Risen

Summary: Thoughts, musings, tales, and emotions, all building up over the course of ten years and then some…It's enough to drive a man crazy. Some drabbles from the crew under Barbossa.

Disclaimer: POTC and all characters save for my OCs belong to Da Mouse, and Disney. I do not claim them, I merely borrow them from they're comfortable life-styles in the Archives.

I never told you what I did for a living. -MCR
"And it was you who sent Bootstrap to the depths!"

Mallot

Too many Times

Occasionally, we'd run into each other, and that was never really a good thing. It usually ended up with us two fucking, but that always had to be proceeded by the bitch trying to kill me. It wasn't a tedious relationship; we just hated each other, yet used each other for the same purpose.

Survival.

I didn't need her, even then. I had my brother, and he'd die for family, so it was fine. Still, I enjoyed her company after we made up and she took her knives back and I put my hammer away. She could be quite pleasant, every now and then. Our fighting protected us from each other; we grew eager for it, anticipating the next row, and long for the apologies, and so we never really meant to kill…just hurt. Hurt each other as hard and as deep as we possibly could.

We'd fight a lot; every time we saw each other, our first reaction was to reach for a weapon. We'd have to be torn apart by her father's sailors, and Grapple, who simply couldn't understand how two people who detested each other so much could make love twenty minutes later. Grapple would always say, "One day, yore going to figure out you've played that game one too many times." I'd smirk, because I didn't understand.

Then I got shot, and it was her fault. She hadn't even pulled the trigger let alone held the gun, but it was her fault. She knew it, too, and felt guilty. Partially jealous, as well; she wanted to be the one to send to bullet into me. I took my precious time about getting better; it was a week before I finally got sick of lying down and got up, but I fell over; I didn't try again for another month. Finally she got sick of it, and came into my room, yelling and swearing at me. She was crying, though, and I smirked because I didn't understand.

When I was walking again, and fine as if nothing had happened, I realized I had been with her for a while. Or relationship was on and off, of course; our paths would part, and we'd run into each other sooner or later…but this time, we'd stayed by each other's side for months, and hadn't fought since I'd been hurt. I didn't know why or how that was possible, but I knew she realized it as well. When we held each other that night, I smirked because I didn't understand.

We parted again a while later; Grapple and I went off to crew under Jack Sparrow. Then Barbossa came along, convinced us all to throw away the bird. Grapple shook his head when it was all over and stayed a fair distance from the captain unless he had too. I would shrug it off, figure he was home sick because of his Sara and little ones. But then I started to do that, and I missed her. We went to the island, stole the gold, and went home. I saw her again, and we fought, and we fucked, and I left.

We were cursed; we'd pissed the Aztec gods off, and we were completely naïve to their warnings. Days, followed by months, followed by a few years went by. Slowly, one by one it seemed, we got the coins back, and then I heard one of mine calling. We followed it to a small island, and I saw her again. She was on her daddy's ship, gathering supplies; the privateer that had rescued Grapple and myself after we had been marooned, years ago; it had been my fault, and I knew it. I hadn't done anything, though, but I couldn't prove it.

We argued, in front of everybody, we went at each other and eventually it got worse. From words, we went to striking at each other, and I slapped her across the face so hard it sent her flying back. I took the coin, and left her there on the beach with the few bits of her father's crew that remained. I even let her pa live.

The Pearl destroyed her daddy's ship so they couldn't leave. It was ironic; I left her to the fate that she had rescued me from. The rest of them, the rest of those who were cursed, didn't get why I left her alive when there lingered the possibility she could escape; I smirked, because I understood.

When it was all over…when my brother and I realized we were drowning, we were no longer immortal but dying, we eventually got off La isla de la Muerte and found ourselves on a tiny little piece of land, an island in the middle of the ocean. We were still going to die.

A ship came by, and I saw her again. We didn't fight; the desire in her to bicker with me was gone, but she still wanted me to die. Yet we just faced each other, and finally I asked her why she bothered to save me after I left her to her death, and she started screaming, yelling and swearing at me, and she was crying.

We stayed together; we're still together. I won't let her go, and she won't let me. We played that game one too many times, and I don't understand it.