Disclaimer: Brawk! Don't sue me! Don't sue me!
A/N: A slightly shorter chapter this time… And a rather fashion-conscious Squirrel, too. This is basically a skippable chapter, if you think about it… but it's full of little details I just had to put in. Read at your own peril.
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The sea had always calmed her. She didn't know why, but the sight of it was soothing. Perhaps it was the simple size of it, how it stretched to the ends of the Earth. Perhaps because it was in deep shades of blue, a comforting colour. Perhaps it was because, in line with the sky, it reminded Squirrel of how small she was, and how lucky she was to have what she did. Perhaps because it was a sign of her freedom, the freedom she'd wished for and finally gained.
Squirrel looked out at the sea today, and did not feel calmed. She kept her eyes down, away from the horizon, focusing instead on the wash from the side of the ship. The sea broiled and hissed with white foam as the Pearl's timbers raked it. Squirrel watched the constant stream of white - that angry, frothing mass - and tried to empty her mind of all thoughts. But her stomach and her mind were just as turbulent as the ship's wake.
Will… Norrington… Mother, father… Elizabeth… Tia Dalma… Dawn… Davy Jones… Jack Sparrow… Names and thoughts and events all pushed and shoved, jostling each other in order to try to gain her attention. As a result, Squirrel didn't know what to think, what to dwell on. She just stared down at the foam.
"Arrgh!"
Squirrel lifted her head and looked along the rails. Three of the new deckhands had been hauling water from the sea to be used in cleaning the deck. They stood in a huddle, their backs to Squirrel, cursing and swearing at something.
Glad of something to distract her, Squirrel left the rails and moved towards the swabs. "What's going on here?" She asked, putting all the authority she could muster into her voice. The three new crewmen looked over; resentful, leering, unimpressed.
"Blasted thing won't let go," one of them said, holding a mop out to Squirrel, handle first. She recoiled slightly, expecting a blow, recovered when the realised it was foolish, then leant forward to examine what the swabs had been so afraid of.
A strange creature had been drawn up from the sea along with water, and had not welcomed its capture. It had leapt up, swarming around the mop's handle, hugging its mouth to the wood. Its appearance had no doubt been responsible for the shout of alarm. Squirrel would have yelped as well, though not from alarm or fear - that strange sea creature reminded her of one of the names that had been circling in her thoughts. Davy Jones… She kept the thought to herself, kept it off her face.
"It's just a squid," She said, looking at the deckhands curiously. "What's wrong?"
"I need the mop, don't I?" One of the crewmen said snarkily, as though he'd expected a woman to be so dense about the importance of one's duties. "And the blasted thing won't let go."
With an irritated sigh, Squirrel grabbed the mop from him, and reached for the writhing mass of tentacles. The squid saw her hand coming towards it, and hugged closer to the pole. Some of its tentacles lashed out, grabbing flesh and tearing away. Squirrel bit her lip to keep from crying out - that hurt! She remembered how Gibbs had said the Kraken had the power to suction a man's face clean off. This squid clearly had that kind of aspirations for when it got older.
"Having trouble, missy?" One of the men sneered. Squirrel gave him a scathing look. Then, steeling herself, she grabbed a hold of the squid's tube-like body with one hand, and pulled. The squid just held on tighter to the mop handle, its tentacles flailing. Irritated now, Squirrel twisted at the thing, wrenching it free. Was it her imagination, or did it cry out? It must have been her imagination - the squid had a much stronger response. A thick jet of black slime spurted through the air, hitting Squirrel right in the face.
The swabs brayed with laughter, and other men watching joined in. Even men who didn't know what events had transpired laughed at the woman holding a writhing squid, her face and clothes splattered in ink. Squirrel felt herself go hotly red. Brilliant, the voice mocked her. Absolutely brilliant. Angry, she crushed the squid in her fist before throwing it overboard. It would live, but it would be very sore. Serves it right.
"Well done, missy," the first deckhand sniggered. "You fought a creature of the deep and came off unscathed. Almost, anyway." He hawed again with laughter, and his mates joined in.
