Part 29

The howling wind wailed in restless abandon. Swirling into the black oblivion. The once bright blue sky now thunderous with angry clouds. Rain splattered like icy knives across the deck. The wind carried it to and fro, making the air cold and relentless in its cause of natural destruction.

Boots pounded against the thunder, hurrying from one place to the next. Fighting to keep the big ship in control. The white sails that once blew proudly against the gentle wind now were lowered quickly as they flapped dangerously , threatening to tear.

Yells emanated through the thick fog of rain and fog. Feet thumped from here to there. Slick bodies of men fought against the storm to perform their duties and save their lives. The heavy darkness offered little reprieve from the difficult task.

The storm raged on. The ship heaved and crashed against powerful waves. Some of which washed on board, soaking the drenched sailors even more. Unsteadying their precarious balance, blinding them. Drowning them. Mercifully they all managed to hold on.

In between the chaos and frantic manoeuvring Max gripped the wheel with white knuckled tightness. His expression determined, his jaw clenched. His drenched clothes plastered against his body,chilling him to the core. He took no notice however. He grew detached from his surroundings. His firm concentration on navigating his ship safely through the furious storm. He could not afford to be cold.

Lives depended on him. He was their leader to safety. He was responsible for the welfare as well as the ship's...and his own. Mother nature would not send another wreck into the bottom of the sea. Not this one for sure. He would not be a victim. No one would die on this night...

Flashes of warm brown eyes and a petite body came to mind. One that was now tied and huddled below, most probably praying they would get through this. And they would. Clenching his teeth he twisted the wheel to the right with all his speed and might. Rain stung his eyes, briefly robbing him of sight. He fought against it, putting his head down as a measure of protection.

He tensely observed the running shipmates around him, each engrossed in their own live saving work, and all working together. He tried to watch them but knew it was of no use. He had to keep his eyes ahead. He couldn't keep count and watch for any accidents. Any men overboard. He hoped there would be none. He probably would not be able to do anything about that...but his conscience would forever plague him. He would not be the cause of anyone's deaths.

Turning with all his might to the left he vowed to himself. They would get through this.

"Maxwell!" The shout came from far away and he recognised the voice as Michael's. Keeping a steady hand in the wheel he twisted around and gazed through the foggy distance. He saw shadows and forms, but could not discern where Michael was.

Then he saw him, Hanging tightly to the ropes at the rail as he staggered toward him. Thw harsh wind blew against him, making his trek that much harder to bear, but Michael endured. His arm slung over his eyes as he got closer. Max watched him tensely, willing him to arrive to his side.

A final lunge brought Michael to the stairs. Eagerly he climbed them up and headed straight toward him. Clutching a beam beside them he heaved mightily, his breath coming out in shallow wisps.

"Michael! What's the matter?" Max demanded, Michael took a moment to regain some of his breath before he attempted to speak.

"We-Have...-trouble." came out and Michael bent down at the waist whilst closing his eyes in reprieve.

Max's heart began an even more furious beat at the declaration. "Christ! What is it!"

Michael opened his mouth and closed it as a particularly large wave assailed them drowned his words. When it passed they were both shivering with the impact but spoke naught of it. It was no time to complain.

" Lower deck- cannons- trapped." Was all Max could make out over the yowling. But the meaning was evident and Max felt his body truly grew cold for the first time. He needn't ask to be clarified what was obviously clear. Someone was trapped against a cannon on the lower deck.

Quickly he surveyed the it as it stretched out before him. The vision was slim but he could still make out the bodies. No one would die today. He had vowed that and he would not break that vow. Turning to Michael he clasped his shoulder tightly to gain hi attention.

" Michael! Listen to me," and when he was sure he was doing so he went on, shouting at the top of his lungs to be sure he was heard clearly. "Take over for me. Quick!" He did not wait for Michael to acknowledge him. He only shoved him in his placed and slammed his hand to the wheel. Whether or not he heard it was clear what he was supposed to do.

