A/N: I apologize for the enormously looooooooooooong period of time it has taken me to update this. I've hit a bit of a dry spell, Pirates-wise, but no worries - the fic will go on. I'm a bit dissatisfied with the two large fics right now, so once this version is complete I will probably go back and edit both of them to fill in gaps I've noticed and that sort of thing. But in the meantime, here is Chapter 12! This chapter references the events in Vivian's Tower, so I highly recommend reading that before this chapter if you haven't already. Hope you enjoy! Thank you for your patience!

CHAPTER 12

A dream had been haunting Mercer for several weeks now. In reality it was only part dream, the rest a bleak memory he had long tried to suppress. It preyed on his mind when he was alone, as he was now – resting. Planning. Waiting.

I know not where you are, Mercer Fae-Thief, but you will pay for your crimes.

He was not one to believe the threats of his enemies. Mercer had had many foes in his day and few of them had survived long enough to carry out their warnings of vengeance. He was a formidable fighter, and for the most part, he had hardened himself to his victims – to the entire world. But there were some foes that could not be beaten by any mortal hand – and Vivian, Lady of the Lake, was one of them.

You come into my city, you betray my trust, you release my enemy…

By sheer luck Mercer had survived Beckett's quest to bring back the staff of Merlin. It may have been trickery and wit that won him entrance to the Tower of Merlin, but he could not credit anything but luck to his escape. That the faerie horse had bonded with him, that the horse had been there in the first place, that Merlin had been so willing to help…

How dare you take the staff from us – and the sheath, the sheath that I created for a king far greater than you shall ever be!

He had gotten away with his life, and with Merlin's staff and Excalibur's sheath, but he hadn't escaped entirely unscathed. There had been consequences for his thievery.

I curse you…

Most of the time it wasn't hard for Mercer to forget about the curse. It had been impossible in the days directly after the journey was complete; a part of it had come to pass almost immediately after his return to London. Wasn't it right after he came home that Perthina –

He cut the thought off sharply. He did not think about her. He did not picture her. He did not even think her name.

She who you love most dearly now will perish by your hand…

The whole of the curse did not even involve… her. She was only a part in a vengeance Mercer could not imagine or comprehend. The other part – the simpler part – had not concerned him for years. It threatened love, then betrayal, then destruction, but what use was such a threat to a man who had no heart to give?

I will send for you a Fae siren whose innocence and beauty you will not be able to resist…

Mercer didn't like women much. He never had much use for them except where they could be manipulated or used to further some other cause. But then, he hated most men too, and saw little purpose in them except for the aforementioned reasons. Only one man had proved himself a master worthy of service, and that was Beckett. And Beckett did not allow for dalliances with women – or men, for that matter.

So the threat of some faerie girl floating into his life and capturing his attention was ridiculous. Or had been, until Cat.

Innocence and beauty…

It would have been easy to avoid her if Victoria had not been about. It would have been easy to hide what he felt, too, if Victoria had not been so keen an observer – if he had not been forced to spend so much time around her. And it would have been easy not to like Cat – if she hadn't been so damn earnest. If she hadn't reminded him so much of –

He stopped the thought again. The incident did not bear considering.

You will watch as you destroy her, too.

It was that last little bit that was bothering Mercer most. You will destroy her too. When the memory of the curse had come back to him – when Cat had disappeared from his life – he had thought it good to have her gone. He had thought the curse complete when she was betrothed to Lawless. No greater punishment could be his, he thought, than to watch her wed so miserable a man.

But here she was, in Bombay, with him. And the dreams had come, and they were getting more frequent.

Innocence and beauty… destroy… siren… perish by your hand…

Mercer sat in his room in total darkness, the shades drawn, the candle out. He was not sleeping, but he wanted Savage and Ancelote to think he was. They had agreed to break for a while, to rest from the intensity of planning. It was only to be an hour, but it was long enough for Mercer to think. And, contrary to what some might believe, he did a lot of thinking.

He was thinking, currently, that he needed some way to send Cat home, or at least find her some safety. The journey had been dangerous from the start, but it was about to become even worse– desert travel, firstly, was likely to kill them, and if not that then the Hand and its guardians might do the job instead. So great a treasure was certain to be well protected, and someone would probably die. Cat could not – would not – be the party member lost. Mercer was determined that it would be not be so.