"Well," Squirrel said calmly, "It's not like you men could have done any better." She wiped the ink from her face. "Back to your duties." She walked off with as much dignity as she could muster, but was flushing bright red.
She did not check herself until she was below, and back in the curtained area where her bunk was. The mirror on the wall showed her a blackened face, like a velvet mask which covered the right side of her face. Her cloak had been stained, but it was a minor stain, one which could be easily washed out. Her blouse and vest, however… Ruined. But they were already old, so it was no surprise that this was the last straw.
Her sea chest contained only one other shirt: a short sleeved shirt, blue as the ocean itself. In days with naught to do, Squirrel taken to it with needle and thread, embroidering it with patterns of flowers and waves and other interesting shapes. The white thread against the deep blue of the cloth was very striking, and the shirt itself was of beautiful quality. But she'd never worn it, because the short sleeves meant that the burns on her arms would be exposed. She'd always worn blouses with sleeves that covered her arms.
But why? She wondered, raising an eyebrow at her reflection. Why should I be ashamed of them? I shouldn't be - its part of who I am. With that galvanising thought, she turned from the mirror, and went to fetch her sea chest. The shirt was just where she'd left it, and she smiled as she pulled it out. Unrolling the shirt, a small cloth bundle tumbled out from the folds and landed at Squirrel's feet. Curious, Squirrel picked it up. It was the present from Anamaria. Her goodbye present. Squirrel smiled, and allowed her mind to drift back to the memory of their parting.
Ana crossed the deck, her belongings all in a canvas bag hanging from her shoulder. Squirrel - once again on duty for the night - walked with her friend, head down, not knowing what to say.
"I've been meaning to do this for quite some time," Ana said, as soft as the night around them. "Earn myself enough money to get that boat of mine back…Well, I've done it, and here I go." She sighed, looked around at the Pearl and up at the stars. "I won't say I won't miss this, though."
Squirrel nodded, though sadly. "Good luck, wherever the wind takes you."
Ana gave Squirrel a quick hug. "Don't worry about me, girl." She looked knowingly at Squirrel for a moment, then added, "You're the only woman on the Pearl now… You take care of yourself, you hear me?"
Squirrel laughed, though tears stung her eyes. "I will. Don't w-worry."
"And don't let Jack hurt you, either." Ana's eyes turned unusually stony.
Squirrel was surprised. "He wouldn't hurt me."
Ana sighed, nodding; unconvinced. "Course he wouldn't. Just…" She seemed to search for the right thing to say. Eventually, she sighed and said, "Just be careful. Sometimes things aren't always like you want them to be."
Squirrel tilted her head, not understanding. Ana sighed, waved it off, made to cross the gangplank. But something held her back. She pulled a small package from out of her tunic and threw it to Squirrel.
"Here," Ana said, "Maybe these'll come in handy someday."
Squirrel unwrapped the cloth package with nimble fingers, then looked up at Ana, tears threatening to spill out of her eyes. "Ana… Thankyou."
Ana nodded, and waved. "Adieu, Squ'rl-girl." She stepped off the Pearl. Squirrel watched as her friend was swallowed up by the night, then stared at the two silver earrings Anamaria had left her.
Squirrel stared at the silver hoops. They were beautiful - simple, but beautiful. Squirrel had never worn them… how could she? Her ears weren't pierced. Regretfully, Squirrel made to put the earrings back in the chest, but something stopped her. Why shouldn't I get my ears pierced? Ana gave me these - I should wear them. Besides… they're too beautiful to leave at the bottom of a box.
And Jack might notice them, too.
With a pink-faced smile, Squirrel tucked the cloth bundle into her belt, then gathered together a few more things from her sea chest: a small lacquered mirror, a stoppered bottle, a chunk of pumice, and a washcloth. She needed a decent bath - the squid gave her an excuse to have one today.
Months ago, when Squirrel had first arrived on the Pearl, she'd found a small room in the timbers of the ship, small and well-hidden. A strange warp in the timbers meant that rainwater from the deck was channelled down into it. Squirrel had slid an empty barrel inside to catch the water, which she used in her ablutions. The room and its tiny size gave her privacy and a sense of security. It was as though this room was made for her.
