Thank you everyone who reviewed! I appreciate it!
I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean, Disney does. I only own the characters who weren't in the movies. You know, the ones I made up.
Everything happened in a blur. My hand tightened around the handle of my sword as Oliver's body sank limply to the ground. Chrissy's gasp filled my ears when the golden sand beneath him stained red. Nobody moved. Nobody moved but Oliver. His head turned weakly in the sand, and his agony-filled eyes focused on Davis. He pulled his right hand out from under his body, a pistol clutched so tightly in it that all of the veins and muscles in his arms seemed to bulge out. He closed his eyes tightly as tears streaked awkwardly across his face, due to the fact that his left cheek was pressed to the sand. A sharp breath escaped him as though he'd been kicked in the chest, just before he slowly squeezed the trigger.
I flinched as blood speckled the left side of my face and part of my shirt. Davis's body flew sideways from the force of the bullet, yanking my sword from my hand. I stared down at the unmoving, bloody body. Oliver had shot him through the head. The life of Captain John Davis was no more.
Shouting and cheering from the navy sailors shook me back to reality. I looked to my family, my chest moving rapidly up and down as I tried to regain my breath. Chrissy was knelt down next to Oliver, as were Lieutenants Theodore Groves and Andrew Gillett. I staggered to them with unsteady footsteps, not taking notice that soldiers were pushing the pirates past me towards the ship. When I reached them, I fell to my knees in the blood-stained sand. The whole right-side and front of Oliver's shirt was a deep shade of red. His left hand was clamped over the darkest area of red, and was also bloodied. His right hand still grasped the pistol. Chrissy was in a panic, and the only thing holding her back was Theodore's strong embrace.
"Take her aboard the ship, away from here." I said quickly, but calmly.
As Theodore began to lead her away, Chrissy's sobs and screams intensified. She thrashed, turned and twisted and dragged her feet, but Theodore held strong. I brought my attention back to Oliver when Chrissy was finally dragged aboard. His breaths were coming in short, ragged spurts. His red-tinted eyes were wide with fear and agony, and he let out a scream filled with terror and pain.
I quietly pried his hand from his wound and pulled his shirt up, revealing his pale, purple-knotted skin. Andrew stumbled back, shocked.
"What's wrong with him?!" he asked.
I motioned for him to come back. "He's not sick. He was bitten by spiders."
"Spiders?" he mumbled.
"Chrissy?" Oliver called, his voice shaking with fear.
"She's on the ship. I'm here, Oliver. I didn't want her to see you this way." I told him calmly as I squeezed his shoulder.
"I don't want to die!" he sobbed.
I shook my head, even though I knew he couldn't tell. "You're going to be alright." I soothed. "Andrew, fetch me a surgeon."
I paced the cabin in both worry and anger. James had kept me locked up in here for an hour, at least, since we'd shoved off. What was going on? Where were we? Where has my husband gone off to? An angry sigh passed my lips for the tenth time as I stormed over to the bookshelf. I stood and stared at the miniature library, nothing really catching my attention at first.
I began to walk away, when a black book with gold lettering caught my attention. I walked toward the book with furrowed brows and pulled it off the shelf. My features softened when I saw that the title said "Holy Bible". James would read to me from this book every night, about an hour before we would go to bed. That was before we'd been abducted, though. It didn't hit me until I looked back down at the Bible how much I'd been missing it.
With another sigh, this one a bit softer than the other ten, I took a seat on James's bed and began to read.
James entered the cabin quietly, a very tired expression on his face. I closed the Bible, of which I'd been reading for two hours, and put it on his shelf.
"How is he?" I asked quietly as I stopped even less than a foot from him.
His hair was mussed up like he'd been running his hands through it over and over, and he still had dried blood on the left side of his face and clothing. He appeared to have a bit of fresh blood on him as well, and this didn't help my worry.
"James?" I tried again, panic lacing my voice.
He nodded slightly as he staggered forward and kissed me weakly. "We got the bullet out. It was nestled in his flesh, just beneath the right point of his ribcage. If it had been any higher, he wouldn't have made it."
"Where is he?" I asked shakily.
"We found a spare, empty bedroom for him to stay in. He's sleeping now, thank goodness. He put up quite a fight. Several men had to hold him down for the surgeon to do his work." he studied me weakly for a few minutes, allowing his tired eyes to skim my body. " I take it my men prepared the hot bath for you, just as I told them?" he said quietly as he reach out and stroked my damp hair.
I nodded. "They did. Curiously, though. They didn't even spare me a glance."
He smiled. "They saw what I did to Davis, just for touching you." he leaned down and kissed me again, but when he started to pull away, he changed his mind and captured my lower lip for a longer kiss. "Was it enjoyable?" he whispered against my neck as he placed kisses on it as well.
"Yes. It feels nice to finally be clean. You could use a bath, too." I told him half seriously and half playfully as I once again looked at the blood splattered on him.
He smiled and placed one more kiss near my collarbone. "It does sound nice."
My eyes followed his figure as he walked to the tub of steaming water and shed his blood-stained clothing. A groan passed his lips when he eased himself down into the soap suds-covered water. I winced as he began to nurse his wounded right shoulder. The slash look deep, and very irritated. He grunted when the soapy water came into contact with his wound, and I was at his side in a heartbeat.