The ship on which they had traveled would leave and return to England before the night was out; Cat could go back on it. Mercer could leave strict instruction that she was not to be touched, or worked, or –

No, that would be too suspicious. Without his guardianship, the sailors would treat her ill, or would reveal her sex, and terrible things would doubtless happen. She needed him to be with her, or someone else he trusted – and on this journey at least he trusted no one else.

But could he take her across the desert? Could he really keep her safe and capture the Hand for Beckett? Could he, with any certainty, do what needed to be done without feeling the guilt that came with having an innocent like Cat nearby?

You will watch as you destroy her, too.

He would evade the curse. He had to evade the curse. But doing so…

Well, he couldn't begin to fathom how he could.

It was in the midst of these dark thoughts that the door his to room burst open. Mercer glanced up as it slammed closed again, leaving him once more in darkness.

"David?" Cat's voice shook slightly. Mercer could just barely make out her outline in the dark.

"I'm here," he said, standing and heading for the candle. "I thought you were spending time with Jayant."

"I thought you were planning," she replied. "Why is it so dark?"

"I was thinking."

She sighed. "Things are so bad?"

"Getting there." He lit the candle, bringing a small spark of light to the room. "There," he said, turning back to her. "Better now?"

"Much." Cat stood by the door, hugging herself uncertainly.

He arched a brow. The girl looked shaken; her face was pale and she was staring into the shadowy corners of the room as though something was waiting there to attack her. "Being chased down by a monster, are you?" he asked dryly.

She shook her head mutely, turning towards him with a strangely distant look. "No, no monsters," she murmured distractedly. "You'll find no such creatures here."

"On the contrary, you'll find plenty of them – myself included," he half-joked. She didn't laugh. He sighed and growled, "It was meant to be amusing, Catie. Can't you smile for me?"

She didn't. "Winslow just proposed to me," she blurted out, then winced as soon as the words had left her mouth.

Mercer's eyes narrowed abruptly. "What?"

She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know where it came from," she said, looking genuinely bewildered. "I can't begin to fathom what he was thinking -!"

"I can," Mercer growled, fists clenching at his sides.

Cat ignored him. "I suppose having me about has been good for business, and I suppose it is lonely here when you're all by yourself like he is," she said thoughtfully. "But he knows I'm with you. He even said so."

"Clearly that didn't stop him," Mercer said bitterly. "I think Winslow and I will need to have a bit of a talk."

Cat still didn't appear to be listening. She moved across the floor to sit at the small table in the barren corner of the room. "He said he could give me a better life," she said dejectedly. "That staying with him would be safer than moving on with you."

Mercer froze, looking at her with a suddenly troubled gaze. You will watch as you destroy her… "Said that, did he?" he murmured. "He's right, of course."

"I know," Cat said, shrugging slightly. "But it's not important. Not to me, at least."

Mercer muttered, "It should be."

Cat continued not to look at him. "He just doesn't understand," she said angrily. "He doesn't know everything we've been through…"

"It wouldn't change anything – he'd still be right," Mercer said.

Finally she did look at him, worry in her eyes. "It doesn't matter," she insisted.

"Doesn't it?" Mercer snapped. "Look at you! You're trapped in some God-forsaken heathen country with no home to return to and no life or riches to call your own. You can't even go by your own name for fear of being called out by your host. And every day you risk death or worse!" He turned his back to her, unable to stare at her any longer. "Maybe you should stay here," he said slowly. "Stay with Winslow. He could take care of you, give you a decent life."

"What?!" Cat exclaimed, a horrified expression crossing her face. "No! I won't!"

"You'd be stupid not to," Mercer said flatly. "He's a good man."

"So are you."

Mercer cast her an incredulous glance over his shoulder. "I assure you, Cat, I'm not," he said. "I'm the closest you'll ever come to seeing the Devil."

"You rescued Jayant," Cat said stubbornly.

"I wouldn't have if you hadn't wanted it."

"You're taking care of me," Cat said, sounding desperate.

"Not out of the goodness of my heart."

"Why else would you be doing this?" Cat demanded.

"Because I have no choice," Mercer snapped. "Because you came onboard the ship and I couldn't bring you back."

"What else was I to do?" Cat cried.

"You could have stayed in London," Mercer said. "Tori would have taken care of you."

"I didn't give up everything I could have inherited for Tori," Cat said heatedly. "I did it for you."

"You should have chosen someone worthier," Mercer said bitterly.

