"Oh no,/ here it is again/ I need to know/ why did I choose to betray you/ Something wrong/ with all the plans of my life/ I didn't realize that you've been here/ Dolefully desired/ Destiny of a lie/ Set me free/ your heaven's a lie/ set me free with your love/ set me free."

Lacuna Coil; Heaven's A Lie

Demon Called Deception

Chapter Eight: Reflections

Tristan sat in the darkness, his chin resting on his clasped hands. His eyes watched Emory as she slept, her chest rising and falling slowly. Her skin glowed in the pale moonlight that floated in through the window. His gaze traced over her naked body, the sheets hovering at her hips.

The first mark on her that caught his eye was the scar on her left side, the scar that he had put there. Perhaps, somewhere deep in his subconscious, he knew that it hadn't been a killing blow. And, despite his orders, he knew he never would have been able to kill her. Perhaps it was because he had finally found his equal, both in fighting and in craftiness. Perhaps it was because she had proven to be a valuable part in his plans, making him work to find her strengths and weaknesses.

But, no, he knew the reason. It had been because he had seen something in her, something that he had never been the recipient of before. A longing had echoed in her eyes, a caring that had been hidden far beneath her cold exterior, and he had felt that he could not take that away.

Tristan reached out slowly, his fingers tracing over the scar softly. It was something he had given her, something that he could never take her back. He drew his hand back slowly, brushing his fingertips along her cool skin until he touched a small tattoo of a crow, its wings spread out wide. He remembered that. He remembered when he had given it to her. A symbol of his love, he had told her. A symbol that would connect her to him always, as he would be to her through his own crow tattooed on his chest.

His eyes narrowed slightly as his fingers traced over three jagged scars cutting through the black crow. He wondered, for a moment, if she had done that herself, as if she had been trying to scratch it off. Tristan knew that his betrayal two years ago had hurt her, had angered her, but he never thought that she would try to injure herself over it. And yet, maybe he was wrong. Maybe she had received those scars in a fight. He knew she would never tell him. She would never trust him as much as she used to.

He sighed, sitting back in his chair, his eyes watching the graceful curves of her body as she rolled over onto her right side, turning her back to him. Tristan's gaze locked onto the marking covering her back, the map to untold treasure. He remembered seeing it, two years ago, but never realizing what it meant or what it led to. He could remember running his hands along her back, his fingers tracing the intricate outlines of it. He could even remember asking her about it and receiving only a cryptic reply.

Tristan sighed again and then stood up, stretching his back for a moment. He knew there was no point in him staying in the room until morning. She was more likely to stab him in his sleep than to curl up next to him. He reached down slowly, lifting the soft sheets from her hips and pulling them up to her shoulders, hiding her exquisite body from him. Tristan gazed at her face for a brief second. It was amazing how a woman who could hold Death at bay with a glance could look so peaceful in her sleep.

He kissed the crook of her neck softly, careful not to wake her. She stirred slightly, a small sigh escaping from her lips. Tristan straightened again, turning his back on her and walking slowly to the door. With one last look back at her, he left the room, leaving Emory to her dreams.

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

"You've got your passion, my child, and you've got your pride," Amora whispered, cradling the young girl to her. "But don't you know only fools are satisfied? Dream on, Emory, but don't imagine they'll all come true."

Emory stared up at her mother, the older woman's eyes glassed over with sickness. "Mommy?" she called, her five-year-old voice tiny and hollow.

Amora didn't reply at first, her breathing halting slightly.

"Mommy?"

Amora gasped slightly. "You're a beautiful child, my little Emory. You're destined for great things, I can see it in your eyes. Never let people take advantage of you my darling, hold your fate in your own hands."

She smiled down at the young Emory until a sudden bout of coughing took hold of her, a thin trail of blood trickling down from the corner of her mouth. She trailed one finger down Emory's cheek lightly. "If only he could see you now," she muttered.

"Who mommy?" Emory asked softly.

Amora didn't reply, her eyes glazing over. Emory tugged at her mother's hand slightly. "Mommy?"

"Mommy?"

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

Emory woke to an empty bed, the soft sheets around her void of heat. She kept he eyes closed, imagining the heat of his arms around her. Emory inwardly groaned. God was she an idiot. Allowing that man into her bed again. How could she have been so stupid? What had she been thinking?

Of course, that was just it, wasn't it? She hadn't been thinking. At least, she hadn't been thinking about what she should have been thinking. Emory hadn't been thinking about not giving him another chance to try and kill her. Oh no, she had been thinking of something else entirely. Emory silently cursed herself and her urgings. That's how she had gotten into this mess in the first place.