She headed there now, walking carefully through the hold until she came to it. The door was hidden - it didn't even look like a door. Squirrel found the loose plank and gently pulled, and then slipped inside, shutting the door behind her.
Fumbling in the darkness, she found the shelf where the candles she'd brought with her from Tortuga stood, along with the flint. After a few tries, she managed to light the candles, and soon the room was bathed in a warm yellow glow. The barrel in the corner was full, and the water was fresh; it had rained only last night.
The night Will was taken by Davy Jones…
Squirrel set down her things and slowly peeled off her clothing. Her cloak first, then her vest and blouse; her boots, belt, and all the attached paraphernalia; her breeches, socks and stockings; the light tunics she wore as undergarments. Squirrel huffed a little in irritation as she peeled off the various layers of clothing. Sure, the light tunics were good for hygiene and protection from men who thought with organs other than their brains, but aboard the Pearl, did she really need to wear so much? The crew respected her, and were her friends. She was in no danger. Also, in the Caribbean sun, she wilted quickly, simply due to the layers of clothes she wore. No wonder she was so pale - she couldn't stand the heat. She wanted a bit more colour to her, like that healthy brown glow Elizabeth had.
Maybe I should wear a bit less, Squirrel thought, tossing the last of her tunics to the floor. As she did so, she caught sight of something strange on her right arm.
Dawn had left her mark on Squirrel. Jealousy and malice had been responsible for those burns on Squirrel's arm. You think you're better than me? Dawn had pressed Squirrel into that hot iron plate relentlessly, laughing all the while. Strange patterns bloomed from where the cloth of Squirrel's shirt had been scorched into her skin; the skin was now a different colour where the burns ended. Dawn had marked her cousin, scarred her for life.
But something had changed. There was a new pattern in the burns.
Squirrel stared, unbelieving, but there was no denying it. There was a handprint on her arm, a clear space of new, clean skin in the midst of the old burns. When had this happened? And how?
Jack.
Squirrel blinked, remembering. He'd grabbed her arm and held on to her, made her read his compass. The sleeve of her blouse had stuck to her skin because Jack had shaken hands with Davy Jones. It was his handprint on her arm. Squirrel shook her head, disbelieving, but couldn't take her eyes from the shape of Jack's hand - his fingers, his thumb, his palm. All those salves and oils she'd used on her burns, trying to calm them and stop them from hurting… And Jack's touch had simply healed them.
Ah, a voice insinuated, But was it really thanks to Jack Sparrow? Or should you be thanking Davy Jones?
Squirrel lowered her arm, not knowing what to think. Shrugging and storing the thought away for later, she moved to the barrel of water and began her ablutions. She splashed herself with water from the barrel, sanded at her legs and underarms with the pumice, and cleaned all that ink off of her face, checking it was all gone in the small mirror. When she was done, she re-dressed herself. This time, she didn't wear any tunics, just her breast bindings, the vest, and the blue shirt; she left the socks aside, and just wore the stockings under the boots. She felt lighter, and cooler too. Before leaving, she uncorked the stoppered bottle, and thumbed a few drops around her neck: lavender oil. She liked the smell of lavender, and she wore it when she could. Smiling, Squirrel gathered up her belongings in her cloak and slipped out.
The cloth bundle at her belt reminded her about her earrings. She'd almost forgotten about them. After dropping her surplus belongings in her sea chest, Squirrel went to the galley, looking for Gibbs.
It was as though she hadn't left the night before - all of her 'family' was still there. Pintel and Ragetti were frowning over the Bible, Ragetti mouthing words as Pintel read; Cotton was paring his nails, his feet up on the table; Marty was patching a tear in his shirt, and Gibbs was stirring a cauldron of what Gibbs called 'bubbling mass'. Squirrel paused at the doorway, awkward and shy. She surreptitiously draped her cloak over her burned arm, out of habit; but she had a new reason for not wanting people to see her arm now.
Cotton's parrot greeted her with its customary demand: "Pieces of eight!" Heads turned to her, and welcoming smiles appeared on every face.