She hesitated, and silence hung between them. Then she leapt from her chair and ran across the room to embrace him. "I don't think you unworthy," she said.

"You don't know much about me," he said dejectedly.

"I know about Perthina," Cat said. "I know about all the things you do for Beckett. Tori's told me all that, and I'm still here."

"You're a damn fool, then."

Cat looked up at him, wounded. "I'm not stupid, Mercer."

He tried not to wince at her use of his surname. "Maybe not stupid, but certainly naive." He paused, disentangled himself from her, and turned away again. "When you stopped visiting," he said softly, "I thought it was over. And I was content with that. I knew it would end that way – that you would marry some wealthy man and have his children and I would continue working for Beckett as I always have. But you came back, and selfishly I kept you." He growled in frustration. "I was an idiot to bring you here."
Cat drew back, hurt. "Do you wish I'd stayed in London and married Lawless?"

Mercer's hand clenched into a fist. "Not Lawless," he snarled. "Never Lawless." He sighed. "But someone else. Someone rich."

"You don't mean that," Cat whispered.

"I assure you, I do," Mercer said, facing her once more. "I have wished that ever since I learned what I did to you."

Cat blinked. "The baby?" she asked.

He nodded shortly.

She shook her head. "That wasn't – it wasn't bad," she protested. "If he had lived – !"

"It wouldn't have mattered," Mercer said wearily. "You would have been forced to leave him with some poor family in London's streets, and neither of us would ever have seen him again."

Cat trembled. "Do you want me to stay with Winslow?" she asked, lifting her chin defiantly. "Do you really want me to accept him?"

There was a pause, a complete, dark silence that hung between them for what seemed like hours. Cat stood, hands clenched at her sides, praying for the answer she wished to hear. Mercer stood alone in the middle of the room, his face blank as stone. But behind the cold expression, he was thinking. He was seeing Cat, and he was remembering a time before her, and a fate she did not deserve…

Finally, he said, "Yes."

Cat gasped and swirled unsteadily on her feet, as though she might collapse. "No!" she cried.

"I can't take care of you properly," Mercer said darkly. "I can't protect you like Winslow can. I can't shield you from the dangers of this world. Hell, I am the dangers of this world – every last one of them. Here you'd be safe and loved. You'd lead a good if relatively ordinary life. You'll never have that with me."

"Maybe I don't want that," Cat said furiously.

"You do," Mercer said. "I know you do."

She stood before him, trembling, face pale. Mercer wished for several long moments that he could harden himself to her as he did everyone else, but since the moment he'd met her that had proved an impossible task. Still, he stared her down, willing her to change her mind – willing her to stay.

"I'm not accepting him," she said at last. "I already said no."

"You can probably still change your mind," Mercer replied. "I don't think he'll hold any hard feelings against you if you do it soon."

"No," Cat said, setting her jaw.

Mercer stared at her, his expression hard and flat. "That's your folly then," he said. "But if Winslow's offering you a safe haven, I'm not taking you with me tomorrow."

"What?" Cat gasped.

Mercer looked away and didn't say anything. It was the only thing he could think to do – the only way he could be certain that she would be safe.

"You can't," Cat said, aghast. "David, you can't – !"

"I don't have a choice," Mercer growled.

"Of course you do," Cat exclaimed. "You're the leader of this group! And you can't pretend I don't mean something to you – I know that's all a lie! Why would you leave me? What could make you think that would be wise? Why would – ?"

"I don't want you to die!"

The exclamation came so suddenly, so loudly, that Cat jumped back and Mercer succeeded in startling himself. He hadn't meant to say it, but some part of him had known he had to explain himself. Perhaps if she knew…

"It's been predicted," he said hoarsely. "If we stay together, Catie, you will be destroyed. And it will be my fault."

Cat started towards him again. "I don't believe that," she said quietly.

"I do," Mercer said flatly, stepping back from her before she could touch him.

He stood several moments longer, arms crossed over his chest. Then, slowly, he said, "You should go downstairs, talk to Winslow. The others and I have a lot of planning to do."

Cat stared at him, blinking rapidly. "If that's what you want," she whispered.

It wasn't what he wanted, but he didn't have much choice. "It's what I want," he said.

He waited. Cat didn't leave at once, but stared at him a few moments longer. When he didn't speak, she ran past him and threw herself out the door, letting it slam behind her.

Mercer winced as the door banged closed, but inwardly felt a little relief.