Max wasted no time in plunging into the whirling mass of angry nature. His steps sure, his grip tight, his foot sure. It would not do to hesitate even for the briefest moments. At all costs he must get to the trapped sailor.

It was hard to see where he was going. The deck was slippering, the floor out of control beneath his feet. Grasping the rigging his hid his face-downwards and started to pull himself in the general direction. He could hear the crew's yelling and movements mote clearly now. His vision was blurry, but when he made himself look up he saw three large mate standing in a line, pulling with a rope at the slanted cannon. Upon closer inspection he could see the sailor that sat in agony, squashed against it's weight.

Facing Mother nature's fury he lunged toward them. The sailors were not surprised to see him there. Quickly he started to shove them here and there to gain a position at the rope.

"Grip tightly men! Don't let go!" he yelled through the sputter of rain in his mouth.

But they heard them and did as he commanded. Max knew that if they let go, that cannon was going to roll more against the poor man and he would surely be doomed. The rope was rough and slick in his palm, but he held it firm and sure. His boots slippery on the deck but for now planted in a secure stance. The wind blew mightily. His body involuntarily shivered. Willing his body's agony to subside he clenched his jaw and closed dark, fiery eyes tightly.

"Hold firm! On the count of three I want you to use every bloody ounce of you strength to pull!" He shouted with a strong commanding voice. He waited a moment to make sure they were all ready.

" One..." His fingers tightened.

"Two..." He tensed. His muscles flexed.

"Three!" He screamed at the top of his lungs to counter the now equally screaming wind. In the next instant, his muscles bulged and his palms began to burn. As one they used their combined strength to pull. The wheels couldn't be heard but as their backward steps increased the farther away the cannon drifted from the wounded sailor. As soon as it was safe enough two other sailors rushed to his aide, hefting him up and dragging him to further safety.

Max let go of the of the rope and he watched it roll forward and bang against the wall. The others scattered once more, unto more important things. Max grimly turned around to head back to the helm. He was immediately assaulted by icy pins and billowing that numbed his body. Lighting struck and illuminated the sky. Thunder roared overhead.

The ship gave a sudden lurch to the side. Max never heard or saw it coming. The cannon hit him with a strength that sent him sprawling. If he wasn't so numb he knew his leg would be searing with agonizing pain. Briefly he thanked the gods he couldn't.

Quickly he made himself roll until he hit the wall. Grabbing onto something solid he thought of nothing else but dragging himself to safety...so that he may then lead the others.

" Damn it Maxwell hold still!" Michael growled as he attempted to push the stubborn captain back down on the bunk in one of the sailor's cabins.

Max struggled against his hold. When his arms were held in resistance he tried to use his legs as leverage.

"Ahhh" he gritted his teeth so the shout came out only as a deep moan. Searing pain travelled from his leg up to encompass his entire being.

" I told you to hold still." Michael muttered as he warily released his hold from his arms. When Max made no further attempt to rise he relaxed somewhat and then turned to motion for one of the men to bring the bandages and cleansing tools in.

Max said nothing as Michael took scissors to his breeches and began to rip them apart. His shirt had been long since taken off to offer him more warmth and comfort. When the breeches too were disregarded Michael covered him with a sheet but only left his leg to his open view.

Whistling in exclamation he gently touched it with his finger. He didn't miss Max's wince.

"Dammit Michael have a care!" he hissed and shifted on the mattress to get more comfortable.

"My pardon captain, "Michael apologized and then continued to prod more gently so as not to cause him too much pain.

The silence stretched as Michael worked then getting impatient and frustrated Max demanded, "Well? How is it?"

Michael frowned then turned to reach for a basin of soap and hot water. " I don't see any broken bones. Your leg isn't dented, "Michael smirked, "But there's a hell of a bruise from your thigh down your legs. A few cuts here and there."