Emory shivered slightly, but it wasn't from the cold of the blankets around her. Someone was in the room. Someone who wasn't supposed to be. Someone who was about to be dead.

Emory moved her hand slowly, silently, through the sheets, reaching for the pistol she kept hidden until a familiar voice broke the silence.

"Looks like someone 'ad a little bit of fun last night."

Emory sighed and rolled over, careful to keep the sheets firmly around her chest so as not to allow him to see her naked. And that confused her. Normally she wasn't concerned with anyone seeing her undressed, but this man was different and she didn't know why.

"Did ya need somethin', Cap'n Sparrow?"

Jack stared over at her, taking in her familiar features and odd eyes. He didn't speak for a moment, merely locking gazes with Emory. "Actually," he finally replied, "yes. We need ta finish discussin' what we're gonna do once we reach Kingston."

"Can't this wait until I'm dressed?"

"Only if yer bothered by my being here."

Emory stared into his eyes, noticing that not once did his gaze stray anywhere else but her own eyes, keeping his gaze locked on hers.

"Whatever. Let's jus' get it over with."

Jack nodded and then leaned forward, leaning his elbows on his knees. "We'll have ta dock off port. Don't want the bloody Navy knowin' we're there. I know exactly where we have to go, I've been ta visit 'em a few times."

"So I take it they're pirate friendly," Emory asked.

He nodded again. "Aye. They've been 'oldin' on ta somethin' of mine fer awhile, I need ta get it back."

"What is it?"

"Can't say right now, you'll know when the time's right," he paused, taking a deep breath, and then continued. "Now, if I've timed it right, the rich 'n' pretty should be 'avin' their annual 'kick the little people when they're down' ball, 'osted by me contact."

"So?"

"You'll be there with me."

Emory stared over at him, confused. "Are you crazy?"

Jack smirked, leaning back in his seat, his eyes still locked on hers. "I've been called that," he shrugged. "Course, if ya wanna take some o' yer crew, ya can. Jus' make sure they can look at least partially presentable. Don't need our cover getting' blown right when we get there.

"Make sure ya bring that Tristan lad as well, 'e seems ta know a whole helluva lot more than he's lettin' on."

Emory groaned, not liking what he was saying. "Do I 'ave a say in this at all?"

Jack grinned. "Not really. Yer vital to me plans. Now, we'll be reachin' Kingston in the next day or so, so make sure yer ready."

"But I 'ave nothin' ta wear," Emory replied sarcastically.

"We're pirates lass. I'm sure we can . . . acquire . . . somethin'."

Emory grinned up at him, her mismatched eyes glinting. "I'm sure we could."

Jack stood up, brushing a stray strand of his hair away from his face. "Now, yer first mate's been sittin' outside yer door anxiously waitin' ta speak ta ya, so, I will leave you. Good day, Cap'n."

Emory nodded silently in reply, her eyes narrowing. It was odd to hear a pirate speak in such a polite manner. There was more to this man than he was letting on and she sure as hell was going to find out what it was.

Jack left her room, leaving the door open and nodding silently to Conway. Conway opened his mouth as if to say something to him but then shut it, allowing Jack to walk away. Conway watched him leave for a moment and then turned to her, stepping into her cabin and shutting the door.

"Cap'n," he stated simply, although Emory could hear something else hidden into his one word.

She rolled her eyes, staring up at the ceiling. "Don't Mr. Conway. It's not gonna 'appen again. It was one moment o' weakness."

"Never said I was gonna say nothin'," he replied.

"Oh please," Emory said, rolling out of her bed, the sheets falling to the floor. "I can hear it in yer voice."

Conway stared down at the floor, allowing his captain some privacy. "It's none o' my business what ya do Cap'n," he answered.

"Or who, right, Mr. Conway?" she asked, grinning. She stepped up to him, tying a black sash around her waist.

Conway grinned back. "Jus' wish ya'd choose a better partner next time. One that hasn't tried ta kill ya."

"Understood," she answered, pulling her long red-black hair back into a braid, "and duly noted. I'll try ta keep that in mind next time. Is that all ya needed?"

Conway shook his head. "Crew's not 'appy about 'im bein' on board either. They all remember what he did ta ya."

"They'll jus' 'ave ta deal with it. There was nothin' else I could do. Let 'em know that if any of 'em do anythin' ta 'im, they'll 'ave me ta answer to, savvy?"