She is safe. And Vivian's vengeance will no longer be my concern.

She will live. Even if I do not.

*

Fortunately, though the Wind and Sail seemed to be doing a brisk trade, hardly anybody paid attention to Cat as she hurtled down the stairs and made for a dark, empty corner. Winslow also seemed to be absent, but Cat wasn't bothered. She assumed he'd gone out to the market to purchase some of the necessary supplies for the tavern. And at any rate, Winslow was the last person she wanted to see.

She sank gratefully into a chair in the furthest corner of the room and pulled her knees up to her chest. As Mercer had commanded, she still wore a suit, and for once she was grateful for the unfeminine clothing. It certainly allowed for more mobility, and mobility was what she needed now.

She hugged herself miserably and wished she hadn't been stupid enough to mention Winslow's proposal to Mercer. She probably wouldn't have said anything about it if she hadn't still been in shock. It had seemed so odd, so unreasonable, so unfathomably illogical.

But if that had seemed ridiculous, Mercer's reaction to it was by far more so. Leave her here? After all they'd already gone through? After all he'd done for her, and she for him? How could he even think it acceptable?

It's been predicted, he had said. If you stay with me you will be destroyed.

But who would say such a thing? And why would so logical a man as Mercer believe them?

It was too much. Cat hid her face in her knees and cried.

She stayed there for the better part of two hours, huddled in the corner, unseen and uncomforted. It was as if no one recognized her when she was sad – she was expected always to be a happy little sprite, smiling and laughing and sprinkling bits of her happiness amongst the customers. But the favor, it seemed, would not be returned to her when she felt depressed.

She finally felt a small tap on her shoulder. She looked up, hoping to see Mercer – but instead she found herself looking up into the face of a weather-beaten sailor. She sniffed and wiped her eyes hurriedly. "Hello, sir," she said politely.

"'Allo, miss," the sailor said, grinning toothily at her. "Are ye Seraph Welborne?"

Cat nodded.

"We been lookin' for yeh," the sailor said, holding out a hand to her. "Ancelote Bussiere needs yer help at the docks."

Cat took his hand and let him help her out of her seat. "Why at the docks?" she asked, frowning in perplexity. "Isn't she upstairs with Mercer and the others?"

"Nah; she left an hour ago to prepare," the man said. "She needs yeh to come with us."

Cat noticed then that there were several other men standing behind him, burly and rough in appearance. She also noticed that the first man had not let go of her arm yet – his large fingers were still wrapped firmly around her wrist. "How do you know Ancelote?" she asked, eyes narrowing.

"We're contacts of hers," one of the other sailors explained. "She uses us to bring and receive messages. We're… errand boys."

Cat hesitated, uncertain. "I think I should perhaps wait until Mercer – "

"Mercer knows," they assured her, all three at once.

"He wants ye to help," the first sailor insisted. "It's an… er… amends. Yes. Amends."

Cat blinked. "For…?"

"Fer… not allowin' ye out so much, and the like," the sailor said. "Please, miss, time's wastin'."

He tugged hard on her arm, and she stumbled forward. Two of the men fell in behind her and pushed her towards the door, while another came to her opposite side. She was effectively surrounded – and she knew now, without question, that something was very wrong.

She turned to look over her shoulder, searching for a means of escape, and saw Savage descending the stairs, looking bleary-eyed and half-drunk. She tried to yank her arm from the grip of the first sailor, but he wouldn't let her go. "Savage!" she shouted over the hustle of the tavern. "SAVAGE! RALSTON SAVAGE!"

He blinked, paused on the stairs, and began to look around, but he didn't seem to see her.

"SAV-!" She started to scream again, but she was clubbed roughly on the head, and the world fell into darkness and silence.

*

Savage had been drinking in his spare hour – probably a good deal more than he should have, though he held his drink relatively well. He had continued drinking while Mercer and Ancelote plotted and planned the assault for the night, and had kept on drinking even when Mercer had threatened to break one of the bottles over his head.

He was, at the moment, looking for the privy. All that drink ran through him fast, and he was in need of good, long piss.

It was in this most inconvenient of times that he witnessed Cat being kidnapped.

It took him a moment, squinting as he was from the stairs, to even register what was happening. He heard Cat shout, and he had to look around a good deal before he spotted her; and by the time his eyes finally alighted on her, she was getting smacked over the head with the butt of a pistol and fainting flat between four very large men.

