Author's Note: Aieeeeeee! This is so so so so SO late, and I apologize a thousand times over and a thousand times again. ShallowWaters, your chapters are in their planning stages. Congrats!

Thanks...To all of you. You really encourage me. Thanks a lot!

THE VIOLINIST

Chapter Seven - Baby Face

Baby Fischer had known he wanted to be a pirate the day his father was killed by one.

Now, to most, that may sound horrid and completely insane, not to mention a horrible reason to want to pursue a profession, if you can call pirating a profession. But most did not know the elder Fischer, or how he hated his children. And most did not know Baby Fischer and his childhood.

Baby never got the name of the man who slit his father's throat, but he knew he had been spared, so he was ever thankful to the pirate.

Mariana had more difficulty understanding why any person would ever want to be a pirate. On the whole, she saw them as greedy, vile, and dissolute--a completely different species separated from the rest of society, civilized or not. She tended to group them together, which she was ashamed at herself for, because men like Baby broke that barrier she had imagined up. Still, no matter how wonderful one pirate might be, she could not see why someone would want to pursue such a profession--if you could even call it that.

Such an attitude became evident to Baby when he finally noticed she shot glares of disgust to every man of the ship.

Now Baby was a sensible young man. He did not court whores, he did not drink rum earlier than noon; nor did he think too highly of himself. However, he could not begin to grasp as to why someone would treat his comrades--men he had known his entire life--as though they were no better than sea scurvy.

In the depths of the night as he lay beside her, his arms wrapped possessively about her small waist, he dared ask.

"Mariana?" he whispered.

The Spaniard continued to sleep soundly, her face buried deep into her less-than-comfortable pillow. Baby sighed to himself. Just forget the damned thing, man, his voice of reason ordered. You have a beautiful woman in your arms. For the love of god, don't blow it.

But it was not very often Baby listen to his conscience.

"Mariana?" he tried again, squeezing her hips gently and placing a soft kiss on the nape of her neck.

This time Mariana did stir--ever so softly, her lips parting a bit to breathe threw her mouth. Baby just noticed now that she did that; switched from nose breathing to mouth breathing when she was conscious. It was…sweet. Endearing.

Her eyes fluttered open and she blinked away the veil of sleep to turn to him so that his hips were against hers. Mariana cocked a thick black eyebrow, her lips wearing a frown. Her expression asked him what was the matter.

"I have to ask you something," Baby confessed, taking her hands and kissing them lightly. "And I'm not really sure as to why it bothers me so. But…I just need to ask."

Mariana blinked, and nodded, urging him to ask. He looked…worried almost. He looked his own age, something she had never seen before.

"I've just noticed…on board the ship…you seem to…how shall I put it?" He pondered for a moment, his frown deepening. "You seem to look at the men with…I don't know…loathing."

Mariana's mouth opened a little, but then she averted her eyes from his, ashamed. For he was speaking the truth--she treated none of the men with anything remotely related to respect.

"And, god help me, you probably your reasons," Baby said quickly, as if to apologize. "But…I don't know, love…I've never seen anyone give my mates looks like you do." He tilted her chin upward and pressed his forehead against hers, their hot breath mingling together in midair. "I just want to understand, love," he said softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his pale lips.

And with that, Mariana silently began to cry.

Baby nearly sprung to his feet in alarm as the fat tears rolled down her dirty, tan cheeks. You've blown it, you blithering moron! his conscience screamed. Bloody lost her!

Baby didn't understand this at all. What had he said? What had he done? Oh, god, he'd gone and made her cry. Baby hardly ever made women cry, even when he left them. And when they did, he at least understood why they had cried. But now…he didn't get it. He just couldn't see the action that had started the waterworks.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry," he apologized, nearly sinking to his knees in pleading. "Mariana, love, I'm so sorry--I mean, I didn't mean--Don't cry. Please don't cry." He touched the side of her face and wiped away a tear. Mariana looked up and shook her head, and he groaned. She wasn't going to accept his apology! his conscience screamed. What is WRONG with this woman!

And then, without any sort of warning at all, Mariana's lips crashed into his in a passion-filled kiss.

Of course, he didn't deny her--that would be outrageously stupid of him. But the question still hung over his head like a rain cloud--What the hell had triggered her little water show?

Mariana pulled him closer to her, so that his torso was in between her legs. Her tears still fell freely, but not out of sadness or out of being offended. These were tears of happiness and love. No one had ever tried to understand her before. And now this pirate was trying harder than any other man could to figure out what made her tick.

It was wonderful.

And from the doorway, twin brown eyes which had long lost their luster and life peered at the scene, a cloud of rage overcast them. The face to which the eyes belonged was contorted into an emotion that could not quite be pinpointed. It was like hatred, only less crude. Like outrage, only more raw. And it was like fury, only the burning it caused in his stomach was greater than and fury her had ever experienced before.

Jack Sparrow was by no means a remotely reasonable person. Even he himself would agree with that statement. However, he was certainly not insane. In fact, he held onto it and treasured it like a human child of his own. Jack's sanity was all he had left, and he was holding onto it tightly as a security blanket.

But on the night he saw his former cabin boy kiss a girl in the likeness of the woman who had once stolen his heart, Jack did two things.

Firstly, he finally let his sanity go, and it dashed madly into the night like a dog let off its leash, away from the master who had abused it for years and years.

And on that night, as the darkness consumed his once resonating mind, Jack also finally discovered with a cold chill that he was and would always be alone.

Closing Notes: I know, it's short, but I'm putting up another today, just for you guys!