Disclaimer: POTC isn't mine. But it put the word 'savvy' into the general vocabulay. Yay for POTC!
A/N: I've drawn so many pics of Squirrel, Jack and the kids regarding this snippet of the shortshots… I thought it was about time I posted the actual story. And the end of it. Speaking of drawings, Clymestra drew a little pic of what she thought the scene at the end of the previous chapter would look like. I was greatly amused, and honoured, and just had to giggle at the look on Jack's face. Go check it out! It's on DeviantArt, at the account of the same name - Clymestra. Girl, you rock.
Side note: the third and forth sentences of this chapter come from 'Property of the Clan' (aka Blackrock, starring Heath Ledger). We studied the play in Drama class, and somehow it seemed appropriate.
She didn't see him. That much was clear. All she saw was hatred. Blind hatred.
"Squirrel," Jack whispered.
Squirrel cocked the gun and her hand tensed around the poker. She didn't know who was speaking but she didn't care. She'd just beaten four men to death and the haze was still in front of her eyes and she would GLADLY kill AGAIN if ANYONE so much as even TRIED to come NEAR HER.
"Mum?" Kelly and Johnny pushed through the doorway, flanking their father. "Mum, what are you doing?"
Squirrel's eyes flickered for a moment, and the haze lifted.
Johnny caught the gun before it hit the floor and expertly disarmed it. Kelly rushed to her mother's arms and held her in a fierce embrace, glad that she was still alive. But Squirrel did not move, did not lift her eyes from Jack's gaze.
Johnny saw his mother's pain; he saw his father's confusion. But he did not speak.
"Come on, Mum," Kelly said, tugging at her mother's sleeve. "Let get out of here, ey? Back to the Pearl?"
Squirrel nodded mutely, her eyes still on Jack's, as she led herself away. Jack and Squirrel held each other's gaze until they were separated by a solid wall.
Johnny looked around the blood-splattered room. The bodies of the dead Frenchmen they would leave. There was nothing here worth taking. The only things that they could take were the memories, and no doubt Squirrel wished she could leave those behind.
He looked to his father. Jack frowned, lost in thought. Johnny held Squirrel's gun out, and Jack tucked it absently into his belt.
"Come on, son," the pirate said, "Let's catch up to the girls, ey?" There was a joviality in his voice which did not reach his eyes or his gold-toothed smile.
Johnny silently agreed - not with his father's words, but with what went unsaid.
The ship was underway, bucking gently in the waves of the coming storm. Squirrel had not moved once. She stood on the prow, above the figurehead, holding onto the railing with white-knuckled hands and staring resolutely out at sea.
"They never got the chance to rape her," Kelly said, crimson with anger. "But they might as well have done it." She stared out at her mother from the shelter of the cabin. "Ana's trying to talk to her but Mum can't hear Ana anymore. Not since I was born." She looked crestfallen at this, as though she were to blame.
Johnny turned to look at his father. He was leaning against the wall, all his confidence and swagger gone. He was worried. Sick with worry.
"Don't worry," Kelly said, as the storm clouds began to roll in. "She'll be alright." But there was no certainty in her voice. She wore her heart on her sleeve, that girl.
The rain picked up, and the deck was suddenly awash with warm tropical rain. Far away, behind the Pearl, there was blue sky and sunlight. But out here was all grey.
"I have to talk to her," Jack said, trying to move forward. But Johnny put up his arm to bar his father's path.
"No," Johnny said quietly, "Leave her to the rain." He was never one for big speeches, nor for speaking unnecessarily.
Three heads turned to face the figure at the prow, the woman dressed in grey, who stood alone in the downpour.
Squirrel shut her eyes and let the water wash over her. She saw it all again, but this time she did not shrink from the memory. This time, she let it sluice right off her, let the rain wash the filth from her.
She relived it all, and let herself cry and whimper and endure the wracking sobs that shook her body. She had not screamed then - she wouldn't give them that pleasure. She'd waited until they were too busy gloating over her to notice she'd had the poker in her hand and then she'd made her way to her gun and then they'd realised what a feral beast they'd brought into their midst…
Squirrel shuddered and her tears mingled with the rain as she remembered the taste of blood in her mouth. She'd killed before, but she'd never felt so alone, so small… So helpless. Jack had told her she'd never be helpless again. And he was right. But he couldn't know… Couldn't know how she felt.
She'd enjoyed it. She'd killed the men and enjoyed it. But then, afterwards… the guilt! The fear! The blood! She leaned heavily on the rails and sobbed as water ran through her hair and down her face. She wouldn't be able to face him. Not like this. Jack would be scared to touch her now. Her children wouldn't be able to look her in the eye. She wouldn't be able to be near any of them. Everything would have changed.
That suddenly sounded ridiculous in the rain. Squirrel opened her eyes, and found herself thinking her tears foolish. She realised the storm washing over her was not as bad as she'd thought. The rain was soft and refreshing; warm, and not cold. Likewise would be her reception. Her family would not - could not - turn her away. They were her family. And they loved her, no matter the storms they had to weather. The thought made Squirrel smile, faintly at first. She heard a vague voice calling her, and slowly answered back. Polo, she thought lightly, and the smile broadened across her lips. There wasn't any answer, but she knew why she'd been called.
Sopping wet, Squirrel turned. Her children and her husband were watching her, eyes wide with concern and the desire to go to her, to comfort her.
So Squirrel stepped away from the railing and made her way through the rain to by with them. She'd barely made two steps before her husband was running through the rain to pick her up and hold her tightly in his arms, breathing apologies and cursing himself. She silenced him with a kiss.
Nothing had changed. That much was certain. And so much for the better.
From the shelter of the cabin, Johnny looked at his sister. "The rain," he smiled, and did not need to say any more. They crossed the deck and went to see their mother smile.
A/N: Yes, I know. Soppy ending. But it's a happy ending! I just needed practice to hone my fluff skills, is all. But enough of that. The next shortshot will be very different. Indeed it will be. Oh, and once again, thanks to Clymestra for drawing me that awesome picture. I owe you one!