Max tried to raise his head to see for himself. The action however slightly shifted his leg and he moaned and flopped back down onto his back. " Christ" he swore softly and in exasperation. "I do not need this now."

" Yer lucky yer not dead captain so don't ye start complaining, " Whimsey walked in with a plate. The delicious aroma flooded the room. "Here's something from cook, ta make you feel better he said."

Max huffed, gave a muttered thanks and waved Whimsey out.

"He's right you know that cannon could've killed you." Max turned his head to see Michael surveying him seriously. Had Max not known him so well he would have missed the flash of fear in his eyes.

Softening slightly to his friend he tried to joke, "Oh aye and who's bad steering caused that. "He arched a brow.

Michael flushed a deep red. In anger and in shame. He swore under his breath and ran a hand threw his hair, looking away guiltily. "Hell Maxwell we were in a bloody storm!..."

A strong hand came to rest on his shoulder and halted his speech. Max smiled gently at him. " No worries Michael. I am alive and well. It was no one's fault. Certainly not yours to bear. You did well." This time Michael's flush was one of embarrassment and relief.

After that Max allowed his friend to gingerly cleanse and bandage his leg. On his request he also dressed him in breeches once more. It was a difficult task but Max gritted his teeth and accepted it.

As Michael was approaching with the steaming food Max sat up and suddenly frowned. " Is everybody here and accounted for?"

Michael nodded his head." I also checked on Maria. A little bruised with the tossing around but well."

Max straightened in alarm. "And what of Liz?" he demanded.

Michael's eyes widened suddenly. He opened his mouth then closed it again. He turned bewildered and apologetic eyes to Max. " I must have missed her, but I presume she's faring just as well."

Max had no such thoughts. Suddenly his blood was pounding furiously in his veins. His pulse raced, and his heart beat like a large deafening drum within his chest. The signs were all there. His body would respond so on several occasions. One of sexual pleasure and the other...of fear.

Hastily he flung the covers aside, and quick as lightening, he swung both his legs to the side of the bed. He cursed loud and long, biting back his groan of pain.

"Maxwell! What the hell are you doing?" Michael rushed to his side to try and push him back. Max shoved him aside with surprising strength.

" Damn it all Michael. I have to go to her!" he tried to stand up but knew he wouldn't be able to without assistance. He glare at Michael. " Help me up." It was a command. His captain had issued an order, it was there in the tone of his voice. He knew his protestation would serve no purpose.

In resignation he strode forward and pulled Max up who leaned heavily onto his shoulder. They stood there for a moment until Max found his footing then proceeded to the door. With every step he cursed silently, until they arrived at her door. Wasting no time Max flung open the door and stepped inside.

His heart stopped.

She was not on the bed. His eyes registered the rope that was still tied there, but there was no brown haired beauty on the other end. In a panic he glanced about the room. A few toppled items, the closed porthole...and the still figure lying as still as the dead on the ground.

Max saw red. Unheeding of his own pain he pushed Michael from him and hopped his way to her. Dropping to her side, he raked her with her eyes before reaching out trembling hands to turn her to him.

She was deathly pale, and unmoving. He briefly wondered what happened but paid that thought no mind. Clasping her more firmly to him he bent down to put his ear to her chest. Her heart still beat. He released his held breath.

Michael rushed after him. He saw her there and bent down to try and take the burden from him. But Max held her more tightly to him and refused to allow her to be pried from his hold. He raised deadly eyes to Michael...who backed away.

With agonizing pain Max held her in his arms and determinedly raised himself to his full height. He buried her petite body against his chest and revelled in her closeness. Then without further thought or speculation he turned, and painfully limped toward the bed.

Darkness swirled around her. She felt herself waking. Her black vision began to dim. Light filtered through her lids and slowly she revived. Confusion assaulted her. Pain stabbed at her and she groaned. Where was she? What happened? Why was she in so much pain?