"You're just in time, lass," Gibbs said, holding out the wooden spoon. "Tell me what you think." Squirrel tasted the stew dutifully, and nodded in appreciation. His cooking had improved greatly. Gibbs grinned, then set the spoon aside. "So, what brings you down here, Miss Grey?"
Squirrel took a breath, readying herself. "I want you to p-pierce my ears."
Gibbs raised a surprised eyebrow. "Why would that be, Miss?"
Squirrel procured the earrings, unwrapping them for inspection. "Ana gave these to me, before she left…" She shrugged, pulling forth a suitable excuse; something other than 'because I think they'll make me pretty and Jack would notice'. "I don't want them to get stolen."
Gibbs nodded sagely. "Fair enough." He brushed the hoops with a finger. "These are fine silver, Miss Grey. They'll look lovely on you." Squirrel blushed and ducked her head with a smile.
"'Ere," Marty said, stopping his sewing and handing the needle to Gibbs, "Take a seat, Miss. It might 'urt a bit."
Squirrel nodded, gritting her teeth. "I know." She sat down carefully, watching as Gibbs ran the needle through the flame of a candle.
"Best chew on this," Marty handed her a length of leather, folded and twisted. "You don't want to bite off your tongue." Squirrel gratefully took the leather and bit down on it.
"This will hurt," Gibbs said apologetically, brushing back Squirrel's hair and taking hold of her right ear. "Ready?"
Before Squirrel could nod, the red-hot needle pierced her earlobe and slid through with a slight hiss and the smell of cauterised flesh. She gave a muffled yelp, tears springing to her eyes. For a moment, she remembered the way she'd been pressed against the hot iron in the tavern kitchen, and expected to see Dawn laughing in the corner.
"Alright?" Gibbs asked, looking at her with some concern. "You ready for the next ear?"
Squirrel whimpered, but nodded. Gibbs slowly drew the needle out, then stood and moved to the flame again. When the needle was red-hot once again, Gibbs returned, and sat to her left. Squirrel screwed her eyes shut and gave another cry as it pierced her other earlobe.
"There," Gibbs said, pulling the needle free. "Done!" He picked the earrings off the cloth and carefully inserted them into Squirrel's ears. "Best keep 'em in place for a few weeks," he said, "In case the hole closes over."
Squirrel took the piece of leather out of her mouth and wiped away her tears. "Aye. Thankyou." Gibbs nodded, glad to be of service.
"You know," Marty said, taking the needle back from Gibbs, "The silver of those earrings and the amulet looks good together with that new shirt, Miss Grey." He grinned a little impishly, and added, "And, if it's not too bold, you've never looked more a woman, either."
Squirrel flushed at the compliment, but smiled back at her friend. She looked down, where her amulet rested between her collarbones and the open collar of her shirt. The silver and blue did go well together. And the shirt did make her have more of a womanly figure, too.
"You should leave your hair out like that," Pintel offered, nonchalantly letting his eyes brush over her. "Looks better than when it's tied up."
Squirrel reached back and touched her hair. She hadn't realised it was undone. The leather tie must have slipped off. She nodded her (dubious) thanks to Pintel, before rising to her feet. She stood behind Gibbs, and looked at the content of the cooking pot. The stew looked and smelled nearly ready.
"Hungry, Miss Grey?" Gibbs grinned.
Squirrel smiled to herself. "I am, actually."
Gibbs ladled a healthy - and generous - portion onto a plate. "Well, I've a duty for you first." He handed her the plate, "Take this to the captain, will you?" Seeing the look on Squirrel's face, Gibbs shrugged. "Captain's got to eat first, Miss Grey. You know the rules."
Squirrel sighed, then gingerly accepted the plate. "Alright." She slid the cloak off her arm and handed it to Gibbs with an impish smile. "But I leave this as a security, to make sure I get something to eat when I come back."
The crew laughed at her joke, and Squirrel smiled and blushed. She turned and waved farewell over her shoulder.
"Don't worry," she said, leaving the galley with a grin, "I won't be long!"
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A/N: Famous last words, maybe:D Heheh. Jack and Squirrel's alone time is in the next chappie. Reviews make me do a happy dance.