Chapter nine: Sudden memory

Anya jerked awake with a horrid headache, and her throat feeling like she had swallowed glass along with sand. But that wasn't the cause for her sudden arrival back into reality from dreamland.

She sat in the bed, gasping for breath; the quilt clutched in a death grip about her. She had always thought...she meant...anyone would. Why didn't she remember that before? All those times...God. She was on the verge of tears again. Twice in a week was mind shattering for her. It was like after the kidnaping, her world was thrown upside down and shaken by the ankles in a fit for information. She knew now...at least a bit that could possibly discern the rest of her past.

"Anya?" Anya swung her head around wildly to see Jack peering at her concernedly; sitting in his desk chair with a book in his hands. It was such an odd site, that she was practically thrown off her train of thought. It was dark out, and she thought it must be around seven p.m. or so.

"Utopia," Jack offered, following her gaze and giving the book a slight wave. "Are you alright?"

Anya was now shaking. She was so startled by the flash of her own memory. It wasn't a dream. She was afraid of telling Jack, for him thinking along those lines.

"I...I..." She couldn't find any words. "My throat hurts," she finally said lamely. Jack gave a single nod and strode out of the room, returning quickly with a tray; on it a cup filled with hot tea. Anya gratefully took it, and quickly took a gulp. She grimaced, and almost spit it out, back Jack bade her to drink it all down.

"I laced it with a bit o' rum, and some tonic that helps soothe the nerves and throat."

"Is it scarlet fever again?" Anya asked as she choked down the rest of the remedy.

"No, once you have that, you never get it again."

"Oh,"

"Why are you so shaken?" Jack asked after a moment. Anya took a deep breath, her throat starting to indeed feel a bit better. Her head, however, was still a different matter.

"I..suddenly remember something," she said in a quiet voice, trying to chose her words carefully.

Instantly, Jack leaned forward in the desk chair he had sat back down in, a hungry look in his face. Something, anything, could help the current situation he was dealing with.

"Yes?" Jack encouraged.

"I..." Anya tried hard not to let the tears that were brimming in her eyes fall. "I was married,"

Whatever Jack was preparing to hear, this was not on the list. In fact, if he could make a list of most improbable things(nothing was impossible) that would be at the top of the list. All was quiet for the longest of time. They could have sat there in silence for minutes, hours, or even years. Time seemed frozen as Jack tried–and failed–to digest that piece of information.

"Your...your sure?" After almost ten minutes passed, Jack finally got his lips to form around words, though they were far away sounding, and rather lost.

"Yes,"

Jack had to stare intently at the woman. He had just given her a passing glance, he would have thought her quite unperturbed, as her face was passive. But, there were tears forming in her eyes, that were so filled with sorrow, it somehow made Jack's heart ache. She loosened her grip on the blankets, instead cradling the cup in her hands as if it would keep her strong, and she could never let go. Her usually thick lips were pressed in a thin line, and a worry crease stuck out on her brow. She was indeed telling the truth.

"Where is he?" Jack ventured, taking a deep breath and trying to dispel the thoughts that were popping up in his mind.

"Dead," Anya said heavily. "He died in battle. I don't know where..."

"Do you have any proof? If you do then it is most likely that you aren't the tzarina of Russia,"

"I told you I'm not!" Anya cried, throwing the cup from her. It fell to the floor without breaking, and she was left to stare dumbly at it.

"But you can't remember your past," Jack argued. "And if you remember something, you have no proof. I know Lord Hanover, and his lust for power. He will not stop if you tell him you were married. He will not stop if you tell him you remember your past. If there is a chance you are the tzarina," He raised a hand to silence her and continued, "If there is a chance, then he will make sure to get everything he can out of it."

It was a dreary picture of her future, painted by the captain; Anya thought bitterly. Now the ball of dread in her stomach grew even bigger and it took a moment for her to finally be able to speak.

"Then why are you sending me to him?" She demanded in a harsh whisper.

"Because I have no other choice!" Jack yelled, standing up again to pace the length of the cabin. "He has already paid me. This ship was from him. If he wants to, I could be stranded on an island, again," he added as an afterthought, more to himself. "Anyways, as much as I would want to, I cant simply let you go. I would have a lot to answer for."

"But you're a pirate!" Anya argued. "What is one more person who hates you, and is after you? You will most likely never live another ten years."

"Don't be so sure," Jack said soberly. "I have a score to settle, and I will live to see that day, whenever that is."

"And what do you do from here until then?"

"Do what pirates do best, Anya..." He trailed off, and a sudden thought hit him. "Anya? You are unwell. We should rest in Portsmouth so you can recover your health..."

Anya's eyes started to sparkle. "I do feel a bit of the ague coming on."

"Rightly so. We can't risk the future ruler of Russia's life."

Jack opened the door and instantly noticed Anya pacing around like a caged lioness. He shut the heavy wood behind him, and leaned against it. Anya stopped and shot a scathing look over at him, her black eyes shining with anger.

"I thought you said we would be buying time!" She screamed, turning to face him fully. Sunlight flittered slowly into the open window, and the people of Portsmouth bustled about in the early morning. They had been in the sea side port almost a week now, supposedly to help the "ailing" tzarina.

"We are." Jack said coldly.

"Then how come we aren't doing anything?" Anya cried, and flung herself onto the bed with a yell.

"We are just buying time, Anya." Jack said, taking a step into the room. "That is all. But time is not on our side, and eventually we will have to continue to Lord Hanover. There is no way out of this situation."

"Then make a way!" Anya sniffed, her face pushed into a pillow. "I don't care if you have to say that I died at sea, or I was trampled by a pack of raging sea nymphs..." She took a breath to continue, but stalled as Jack busted out laughing. She raised her flushed face from the bed and stared with wide eyes at Jack who was sprawled on a chair barking with laughter.

"A pack of raging sea nymphs? Honestly, Anya." Jack became serious. "I once said that I would rather not take you there. But I have an obligation. He gave me almost ten thousand pounds. Which just about covered the cost of supplies for the crew, not to mention the extra ones I had to pick up once we were detoured from your little escape," Anya blushed. "As well as repairs and the wages. Anya, I maybe have a hundred pounds left. I can't pay him back. And I don't exactly want to give up the ship. I am sorry."

Anya slowly rose from the bed. Her chin jutted out and her eyes were completely cold and angry. She took the few steps between her and Jack and with a swift movement, drew back her hand and slapped him.

"I hate you!" she screamed, as Jack felt his stinging cheek, surprised at the amount of strength she threw into that single blow.

"Anya," He said slowly, his eyes narrowing.

"No. Just hurry up and send me to my death. I only hope that when you go to sleep at night, you will forever be haunted by the fact that you sent an innocent person to the wolves. I curse the day I ever went into your wife's service. Thank you for the extra time you have given me to dwell on my fate." She snarled sarcastically. " Thank you, Derack Fox."