Parts of her body ached greatly, but mostly her head throbbed as if she was hit over and over again with a wooden block. Her eyes slowly began to lift. It was still dark, of that she could see. At first she wasn't sure if was still unconscious but before she could contemplate that further, her vision began to blur slightly and then she was able to see shadows and forms and a soft light emanating from somewhere.

It hurt to open her eyes but she was determined to find out what on earth was going on. Patiently she waited until she could see clearly. It was dark...night she surmised. She turned her head to one side carefully and observed the view around her. From what she could see it looked like a room.

She felt beneath her. It was soft and silky. Beneath her head lay something fluffy. A bed. She was on a bed. Somehow the feel of it beneath her was very familiar. But dismissing that thought for the time being she tried to recall what happened. Apparently she must have been in some accident of a sort to be lying in a bed and feeling all achy.

A slight groaned came from beside her. Liz's eyes grew wide and her heart started to beat faster. Fear flooded her. Who was there? It sounded like as if it came from right beside her. She panicked and tried to jump up and move away, but the pain stopped her effectively. She dared not moan however for fear of alerting whoever it was to her wakefulness.

Carefully and fearfully she turned her head to the other side. It was darker there and she waited until her eyes adjusted to the blackness. It was then she saw it. It was sitting in a chair that was pushed close to her bed. It was bending over and it's upper half was lying on the bed. A she looked more closely she saw it was human. The upper body was on the mattress, hands under its head. The head itself was dark...and short. So it must be a he.

Disoriented as she was, she sensed something about him that gave her paused. It was like she knew him...and suddenly she was not afraid of him... Curiously she gently lifted her hand. Her fingers barely reached but she managed to touch his hair. It was soft and silky. She sighed.

She saw him shift, and groan again. It was like he was restless about something. Not sure what to do she touched his hair once more. One of his hands shot out from beneath his head and gripped it. Liz started.

His palm was big and warm. He settled. Liz sighed again and nestled more comfortably. She realized she was tired. Perhaps when the morning came everything will be clearer. Right now, she wanted to sleep. Her eyes drifted close and slowly he faded from view as she fell into a fitful sleep.

When next she awoke Liz saw that it was day through the small window. Feeling lethargic she twisted her head in time to see the door open. Her head still hurt terribly and the sound disturbed her.

A man strode in though that distracted her. He limped as he carried something. He was staring grimly at her. He was so handsome. When he neared her she opened her eyes fully to view him completely. He sat down in a chair and turned toward her.

Their eyes locked. She saw the shock in his. She didn't what was wrong but she frowned when she looked closely at him. Those eyes of his were hollowed and bleary. His jaw had a few day's growth of beard. His clothes were in chaos.

"Liz." he whispered raggedly. A had came to rest at her cheek. She closed her eyes briefly at the contact. It sent delightful shivers down her spine. Her arm raised toward him. His other hand reached for it, enclosing hers with his.

Liz smiled softly. He sat back and brought forth what he was holding before. He dipped a cloth in it and then squeezed water out of it. Gently he brought it to her face. Liz revelled in the contact.

"Max..." she sighed softly as her eyes blinked dreamily. His lips quirked up slightly.

"Shhh sweet sprite. Rest yourself." his words were low and soothing. Caressing her back to slumber. He needn't have tried twice. Her lids shut and she once again slumbered. This time, peacefully.

"Liz?" the words came from far away.

"Liz." they were clearer, coming closer...drawing her somewhere.

"Liz!" Her eyes opened and she groaned at the interrupted. She had been having the sweetest dream. "Welcome back to the living sweetie."

It was then she saw Maria hovering over her, smiling brightly. Liz shook her head to clear it and rubbed at her eyes. "Wh-what?" her voice came out soft.

Maria's look gentled. "Oh darling what an ordeal you have gone through. How do you feel?"

