Chapter 2
Ring around the Rosy Pocket full of posies Ashes to ashes We all fall down
Sleep. Something that hadn't been present in my life for a few months. The second after sitting down in the plush seat in the train car, I nodded off. I awoke to screaming brakes, feeling myself being thrown against the seat in front of me as the train attempted to stop. Pain wracked though my already bruised face. Shakily standing up as the train swayed, I looked around the empty car. What is going on? I thought. Forcing open one of the windows, I looked out the window, the track curving around a hill, then straightening. I saw a bridge in the distance, a bridge that only extended a quarter of the way across a ravine.
"Oh G-d," I breathed, "no, not now." Grabbing my things, I ran towards the exit at the front of the car. The door was locked. Swearing, I stepped back, and savagely kicked at the door, trying to bang it open. It didn't budge. I flew to the back, where the door mercifully opened. I jumped off the train onto the gravel track, running back in the direction we had come. I heard a crash as the bridge collapsed beneath the train, which toppled over. Seconds later, a giant explosion went off, smoke and flames pluming up as the other cars exploded. Pieces of metal ricocheted through the air. I took a chance and looked back. Tripping, I reeled forward, felt something hit the back of my head, and the ground opened up like a grave before....
Gravedigger When you dig my grave Could you make it shallow So that I can feel the rain Oh Gravedigger
Liquor. Some kind of liquor. And a cold cloth.
"Mom?" I croaked a whisper, scarcely able to believe that she would be doing this. And yet she was the first person I thought of.
"Hush, you're all right. Your mother isn't here," came a young, female voice, very English.
"Where am I?" I asked with a great deal of effort.
"Port Royal, at the house of the Governor." My brow furrowed as I tried to make sense of her words. Port Royal? A governor's house?
"Is she awake?" came another, male English voice, from a distance.
"Yes, she has regained her senses. Get my father and Doctor Reginald." I struggled to open my eyes, and the blurry figure of a man in a blue coat of some sort was going through a door. I squeezed my eyes shut, my head splintering in pain. Risking opening them again, my eyes fluttered open, and things were clearer. The room was gigantic, as was the comfortable bed, at least a queen-size. It was a four-poster bed, with a drape-like covering. The room was very 18th century in design. As the woman bent over me, my suspicions were confirmed. She wore an upper class gown, complete with corset, and her hair was done up prettily. She was very young, her hair caramel colored, the dress an off-white with a tiny flower pattern.
A smile greeted my stare.
"Good morning," she said. "How are you feeling?"
Very forward, isn't she?
"Everything hurts, but especially my head," I croaked out. The metallic taste of blood went down as I swallowed. I didn't feel much like talking. There were two paintings of a nobleman and woman, a fireplace, a bureau, a closet, and a chair and table. Heavy drapes hung from the windows to the left, and a screen was set up to the right of the bed. A side-table sat next to the bed, with an elegant lamp and a glass of water. The other table was being used for a pitcher of water, while a basin of water and medicines sat on the bureau's top. Several rolls of bandages were visible. My eyes slid down to what I could see of my body, which only consisted of my arms at this point, and I inwardly sighed as I saw the bandages on my hands and wrists.
"How many bandages do I have on, right now?" I asked.
"Too many, for a young woman your age," said a strict voice that was at the same time gentle. Three men came into the room, the one who had spoken in the lead. He carried a doctor's bag, and wore a gentleman's black suit and breeches that were definitely 18th century. He wore spectacles and a white wig, and of course a tri-cornered hat. I was horrified to be so vulnerable and have three men in the same room with me, and I gulped painfully, watching as the man took the place of the young woman.
"I am Dr. Reginald," said the man. "And what is your name?"
"It used to be Moira Fitzgerald Amherst, but I had it legally changed to Fiona Siohban Fitzgerald." He smiled, trying to appear kind. Why I told him I had had my name changed I didn't know. The two other men in the room were distinguishable to me now – one was an officer in a blue uniform with white cuffs and collar, with a few gold trimmings. He wore a British officer's white wig, and a tri-cornered hat. The other man was significantly older, with a gray wig that one would have seen in the time of Louis XIV. He wore a nobleman's suit, a silvery waistcoat under a deep green coat with breeches of the same green. Both had stockings and the buckled shoes.
