I base a lot on dialogue, because...I can. I have never felt most of these emotions. I am better with words then emotions anyway. I remember one guy said to me: "Christina, I could carry on a conversation with you, and you could bare your soul with a straight face, but if I tried to hug you or anything, you would be completely unresponsive." Its just...I am more comfortable with words, so I suppose I will be an old spinster.

Chapter seven: The Sparrow and the Magpie

I was suddenly awoken by Sparrow bursting through the door. It was the wee hours of the mourning, when the weak sunlight was just barely starting to shine through the giant windows. He came in, and shut the door, trying to be quite. But he over exerted himself, and it slammed. He made an "oops" sound, then did what could only be defined as...giggling.

Yes. You read correctly. He giggled.

"Gotta be quite!" He whispered to no one in particular. In fact, he might have seen someone right there with him. I slowly sat up, and stared at him as he threw off his coat and pulled off his boots. He was swaying uncontrollably, and every now and then he would fall over and go "oof". It wasn't until he tried climbing into bed, that he noticed I was awake.

"Damn! Sorry, love. Didn' mean te wake ya." He slurred. I nearly gagged at the smell of stale liquor that lingered on him. He fell into the bed, and his head landing on my legs painfully.

"Sparrow, you are drunk." I snorted. He looked up at me, a foolish grin on his face. However; his bloodshot eyes lacked mirth.

"Aye, and sour with it too." He sighed, and closed his eyes.

"Sparrow...you had better get off me...or I'll...I'll...clobber you!" He winced at the loudness of my words.

"Please try to keep it d-d-down." He said stifling a yawn. I tried to push him off, but he was just dead weight. I fell back onto the pillows, but sleep took me instantly.

"I'm sorry." Sparrow said, completely flushing red. He rolled out of the bed, and I laid there, the blankets up to my chin.

"For what?"

"Dammit, Mack!" He swore, pulling on a shirt, so his voice was muffled. "I...well..."

"What?" I asked suspiciously. The way he trailed off did not make me happy.

"I drug you all the way here, for nothin'."

"What do you mean, nothing?" I squeaked in a high voice.

"Just that...nothing! Im so sorry...but I made up that story about the rose." My jaw dropped.

"...what?" My heart was in my throat, and it started beating erratically. In fact, I thought I would pass out.

"Why...did you lie?" Sparrow sat down on his chair by the large desk. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. I knew he would have a headache...He had seemed to drink himself silly.

"Because! I needed a reason for you to stay, and without me having to worry about you running away...again." His voice seemed heavy, and guilt-laden. I couldn't believe this. This all power full captain was slowly breaking down. It was unbelievable to the extreme.

"You could have done that anyway..." I said quietly, slowly tracing the swirls on the blanket. I didn't look up, but I could tell his eyes were boring into mine.

"Don't joke, Mack." He said in a serious voice, void of anything. I looked up finally, and my eyes were wet.

"Don't joke, Jack." I echoed.

I jumped out of the bed, still in my clothes from the day before, and quickly walked out of the cabin. My mind was reeling. It was a shower of emotions. Anger, and misery. Happiness, and angst. I ran to the railing, and for a spit second, I wondered about jumping ship and leaving. But no. I couldn't. I was angry at Jack...Oh yes. I was livid about that part...but a strange emotion was slowly pulling me away from the side of the massive ship, like a puppet strung to its master. I looked at the gray shoreline, and sighed. I wanted to go home. To my mother and father. I wanted my life. I wanted it all to just...go away. I wished I could wake up and be in my old lumpy bed. Straw and all...and I would take it in a heartbeat. And I had complained about it when I did have it.

"Mackenzie?" I turned around, and quickly rubbed my eyes.

"Mmm. Yes?" I asked, clearing my throat. It was one of the crew members, who's name I couldn't say. He said my name in a nasal sort of accent.

"I was told te give ye this." He shoved a piece of parchment into my hands, then stalked off. It was sealed with wax, and seemed thick. I climbed up to the crow's nest, and sat down, cross legged. I was totally unaware as to what exactly I would find.

"What do we have here?" I broke the seal that was a crest, unknown to me. The first page was merely some scribbles. I put that to the side, and second one had words. It was completely filled with words. I scanned it for a moment, wondering if it was worth my time, but my heart leapt into my ears as I read the name: "Victoria"...for a moment it didn't register that it was my mums name. I quickly started from the top.

We have been monitoring the person. Name: Victoria Shane. She is married with a small child, Mackensy. Last seen outside small shanty, calling in daughter.

It is confusing, as her heritage dates back to the black Irish, and most likely of royal blood. Figured she married for love. Her husband, Gerald Shane, is a brutish sort of man. But seems kind enough.

The last time I had spoken to Victoria, was when she was in her own home, in England. She seemed aloof, and almost untouchable.

I stopped reading, and tossed the papers. They slowly spiraled down like white butterflies, and landing into the ocean. I sat back, and sighed.

There was so much I didn't know about my mother. When I would as her about her parents she would say: "Why! They were monarchs of the highest kind. They wore silk to bed, and satin to eat. Even their shoes had diamonds and rubies on the heels. They wore robes of state that were so heavy with gold cloth and gems, just to go outside! And even their horses saddles were the best." I would look up at her.

"Yeah right, mum!" Was all I would say. But I was always fascinated by the stories she wove for me.

"Mack?" I looked down to see Sparrow standing below me, looking up and shading his eyes for the sun. I almost jumped off, wanting to be with him, then stifled the feel and simply called out, "What?"

"You've been up there for a bit..." I glance up at the sky. It was true, the sun was in a different position, and the margin said I was up there for maybe two hours.

"So?"

"Well...I jest wanted ta know if you were going to be up there any longer." His voice was non-chalant(sp?), but I could tell he was on tenterhooks for some reason. His body seemed taut, wound like a tight spring, ready to spring into action. I quickly climbed down, feeling a need to be by him.

"Hungry?" I asked airily, and flounced a little too obvious to the galley. He followed me, and when we were both seated on the long bench, did he speak.

"Im sorry...I should have–" I shushed him.

"Just don't say anything. Its alright. Besides, I think I would have suffocated in that damn shop." He chuckled softly. I noticed he slowly started to relax, and finally after a few moments, he had one elbow on the table, and was looking at me with his old expression.

"Has my face gone green?" I asked, comically feeling around. At once, the tension that was left in the room snapped, and we were both laughing.