, fearing she knew very well who, but praying it was impossible.

"Charles Dumaus," a whimper sounded and Anamaria barely recognized it as her own, "But he insist'd ye call him 'yer Charlie'. Told ye he lov'd ye an hour after meetin' ye and every time after 'till one day ye found yerself believin' him. He be yer first, made luv to ye under the oak tree, then ask'd ye to marry him." Two crystal tears fell from one of Maren's blank eyes, yet a beautiful smile spread across her lips, "Ye said aye! Couldn't believe it, thought he was dreamin', ye so prideful, so strong, weepin' in his arms, his future bride. So beautiful, he sang to ye, his mumma's lullabye, the only other woman he ever lov'd, Du, du emandue…" gradually, the singing was no longer that of Maren, but a brassy tenor, lulling his notes from a vast distance.

Her pistol fell to the ground in an inappropriate clatter, surging forward and falling onto her knees, Anamaria clasped at Maren's olive skirts, ignoring the tears that spilled down her cheeks. "Me Charlie," cracking in a sob, she buried her head in Maren's lap, "How can this be?" Adoringly she gawked at Charlie, speaking through a pretty barmaid, "What happen'd? I was waitin', where were-," she couldn't distinguish the crowbar Maren raised, even when it descended on the back of her head with a skull-thumping thwack. Her body dropped, unresisting to the floor, blown out like a candle's flame.

Blinking away the familiar haze, Maren granted herself a few moments of recuperation and let go of her hold on the crowbar. Mournfully, she assessed the crumpled form of the female pirate, face streaked with tear trails, before decisively and sadly declaring, 'I feel like such a bitch!'

"Me too," Kristy reappeared, poking her wraith foot at Anamaria's listless body, "How bloody miserable, poor thing!" Just then, the poor thing moaned and furrowed her brow, but failed to awaken, "Eek!" Kristy shrieked, "Remorse later, escape now! Remorse later, escape now!"

Not needing to be commanded twice, Maren bolted to the door, Kristy floating ahead of her. Impatiently, she paused, withering her fingers, occasionally cracking a knuckle, while Kristy phased through the door and watched for a clearing. 'Hurry,' Maren pitifully pleaded, 'if she wakes up and I still be here, she'll kill me for sure!'

"Hold it Pet…hold it…" more intimidating seconds passed, "Now! Go, move!"

Flinging the door open, Maren dashed towards the port rail, not even taking the precious time to glance about, if Kristy said it was clear, it was clear. The rope ladder hung ahead of her, a spectacular and desperate destination. She was upon it instantly, temporarily forgetting her loathing of heights, grabbing the top rung with white knuckles and casting her weight over the railing.

Like a kite, the wind caught her skirt while she hung, threatening to blow her away, but her death grip refused to budge and eventually, after a few fumbled attempts, Maren's feet found purchase on the ladder. Not daring to look down, even to estimate her decent, she scrabbled and groped her way to the longboat, occasionally sliding with painful burns to her palms. Her heart hammered and her stomach resided in her throat as every second passed, only assuring her of her inevitable recapture. Sweaty hands caused her to slip and she would have screamed had the boat not abruptly knocked the wind from her. She had only fallen five feet.

Panting and praying her thanks, Maren attacked the ropes that held the longboat to the Black Pearl. "Hurry!" panicked, Kristy bit her wraith wrist to silence her nervous shouts. The knots were stubborn, but then, so was Maren. Clambering with fingers turned wobbly like rubber, she finally loosened the rope and freed the boat.

The oars were in her hands and lapping at ocean water in an instant while her numb arms and entire body thrust into ever stroke. Her breath was forced to slow, in with one row, out with the other and this helped to calm her down, concentrating fully on the physical activity. "Good Pet, ye're doin' great," Kristy sighed, letting relief spill over the both of them, "Hard part be over, soon we be hidden in the fog." The morning was still chilled, turning Maren's anxious sweat clammy and cold. Almost hypnotic, the steady splashing of the oars soothed her tattered nerves, the waves rocking her as a mother rocks her baby, but nothing came close to the serenity that overwhelmed her as the Black Pearl faded from sight, lost in mist. Cautious optimism soared to heavenly heights and Maren and Kristy exchanged happy smiles.