"Well, you seem to be doing better than you were when you first arrived," said Dr. Reginald. "You'll have to turn over. Gentlemen, I'll have to ask you to leave." They nodded, leaving.
"Who were they?" I questioned.
"Governor Swann, father of Miss Elizabeth Swann, the young lady who's been watching over you, and Captain Norrington," he replied, slightly taken aback.
"It's my fault she doesn't know, doctor. She only just woke up."
"Ah, I see. Well, lets get you onto your stomach." After much pain, I was on my stomach, and the doctor had shortly inspected what I could only assume were the welts on my back. Turning back over wasn't so painful, but after the ordeal was over I was exhausted and confused. The other two gentlemen came in and closer to the bed as the doctor packed up his bag. He said something to them and Miss Swann, then smiled at me and left. Elizabeth returned to my side.
"How long have I been here?" I asked her.
"Two days, and this third day you woke up," she replied kindly. "But you need rest. You've been hurt badly."
"I know that – I remember it happening."
"Who did it to you?" asked Governor Swann hurriedly, stepping forward. He was the older man, which made sense.
I hesitated before replying. "You wouldn't believe me, sir, if I told you the truth because it would be very foreign to you," I said.
"Who did it to you?" he repeated.
"My parents," I assented. All three were taken aback, and the Governor looked horrified. Despite my efforts to stop them, a few tears trickled down my face.
"Father, I think we ought to let her rest. Don't you think she's been through enough today already?" pleaded Elizabeth. Her father thought for a moment, eyeing me, then nodded.
"Very well, but I'm putting you in charge of caring for her."
"Yes, father," she said. The men left, and Elizabeth produced a cup of tea from somewhere. "Here, drink this," she instructed. "I smuggled it in while father wasn't looking. It'll help you sleep." I was skeptical, but drank the cup of tea, which tasted of peppermint, gin, and something else. It tasted awful, but soon after drinking it, I felt myself slipping off to sleep, where nightmares fitfully played with my mind.
Disclaimer: lyrics from "Gravedigger" by Dave Matthews
Ring around the Rosy Pocket full of posies Ashes to ashes We all fall down
Sleep. Something that hadn't been present in my life for a few months. The second after sitting down in the plush seat in the train car, I nodded off. I awoke to screaming brakes, feeling myself being thrown against the seat in front of me as the train attempted to stop. Pain wracked though my already bruised face. Shakily standing up as the train swayed, I looked around the empty car. What is going on? I thought. Forcing open one of the windows, I looked out the window, the track curving around a hill, then straightening. I saw a bridge in the distance, a bridge that only extended a quarter of the way across a ravine.
"Oh G-d," I breathed, "no, not now." Grabbing my things, I ran towards the exit at the front of the car. The door was locked. Swearing, I stepped back, and savagely kicked at the door, trying to bang it open. It didn't budge. I flew to the back, where the door mercifully opened. I jumped off the train onto the gravel track, running back in the direction we had come. I heard a crash as the bridge collapsed beneath the train, which toppled over. Seconds later, a giant explosion went off, smoke and flames pluming up as the other cars exploded. Pieces of metal ricocheted through the air. I took a chance and looked back. Tripping, I reeled forward, felt something hit the back of my head, and the ground opened up like a grave before....
Gravedigger When you dig my grave Could you make it shallow So that I can feel the rain Oh Gravedigger
Liquor. Some kind of liquor. And a cold cloth.
"Mom?" I croaked a whisper, scarcely able to believe that she would be doing this. And yet she was the first person I thought of.
"Hush, you're all right. Your mother isn't here," came a young, female voice, very English.
"Where am I?" I asked with a great deal of effort.
"Port Royal, at the house of the Governor." My brow furrowed as I tried to make sense of her words. Port Royal? A governor's house?
"Is she awake?" came another, male English voice, from a distance.