Savage stood. He stared. He gawped at the men a bit longer. Then, finally, he raised one finger, swirled unsteadily on his feet, and shouted, "Oi!"

But, he soon realized, they were already gone.

He turned, nearly smacking into another patron, and stumbled his way back up the stairs, bottle in hand. "Mercer!" he shouted as he fumbled through the hall. "Calling David Mercer!"

Mercer threw open his door and stepped out into the corridor, pistol in hand. "If you want to live, Ralston Savage, you will shut up right now," he growled, cocking the pistol and lifting it so that it was level with Savage's forehead.

"No need for that," Savage slurred. "There's some trouble down below."

Mercer's brows knitted into a dark frown. "What sort of trouble?" he asked.

"'S your lady," Savage said, grinning lopsidedly. "Jus' got kidnapped, methinks."

Mercer let the pistol drop. "What?"

Savage giggled. "Carried out by some big men," he said. "I shouted, but they were gone."

Mercer was glaring at him, but Savage hardly cared. This was some hardy drink they'd given him. "And you let them go?" Mercer exclaimed, infuriated.

"Well," Savage said, frowning. "Well… well…" He turned and started back down the hall.

"Where the hell are you going?" Mercer shouted after him.

"Hafta piss!" Savage yelled over his shoulder.

"Useless," Mercer snarled. "You are completely bloody useless! ANCELOTE!"

Savage noticed, about ten seconds after it happened, that Mercer and Ancelote had both run past him. He caught up to them at the edge of the corridor, where it opened into the stairs and circled down to the common room. "You stopped," he observed, surprised. "You not chasin' the lady?"

"We would," Ancelote said tightly, "Only we're in a bit of a fix."

"Fix?" Savage blinked. "What sorta fix?"

"A very badfix," Ancelote said grimly.

"Just 'cause Cat got stolen?" Savage asked.

"No, there's worse things than that at hand," Ancelote said.

"I'm not certain that worse is the proper term," Mercer interrupted, steel in his voice.

"Well, you wouldn't think so, would you?" Ancelote retorted. "On the list of things that worry you, death comes second to losing that stupid little girl."

"She's not stupid," Mercer snarled. "You're the one who nearly waltzed into a common room full of pirates without even noticing them!"

Savage's inebriated mind took several seconds to process what Mercer had said. But by the time his mouth managed to form the word, "What?!", the conversation had already moved on.

"At least I managed to remedy my mistake," Ancelote was saying, irked. "You just let the girl wander off by herself! Why weren't you watching her? You know she can't be left alone in a place like this!"

"We had a bit of a falling out," Mercer muttered, glancing around the wall to the crowd in the tavern below, and shrinking back again.

"A falling out?" Ancelote repeated, surprised. "But –?"

"Bloody hell, Bussiere, the entire crew of the Redemption is down there and all you can think to ask me is 'Wait, you and Cat are fighting?'" Mercer snapped. "Now is not the time!"

"Did you say pirates?" Savage finally managed.

They both looked at him, as though surprised that he was still conscious enough to participate in the conversation. "Yes," Ancelote said.

"Where?" Savage asked, reaching for a knife – only to find it gone. Left in his room, most likely…

Ancelote glared at him in exasperation. "You see all those men down there?" she said, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him around to peer at the customers below.

He nodded slowly. "See 'em," he said.

Ancelote jerked him roughly back into the hall. "Almost all of them are from Burton's crew," she hissed. "And every last one of those is armed to the teeth."

Savage frowned. "But what're they doing here?" he asked, bewildered.

"They obviously discovered our plan," Mercer spat, "And are here to sabotage it, before we can sabotage them."

Savage considered this for a moment. "The Company's soldiers – "

"Are currently out at the docks loading the ship," Mercer said.

"Ifthe ship hasn't been ransacked and burned," Ancelote put in. "I'm sure they've discovered where we docked. They surely would want to plunder and cripple us all at once, in case we escaped."

"Escaped?" Mercer repeated. "How the hell are we supposed to escape from an entire common room full of pirates?"

Savage reached up to stroke the rough stubbly beard growing on his chin. "Well," he said, raising a thoughtful finger towards the sky. "We could always sneak down in different clothes and hope they don't recognize us."

Ancelote stared at him, and then at Mercer, then back at Savage, and back to Mercer once more. "So we're dead," she said resignedly.

Mercer snarled in the back of his throat. "Yes," he agreed. "Very, very dead."