"Aye, Cap'n, I'll let 'em know. What about when we reach Kingston?"

Emory thought for a moment, slipping her feet into her shin-high boots. "Get two or three of the men together. Make sure they look presentable. We'll be goin' ashore with Cap'n Sparrow."

"Ya sure that's wise?"

"Yer not questionin' me again are you, Mr. Conway?" Emory snapped, her eyes darkening.

"Course not, Cap'n," he muttered.

Emory stared over at him and then sighed. "Sorry, mate. It's all just . . . I'm just . . ." she sighed again. "It's just too much ta take in. I'm goin' against everythin' I believe an' tryin' ta trust this man who claims ta be Cap'n Jack Sparrow. I'm a little stressed is all."

Conway nodded. "I know Cap'n," he said softly, and then smiled slightly. "May as well get topside. Crew's waitin' fer ya."

Emory nodded, standing up and leaving her cabin, Conway following behind her. If she was this temperamental after everything, Conway couldn't even begin to imagine how pissed she was going to be when she learned the whole truth.

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

Rebecca stared down at the plate of food on the table in front of her. Her ears heard what the crude captain was saying, but her mind didn't want to believe him.

"How can you lie so?" she asked quietly.

The captain laughed. "Ain't lyin' wench."

"Yes, you are. I know who my parents are."

"Obviously, you don't," he sneered.

"Yes, I do!" she yelled, slamming her fists down on the table. "They are Will and Elizabeth Turner! Not these people I hardly know!"

"It'd be impossible fer ya ta know her mother since she's dead."

"No, she's not," Rebecca whispered, covering her face with her hands. "She's not. You're wrong. You're lying."

The captain slammed the tip of a knife into the table. "Enough! Yer as irritatin' as yer mother! I do you a favor by tellin' ya who you really are an' all ya can do is argue? I'd be grateful wench."

"Grateful for what? For you trying to kill me?"

"If I'd wanted ya dead, wench, ya would be."

Rebecca swallowed. "Then why don't you?"

He smiled, a cruel, bone-chilling smile. "Because I have something much more important in store for you."

"Like what?" she asked hesitantly.

"Like bait."

(nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

AN: I'm baaaaaack! I am so sorry that it has taken me so long but everything went to hell all in one week. First, my computer dies and I have to send it in to get fixed and I just got it back yesterday! Second, a hurricane hits and we lose power for a week. And then our cable is out until today, so I can't get online to do anything. Everything just really blew monkeys. But, here I am! I hope you all enjoy it!

kantgetdizgrl: Oh thank you! And as to your question. No, Tristan was not in the last story. This story is basically about the daughters and life after the second story and what happens and what not. Tristan is actually a new character, but you will find out a lot about him in later chapters! I'm glad you liked it and I hope you continue reading!

Dawnie-7: It will all be explained later on, when I can figure out what exactly it is. And it's a good guess. All will be revealed in later chapters because I can't reveal it yet. Hope you liked the chapter!

Euterpe: Okay, first, your question. No. Well, yes. The marking is different each time in each generation. But, they didn't actually find the island with the treasure on it. In Sui Generis, she led Skinner to a false island where Jack and the rest were waiting for them. And, in Silver and Gold, both Jack and Lor had several dreams where they were in a cavern surrounded with gold with a tiny silver armlet floating above a pedestal. That, in fact, is the real island. They just never got there until later. I hope that helped!

The DuTchess of Doom: Boy, you do catch on quick. I'm very sorry that I leave you pondering for hours, but I guess that's the sign of a good story, right? And, in Silver and Gold, the pain in Lor's shoulder was because Mason had stabbed her. I guess I should have made that more clear because now I do realize that Skinner . . . skinned . . . her there in Sui Generis. You find out about the tattoo in this chapter, so I hope you like the reason that she has it. I'm glad you're enjoying it!

Evil Duckie of the BlackLagoon: Thanks! I'm glad you liked it!

Obsetress: Yes, the reason he stabbed her will be revealed soon. I just have to figure out completely what it is. And, no, the captain is no Barbossa. I don't think I could ever bring him back. Now, I know a lot of people do, and they write it wonderfully, but I just think he is better off dead.

NazgulGirl: I can't really kill him off right now because he is an integral part to my story, sorry. I hope you liked it!

Arein: Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it!

Mystery GYRL: Well, it's about time. JK! Anyway, glad you liked it! And thanks for all the help!