The misty morning gradually cleared as Harry and Uma were there, sitting on the deck of the ship. They hadn't spoken in a while, but Harry felt the silence was comfortable somehow. As if this were something habitual: also enjoying just the company of the other, without the need for words.

She was still leaning against him and Harry, far from feeling uncomfortable or sore from being in that position for so long, drew her closer to himself. As he had expected, Uma tensed for a second before allowing her body to move. Now she was almost completely embraced by Harry, the points where their bodies touched, almost on fire. Uma inhaled his scent and allowed herself to smile. Then she punched him hard. She was small and thin, but Harry found that she had the strength to make his entire arm ache. When Harry looked at her, Uma had a slightly wild and mischievous expression in her gaze. Big brown eyes, looking at him as if they wanted to take his whole being.

"That's for trying to jump off the ship," Uma told him, and although Harry noticed her scolding tone, he also felt the genuine concern. "Never do it again, Harry. Nothing will happen to me, but you can end up hurt".

Harry, however, frowned.

"I thought I was dead".

Uma sighed.

"You are. it's a little hard to explain. The crew of my ship are not entirely dead".

He raised an eyebrow.

"So… I'm dead, but not dead. Could you explain it better?"

Uma stared at him silently for a moment and Harry wondered if she was doing it on purpose, dominate him with her gaze. Or if it was just that Harry had never been able to resist the sea. Uma stood up, releasing herself from the embrace, and cold filled Harry's skin as if it were made of fire. He burned with the need to touch her.

"Look, Harry. You are not here by chance. You couldn't pronounce my name, could you? You knew it, but until you saw me, you couldn't say it", Uma was silent, waiting for him to think a bit about her words. It was true. Gil had said that the castaways must speak Uma's name to be rescued. And although Harry had known it, not just one but almost all the names she had, he couldn't say it. It was as if something was holding his tongue tightly, as if someone was ripping his voice. Only until she introduced herself to him was it possible for Harry to name her.

"If I didn't call you, why did you save me?" He asked.

Uma walked to the rudder, adjusted course, and then turned to Harry again. Her expression seemed a bit tortured now, as if what she was going to say wasn't something pleasant at all.

"Harry, you and I have known each other in many other lives. We have always been captain and first mate. That's why I knew you were going to get to me," Uma began, shaking some of her braids back her shoulder. "In one of those lives, we live on an isle, locked up foreve because the crimes our parents committed. Your father, my mother... so, one day, I managed to escape, and I decided to seek revenge and our freedom. I tried to fight against them, against those who had locked us up there, and in the end, they caught me".

Her voice became harsh, impregnated with something that Harry couldn't define in the first place, but that bothered him, as if he wanted that feeling never to touch her, as if it was absolutely wrong.

"They decided that my punishment would be this: in all lives, it would always be very difficult for you and me to find each other. I couldn't touch you while you were alive, and you couldn't pronounce my name. It was a way of punishing you too, for supporting me".

Take away a captain's first mate. Stripping her of all, of her birthright. Make Uma be reduced to being the one in charge of picking up dying people at sea. The feeling that Harry had not been able to define moments before... Uma felt, in a way, humiliated, because that was what those who punished her had wanted. Stripping her, humiliate her. As if they could have a claim on a goddess.

The most terrible anger Harry had ever felt boiled up inside him, swift as waves and furious as a tempest. And when he realized it, he had wedged half his hook into the wood of the deck, his teeth clenched in frustration.

He unhooked it and got up to go to Uma. He knelt in front of her and Uma sighed, pleased.

"They are not even worthy of you," he breathed. And he took her hand in his. Uma didn't pull him away, she slid her fingers into his palm, tightening the hold. Harry felt that he should kiss her, revere her in some way, quell the need that almost vibrated in her mouth, eager to know how Uma's skin tasted. A little scared that he couldn't control himself and do something that would upset her, he released from the hold and rose, his heart pounding, all the blood in his body boiling.

"No, they aren´t," answered Uma, calm, calculating. Her beauty was not exactly like that of princesses and ladies, it was not purity or virtue or delicacy, but rather the evil in her eyes, her whirlwind laugh, the way she gave of herself to those who she decided to give her loyalty. "But you are, always have been".

A weight rose from Harry's heart, making him feel lighter. Yet for a second, he tried to hold back his storm, not get closer, not out of fear of rejection, but because she hadn't asked. Then, Uma rolled her eyes impatiently, snorted and just pulled him towards her. In one swift movement, she tangled her fingers in Harry's hair and sought his lips with hers, trapping them in a warm, wet kiss that made every inch of skin on his body burn. Harry simply disconnected from the world in that moment, unable to think beyond Uma's presence, the taste of Uma, her firm, demanding hands, caressing him, touching him. Inviting.

Harry abandoned himself to her. He let every part of him be at her mercy, ready to follow her will, and at the same time he tried to show her that he wanted to give to her, not just receive, but give her something, a part of himself, or maybe everything...

He sucked on her lower lip and heard her moan, an almost imperceptible sound, but it was enough to make Harry proud. He didn't know how long they spent like this, trying to draw sounds from each other, fighting for control of the kiss, although Harry knew, always, that he was going to surrender to her. Uma liked the challenge, Harry realized. She dominated the tempest, or the tempest submitted to her. Maybe both.

And they wouldn't have stopped if a voice hadn't interrupted them. Desiree was walking up the stairs to the upper deck, calling for Uma.

"Oh… oh! Nothing, it's nothing. I'm sorry", she said when she saw them, entangled in each other, and stomped back down. But the sun was already starting to rise, moving across the sky, and the ship would soon be full of voices and music and laughter, so they parted, and Uma slid her hand down Harry's arm. She hooked her little finger on the hook, and began to walk toward the lower deck, giving him an eloquent look.

Harry stood there for a moment, almost out of breath, and then he grinned wickedly and followed her.