Liz struggled to sit up. The pain in her head had ebbed. She raised a tentative hand to explore. She felt the bandage that was wrapped neatly around her head. She tried to recall most of what happened but it was all a bit blurry. All she remembered was that she was trying to close the porthole, and on her way back to the security of the bed she blacked out.

"I-I'm fine Maria. A slight pain in the head and other few place but I am well." she relied to reassure her.

Maria smiled. "That is well. He took good care of you then."

Liz frowned at that. He? Who?..."Who took care of me?" she asked.

Maria simply gave her a triumphant smile and a wink. "Why out dear captain ofcourse." Liz started. Captain? Max? Max took care of her? But... "He was truly ferocious too! Wouldn't let anyone else help. No one could come near you. He said he would take care of you." Maria sighed as if that act was so heroic and romantic.

Liz's head was reeling. She couldn't believe it. But then snippets of several nights came back to her in that instant. Her eyes widened as she remembered and her heart started to beat a fast rhythm. She remembered the clasp of his hand, the touch of his palm to her cheek. His sweet soothing words. Liz flushed at the memories.

Casting Maria a sly glance she noticed her looking curiously at her. She would most probably probe if she thought Liz could provide any information. So she did the only thing she could. She fell back on the pillow and groaned. Maria was immediately on guard.

"Liz? sweetie what is the matter?" she asked anxiously.

"N-nothing, tis just I suddenly feel a little weary. I..." she let her voice trail away to prove her fatigue. Maria took the bait. Immediately she stood up, ordered her to sleep some more and told her she would leave and visit her when she is feeling better. Liz felt bad at the deception, but at the moment she couldn't handle any more shared information. Especially after what she had learned.In the meantime however, she decided to take advantage of the situation and rest some more.

A door opening and shutting awoke her next. Liz's eyes opened and then grew wide as she watched the approaching figure. Again she noticed the limp he had.

"How do you feel Liz?" Max asked softly and Liz looked at him. He looked better than she last saw him. She wondered briefly if he knew she remembered those nights. He'd shaved and the hollowness had disappeared. His clothes looked more presentable.

"I am well." she cleared her throat once. Her eyes then drifted toward his and there they stayed. There were so mesmerizing. Hypnotic. But this time, there was no deep hunger or desire that emanated from them. There was something in there that made her blush, her heart flutter and melt.

" I am glad." he replied and Liz was surprised that for the first time, Max stood there in the middle of the room, shifting from one foot to the other, awkwardly. Unbelievably it made her smile softly and gesture to the chair by the bed.

"Please sit down." and hesitantly he approached. When he sat they said nothing for a long time. For the first time since meeting him...she suddenly felt shy.

She looked down and blushed again. Her hand fiddled with the covers. Another rested over hers. Immediately she looked up. His hand enclosed hers in a warm embrace. One that made her wish he had all of her wrapped up against him.

His eyes held something she didn't quite understand. Then he smiled, and she forgot about his eyes and turned her attention to his mouth. Such a beautiful mouth. Liz gulped. She looked back at him again.

His other hand moved to caress the side of her face and her hair. She shivered. This man...pirate, barbarian and thief...the one who forced her to give her body to him, the one who took her prisoner with him under false accusations, the one who spoke savagely and seductively to her.

The one who cared for her. Didn't allow anyone else near her. The one who beared the responsibility of her healing. The one who touched her so tenderly and gently. Who spoke soothingly to her and stayed by her side throughout the nights she needed him.

Liz swallowed painfully as she felt something important shift inside her. She wasn't sure what but...something did.

"How long did I spend here?" she asked to distract herself.

" 5 days." he replied.

"5 days! good heavens, that long!" Liz exclaimed, unable to believe it. Five days he'd spent with her...

A knock sounded at the door.

"Enter." Max called.

The door opened and Whimsey entered. He gave Liz a once over then smiled slightly and nodded to her. Liz hesitantly smiled. Then he turned his attention to Max.