It was over! No more pirates, no more Pearl, and no more Jack Sparrow…the persistent sentiment, she vainly wished had burned away in her anger, flared back tenfold. She permitted herself to confess her darkest secret, now that her heart was safe and far away from Jack forever…she was falling in love with him…there she admitted it! Really, what choice did she have? Played with like a porcelain doll by the world's most manipulative puppeteer or cut her losses and spare herself even more sorrow. Why of course she had to run away! At least she could honestly declare the truth now, she was leaving because she was scared of him, of loving him. If Jack ever discovered her feelings, God alone knew the mischief he would make of them! Insensitive bastard that he was…also attentive, generous and handsome-no! Maren couldn't think that way, someday she'd remember this as merely an infatuation, she'd scar over it soon enough, she hoped. 'Aye right,' Maren mused sarcastically, because there is a certain limit to how much a woman can lie to herself.

A terrible scratching sound halted the boat, surprising both Maren and Kristy. They spun about foolishly realizing they had hit shore. 'Freedom at last!' Maren jumped from boat to land, rocking unsteadily as her legs reacquainted themselves with a fixed surface.

"Let's be locatin' ourselves a fine-lookin' young Brit officer," Kristy cheered and clapped, "Reckon ye'll be some kind o' hero o' somethin' for soundin' the alarm, even if they can't possibly catch the Pearl, faster than a boy's orgasm, she is."

'Supposin' they give me a metal, eh?' attempting to mask her growing melancholy, Maren bit out merrily, 'Bet I'll be havin' the pick o' the gents then. Wouldn't that be somethin'?' They strode confidently down the shore. Muffled and disheartening familiar voices floated on the wind, very close by, startling the pair.

'The other boat!'

"The other boat!" they conversed in alarmed unison.

Speedily, Maren threw herself headlong behind a deformed gray boulder, hunched and waiting nervously. Kristy remained where she was, though she had to fight the instinct to flee from sight. The fog thinned a bit, or her ghostly vision readjusted to the mist, either way she now beheld the first longboat pulled partly on shore and three men, Gibbs among them, sharing a smoke. Two other men were missing, also Jack, this didn't bode well. Jack's favorite hobby was suddenly appearing at the most inconvenient moment.

'Kristy!' Maren called from the rock.

"Ye be all right at the moment, Pet," Kristy hushed back, "They did'n see ye. When I gives ye the go, crawl slow and quiet-like up in the brush, head the other direction."

'Right,' gulping, Maren tried to mask her breathing, now sounding horrifically loud to her straining ears. The sand gave a little under her feet causing her to bob for footing. Her mouth was dry, and her palms were wet, and she vehemently cursed Jack Sparrow wherever the hell he was, in spite of the fact she now loved him.

"All set luv," steadfast, Kristy kept careful watch for any change in the pirates' demeanor, "Get goin'!" Uncomfortably low on her haunches, Maren inched her way stealthily into the foliage and away from the water, her dress hefted up and wrapped around one arm, mindless to her bloomers flashing the world. Often, a snapping twig or crunching gravel would sound under her boots and Maren would freeze, terrified and waiting for the pirates to come and investigate, but only Kristy's reassuring, "Keep at it, ye stupid gel, aint no time to be admirin' the bloomin' view!" would follow. Creeping along, Maren succeeded in concealing herself behind the brush.

'Praise King Jesus,' under Maren's feet was a small dirt road and roads always lead to people, civilization at last! Straightening out, Maren tiptoed quickly down the trail, hearing only Kristy's approach behind her. 'Almost there-."

A deceptively innocent bend on the path brought Maren abruptly upon Cupid Thomas urinating on a tree. At first, he only glanced up at her casually, returning his thoughtful gaze back to the falling stream from his trousers, but as realization dawned, he yanked his head back up and gaped at her, "Maren! What the devil!" he, embarrassed, tucked away his manhood and hurriedly tied his trousers up.

