Author's Note: Hey, it's been awhile. Sorry about that. I'll try to be more consistent about updating in the future. Much love!

Chapter Seventeen

Fisherman's Harbor had been abandoned for several years and the small populace that had lived there moved to Port Royal when the fish learned to avoid the small bay. It was the perfect location for small vessels to anchor, but the long trek to Port Royal often dissuaded traders and the like. And it was to this harbor Miranda knew Barbossa was leading her.

"You must let me go!" Miranda begged, falling to the ground in exhaustion. Blood wept from her legs from when Barbossa had half led, half dragged her through the underbrush of the forest behind the Swann manor.

The pirate's hand slipped from her wrist with ghost-like swiftness, and Miranda pulled her arm to her chest, rubbing where he had gripped so hard. Barbossa said nothing, and Miranda wondered what he was waiting for. Fear and despair formed a lump in her throat as she tried to form words.

"A horrid, word-twisting monster."

"Pardon?" the dark shape of Barbossa growled, looming closer. She could almost hear the smirk on his face.

"That's what I was saying," Miranda choked out, "before you shot my fiance. You cut my words off, then, but time hasn't changed their accuracy." She finished coldly, her strength returning as she reclaimed her breath and energy.

"He had it coming."

"Antony is a good man." Miranda clenched her teeth.

"A soft man," Barbossa countered with a snort.

"You had no right-" Miranda began, scrambling to her feet. In one movement Barbossa seized her by the shoulders and pushed her solidly against the tree she'd been resting near.

"You lis'en t'me, Miss Farthin'." His eyes gleamed vehemently and his face bore closer to hers. "You can claim all ye want that I did kidnap ye. You can argue yer innocence until the sharks be mermaids and the dead men dance, but when I let go of ye, you did'n run. And that, Miss Farthin, is more tellin' than any words you can say."

"I-"

But Barbossa cut her off again. "I wonder, Miss Farthin', if it's b'cause ye be ready fer another adventure with a gang of pirates. Married life would not suit ye."

Miranda said nothing, hating the grin that slowly twisted itself on Barbossa's lips as the silence continued and confirmed the truth in his words.

"Why did you come?" she finally asked, looking at him. The night sky was flooded with clouds, but she could see a gleam in Barbossa's eyes.

"I've already told you," Barbossa replied. "Sev'ral times in sev'ral ways. I can't help that yer the dullest rock that's ever wrecked me." He turned and took a few steps away. Miranda stepped forward cautiously, not sure how to put her next words.

"I haven't been the same since I returned to Port Royal. I haven't been able to forget . . ." she faltered, but pushed on. ". . .forget how much my life has changed since you first held me prisoner. I can't enjoy needlepoint or lessons. I can't tolerate the company of my mother and father or girls from town. The motions and manners of everyone seems unwelcoming and fake." Barbossa looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes piercing into hers. "I can't go back to the way things were," Miranda finished feebly.

"And ye blame me," Barbossa murmured, as though thinking aloud.

"You've turned my world inside out," Miranda explained helplessly. "I don't even know if I-"

Her words were cut off with a sharp gasp that she recognized as her own, for as she spoke the clouds slipped away from the moon, and Barbossa stood in his ragged, rotting form. Although the memory of the last occasion she'd seen him as such had been burned into her mind, seeing it again so unexpectedly was suddenly much, much worse.

For a brief moment the pirate did not seem to realize why she'd reacted the way she did. Then understanding flashed across the remaining tendons and muscles of his face. Miranda forced herself to look calm, but she knew no expression she could make or words she could say could undo the first gasp of horror she'd allowed.

Barbossa looked down at a decayed hand, curling and uncurling his flesh-eaten fingers.

"Miss Farthin', I am a monster," he breathed, his voice rasped and raw from rotten vocal cords. "But I'll be damned to Jones' locker if I let ye b'come one too."

"I don't-" Miranda began, confused, but he continued as if she hadn't spoke. "Now go, Miss Farthin'. Ye'll not b'long with the likes of me."

In the distance Miranda could hear the soft sighing of the ocean waves breaking on rocks. The noise beckoned her and filled her with longing to go to it. To wade in the gentle tide, to trust the white-tipped swells and delight in the salty tang that caught the breeze. The ocean did reveal one's true self. Miranda knew now with more certainty than she'd known anything else in her entire life. Beyond mathmatics and laws, beyond the certainty of the rising sun, Miranda knew her path.

"No."

It seemed like such a weak word as it passed over her lips, but it was strong enough to bring Barbossa around to face her fully.

"No?"

"I'm not leaving." Miranda collapsed against the tree as the weight of her own words struck her. Barbossa said nothing, but she felt his piercing gaze on her face. "I can't go back to the way things were," she repeated. "I can't go back."

"An' why would tha' be?" A new tone had caught in Barbossa's voice. Miranda pushed herself from the trunk of the tree and stepped towards his ragged, skeletal frame. She reached forward and took one of his cold, decayed hands in hers.

"Because I belong with you."