"We'll be dockin' soon Captain. Just thought I'd let you know." he said.

Liz noticed Max's expression tighten and turn very grim. She wondered what was wrong. He nodded and dismissed him. When Whimsey had gone he rose himself.

"Where are we?" Liz was quick to ask. he gave her a look, but not a harsh one.

"England." was his curt reply. He started to head for the door as Liz was trying to grasp the fact that they were in England.

He hesitated a step before turning back to her. His expression less dark. "Stay here and rest some more Liz. You have suffered quite a bit. We will not be long here. Business needs attending to..." he paused then looked as if he decided to go on, "I will be going to shore for a while. I will however be back the next day." He strode over to the door.

" Take care of yourself little sprite. " were his words as he went out the door.

" Well? What news do you have for me?" Sean demanded of his informant. He paced back and forth in front of his desk in impatience. When the man didn't answer fast enough to his liking he stopped and glared at him. "Well! Speak up you insolent fool! Whatever do I pay you for?"

The man realized the threat and immediately set forth, " To summarize my report sir it appears that the Hawk has recently been to France. On what business I am not aware of or any other person that I have questioned. It is my belief that it is the usual piracy milord. I believe he is simply gone to catch some game."

Lord Deluca strode to the window of his town house and contemplated the view. "Game is it? Well..." he turned to smirk evilly at the inferior man. " Tis game he shall receive."

And with that he ordered the man out of sight and set forth to plan a trip to France.

Max got ready to hop into the longboat before Michael detained him with hand to his shoulder. "Are you certain you don't want me to come with you?"

Max shook his head. "No. I want you here to mind the ship." and then started to climb over the side. He met Michael's gaze squarely before jumping out of view. " Trust in this Michael. I know what I'm going." and with that he was gone into the night.

There was quite a trek for them from the ship to the centre of London. The need for safety required that they dock a long way from an spotting sights. Clad in simple breeches and shirt Max held a bundle in his arms and made the journey alone. None of the crew was to accompany him. This was a mission of the gravest secrets. No one knew of it except for Michael.

It did not please him what he had to do, but he knew he had no choice. Once a good distance away he stopped and stripped off his clothes, opened the bundle and donned the ones in there.

He hoped he looked good. Straightening them slightly and brushing the dust away he threw his other clothes away and continued on with the walk. It took him half the night but he finally made it.

Walking through the cobbled stones and lamps of London Max was struck by memories. Memories he would rather he forget, forever.

He got to a point where he saw the cobbled streets and lamps of London. They reminded him of whom he sued to be a long time ago. Whom he still is...but so far away from it. They were so familiar. The feel of the ground beneath his boot heels, the soft glow of the lights as they illuminated the way. Max shied away from further investigation in his mind.

A hackney suddenly rolled by. Without thought he hailed it, and once inside gave the driver the address and then sat stiffly in his seat, refusing to even think about where he was going.

When it stopped, it was too soon for him. Max stepped out and paid the driver before he could even open his mouth. Without a word he strode on, up the stone steps and to the large polished door. In the distance he heard the hackney move on but he paid it no mind. He prepared himself. He could feel the effect to the very core of his being. But he refused to let it show in the outside just how affected he was by his return. He must endure it however. If only for the sake of his mission.

Facing the man, becoming the man he used to be and still is...if only for a short while...was necessary. It had to be done. So without further ado he banged on the knocker. And waited.

He allowed his mind to go blank .He thought of nothing else expect his goal this night. His memories were held at bay. His pain, disregarded for now. The door opened. An elderly man stood there. He was shorter than Max, thin and with white receding hair. He wore elegantly cut livery with impeccably white gloves that shone in the darkness. Obviously he was the butler.

He stood there looking solemnly at Max as if he'd never seen him before. They both gazed intently at each other. Neither spoke a word. Then...the butler bowed slowly, head down, hand to waist. His words echoed into the night.

"Good evening Your Grace."