"Yes, she has regained her senses. Get my father and Doctor Reginald." I struggled to open my eyes, and the blurry figure of a man in a blue coat of some sort was going through a door. I squeezed my eyes shut, my head splintering in pain. Risking opening them again, my eyes fluttered open, and things were clearer. The room was gigantic, as was the comfortable bed, at least a queen-size. It was a four-poster bed, with a drape-like covering. The room was very 18th century in design. As the woman bent over me, my suspicions were confirmed. She wore an upper class gown, complete with corset, and her hair was done up prettily. She was very young, her hair caramel colored, the dress an off-white with a tiny flower pattern.
A smile greeted my stare.
"Good morning," she said. "How are you feeling?"
Very forward, isn't she?
"Everything hurts, but especially my head," I croaked out. The metallic taste of blood went down as I swallowed. I didn't feel much like talking. There were two paintings of a nobleman and woman, a fireplace, a bureau, a closet, and a chair and table. Heavy drapes hung from the windows to the left, and a screen was set up to the right of the bed. A side-table sat next to the bed, with an elegant lamp and a glass of water. The other table was being used for a pitcher of water, while a basin of water and medicines sat on the bureau's top. Several rolls of bandages were visible. My eyes slid down to what I could see of my body, which only consisted of my arms at this point, and I inwardly sighed as I saw the bandages on my hands and wrists.
"How many bandages do I have on, right now?" I asked.
"Too many, for a young woman your age," said a strict voice that was at the same time gentle. Three men came into the room, the one who had spoken in the lead. He carried a doctor's bag, and wore a gentleman's black suit and breeches that were definitely 18th century. He wore spectacles and a white wig, and of course a tri-cornered hat. I was horrified to be so vulnerable and have three men in the same room with me, and I gulped painfully, watching as the man took the place of the young woman.
"I am Dr. Reginald," said the man. "And what is your name?"
"It used to be Moira Fitzgerald Amherst, but I had it legally changed to Fiona Siohban Fitzgerald." He smiled, trying to appear kind. Why I told him I had had my name changed I didn't know. The two other men in the room were distinguishable to me now – one was an officer in a blue uniform with white cuffs and collar, with a few gold trimmings. He wore a British officer's white wig, and a tri-cornered hat. The other man was significantly older, with a gray wig that one would have seen in the time of Louis XIV. He wore a nobleman's suit, a silvery waistcoat under a deep green coat with breeches of the same green. Both had stockings and the buckled shoes.
"Well, you seem to be doing better than you were when you first arrived," said Dr. Reginald. "You'll have to turn over. Gentlemen, I'll have to ask you to leave." They nodded, leaving.
"Who were they?" I questioned.
"Governor Swann, father of Miss Elizabeth Swann, the young lady who's been watching over you, and Captain Norrington," he replied, slightly taken aback.
"It's my fault she doesn't know, doctor. She only just woke up."
"Ah, I see. Well, lets get you onto your stomach." After much pain, I was on my stomach, and the doctor had shortly inspected what I could only assume were the welts on my back. Turning back over wasn't so painful, but after the ordeal was over I was exhausted and confused. The other two gentlemen came in and closer to the bed as the doctor packed up his bag. He said something to them and Miss Swann, then smiled at me and left. Elizabeth returned to my side.
"How long have I been here?" I asked her.
"Two days, and this third day you woke up," she replied kindly. "But you need rest. You've been hurt badly."
"I know that – I remember it happening."
"Who did it to you?" asked Governor Swann hurriedly, stepping forward. He was the older man, which made sense.
I hesitated before replying. "You wouldn't believe me, sir, if I told you the truth because it would be very foreign to you," I said.
"Who did it to you?" he repeated.
"My parents," I assented. All three were taken aback, and the Governor looked horrified. Despite my efforts to stop them, a few tears trickled down my face.
"Father, I think we ought to let her rest. Don't you think she's been through enough today already?" pleaded Elizabeth. Her father thought for a moment, eyeing me, then nodded.
"Very well, but I'm putting you in charge of caring for her."
"Yes, father," she said. The men left, and Elizabeth produced a cup of tea from somewhere. "Here, drink this," she instructed. "I smuggled it in while father wasn't looking. It'll help you sleep." I was skeptical, but drank the cup of tea, which tasted of peppermint, gin, and something else. It tasted awful, but soon after drinking it, I felt myself slipping off to sleep, where nightmares fitfully played with my mind.
Disclaimer: lyrics from "Gravedigger" by Dave Matthews