"By the milk from me own mum's tit!" hysterical, Kristy guffawed, "Ye see that littl' thing he stowed away there? How pathetic! Talk 'bout ye bug-fucker!" She demonstrated by producing her pinkie cut off at the last knuckle.

"Hello Cupid," Maren smiled vacantly, waving worried arms about and performing an amazing likeness to Jack, "Figur'd I be takin' a look 'round, ye know, see the sights, eat some local food, talk to the natives and whatnot. Stretch o' me legs type o' deal, savvy? Anyway, nice chattin' with ye, but regrettably, I gots some previous social engagements, can't be chang'd, so sorry, well off I go. Bye!" and sprinting like the Devil himself was after her, Maren ran.

Pounding feet struck the road, her skirts fluttering behind her, as Maren exploded in a tizzy of adrenaline. She'd never been the swiftest, her particular forte being constant endurance rather than bursts of frantic energy, but at this moment, she could overcome a racing horse if need be. Behind her, the crash and stomp of boots revealed that Cupid had decided to give chase after all. "Shoot me load, Maren!" Kristy snarled, flying through brush and trees to keep up, "This goes far beyond the realm o' unlucky and straight into curs'd karma! What be the deal, eh? Ye piss on a monk in a former life!"

'Not helping!' desperately, Maren gulped great breathes of air into her aching lungs. Rowing the longboat had exhausted her arms, they tingled with a numbness that hinted at cramps arriving very soon. Her legs rebuffed the pace she attempted to force upon them and were, consequently, growing lethargic, she was slowing! Cupid's footfalls were steadily gaining, but Maren declined the temptation to check behind her, fearing the mere sight of Thomas upon her would freeze her like a hunted dear.

"House ahead!" pointing, Kristy indicated a large estate emerging from the fog. The windows were still dark and no noise could be heard from any inhabitant, but beggars can't be choosers.

Soaring over the picket fence in a mighty hurtle, a feat Maren would have sworn she was not capable of executing the day before, now made exceedingly easy in her panicked state, she skidded to a halt at the front door, double in the French style. "Hello!" she bombarded the doors with her fists, "Is anyone one there! For mercy's sake help-."

"Maren, look OUT!" Kristy screeched as Cupid rounded the fence and descended upon Maren. Lunging, he secured a fistful of the back of her skirt with one hand, but Maren was already fleeing and the sharp tug to her dress pulled him forward, falling flat on the ground. The rip was horrendously awful to Maren's ears as a large piece of her only satin dress tore away, however, mourning the garment would have to be postponed for a more convenient occasion.

Cupid's slip had bought Maren a few more precious seconds, but her time was running out and quickly. She came upon deserted streets and her feelings conflicted, joy that she had reached the town of Port Royale or misery that the morning was still too early for the citizens to wake, 'Kristy, I need an English soldier now!' She didn't dare take one valuable moment knocking on any doors for Cupid was increasing his speed and edging closer. Her panting breath didn't even allow enough air to shout for help. Things were becoming dire.

"On me way," the spirit darted through the nearest house and continued her hastening progress. Scenes of bedrooms, kitchens, and living rooms flashed before her eyes as she sprinted parallel with Maren on the street, all of them bleakly quiet with sleep or dismally empty. Just when all hope seemed defeated, Kristy came upon a shop…

Maren would have screamed in shock when Kristy burst out from a wall right in front of her face, but her lungs were too breathless to even manage a small squeak. "Found someone, in there!" her arm indicated the building she had just emerged from and without hesitation, Maren flew to the rickety door.

'An officer?' she asked hopefully, knocking the door open with a surprising clatter.

"Even better!" they bolted in together.

Her eyes adjusted to the dark of a workman's room, drafty yet warm. Anvils, tools, and a donkey lied about with a roaring fire stoking higher in the corner. 'Kristy,' Maren addressed doubtfully and deadened, 'This be a smithery.'

"Aye, but wait 'til ye see the blacksmith!"