"They didn't patch your wounds?" I asked irritably as I inspected his shoulder and bloody right-hand knuckles.
"There were other men there that had much worse wounds than me. The surgeons had their hands full." he said, wincing all the while I made my inspections.
"James!" I scolded softly. "I can see infection trying to start, right here." I pointed out, probing an area of his sword wound.
He grunted at my probing. I sighed through my nose as I picked up the rag and bar of soap that I'd left near the tub. "This may sting a bit." I began to lightly dab at and scrub the wound in his shoulder, which earned me a hiss from James. "Easy…Shh…" I soothed as I tried to scrub lighter.
It became silent as I became absorbed in my task and my thoughts. What was it that Davis had said just before Oliver had shot him? Beckett? Yes, that was it. Beckett. Lord Cutler Beckett. Where had I heard that name before.
"Beckett?" I mumbled.
James's eyes were on mine as soon as the word left my mouth.
"James, is that the name of the man that did all of those…horrible things to innocent people? To you?"
He nodded slowly. "Yes."
I looked down. "And…Oliver…is his heir?"
"Yes." he said gravely.
My eyes found his again and silently pleaded, while my voice filled with determination. "I'm not giving him up, James. I don't care who his father was…he's my son now."
"I know." he whispered, laying a comforting hand atop mine as he did. "When we get back to Port Royal, we can go to Alexander. He can help us with adoption papers, and Oliver's name. We'll have it changed from Beckett to Norrington. No one will ever know about his past, and he can be spared a lot of public humiliation."
I nodded and began scrubbing his face and neck. "Wait." I said, stopping again. "Why a lot? Why won't he be spared of all public humiliation?"
He shook his head sadly. "Because of the simple fact that he's coming to live with us. Because we're adopting him as our own. People will talk because they have nothing better to do."
I shook my head as well, though a bit angrier than James, and started to scrub yet again. What was it about the elite society and gossiping so badly it could ruin someone's life? Or, make life for the person being gossiped about a lot more difficult.
"Easy!" James hissed. "Are you trying to remove my skin?"
"I'm sorry." I mumbled upon realizing I'd scrubbed his chest to the point that it was pink. "I have so much on my mind…" It didn't come out right. It was supposed to come out in a sigh, but instead it came out in a cracked, broken voice. Then, before I knew it, I had a lump in my throat and I was trying to hold back tears.
The next thing I knew, James's warm, wet hand was on my cheek, and a kiss was placed on my forehead. "Go lie down, darling. I can finish here. It's alright." he soothed.
I nodded numbly and stood. James took the rag and soap easily from my shaking hands as I walked around the tub. "Do you need any help?" he called.
"I'm not completely helpless." I mumbled.
I fell down on the bed without effort, and curled into a ball without thinking. That's when the tears started. Why did it seem that the ones I loved always suffered? Why wouldn't anything ever happen to me, instead of my loved ones? My parents had died looking for food on the island, James had been shot twice a year ago, and was nearly killed yet again by a revenge-seeking pirate captain. Now all of this with Oliver! Maybe I should just stay away from my family to protect them…No. That would kill James. Perhaps if I stayed in the manner all day all the time …that would kill me. But, it's better than anyone dear to me getting hurt, or worse.
I shuddered as the memory of James with amnesia filled my mind, and I curled into a tighter ball as the tears intensified. My chest began to ache, and my eyes burned. I'd never felt more pain than when my fiancé didn't remember me, or remember proposing to me. Even getting mauled by the black panther wasn't as painful as those dark two months.
In the background I could hear James getting up and out of the tub, and then the rustling of a towel as he dried himself off. I didn't even try to calm myself when I heard his footsteps drawing near. I didn't want to calm down, I wanted to get it out of my system. I continued crying, even when I felt him lay his hand comfortingly on my right shoulder. I snatched his hand greedily in both of mine and held it tightly to my chest. I wanted to feel his warmth, because I felt so cold. It felt as though his warmth was the only thing that could keep my cold body alive.
"You're trembling." he whispered.
"I feel so cold…" I choked.
He gently pulled his hand away and folded the bed sheets over me, then sat down on the edge of the mattress and began to rub my back. "Are you alright?" he asked softly.
"I don't know anymore!" I sobbed.
"Are you sick? Hurt? Do you need a doctor?" he asked calmly.
"A doctor can't help…James…I feel like everything is my fault!" I cried.
His hand stopped moving, and he rolled me over on my back. "What?!" he sounded like he'd lost his voice.
"My parent's death…you getting shot, amnesia, and tortured…Oliver's condition…My fault." I mumbled.
"No…no! None of that was your fault! Your father died because he was foolish! I'm an Admiral of the Royal Navy, my life is in danger every day! I knew the risks when I joined, Chrissy. Oliver's condition was obviously meant to happen, dear. None of that was your fault!" he explained quickly, quietly.
"It all happened when I came around. Maybe I…don't belong." I whispered. My voice was still cracking.
The next thing I knew, my hands were pinned above my head and James was sitting on my upper thighs. "Don't say that! Don't even think that!' he said sadly.
I studied his eyes for a long, silent moment. They appeared to be quite alarmed, with grief, pain and desperation mixed in. My eyes widened and my heart skipped a beat upon stumbling across realization. "You think I want to leave you." I stated as all of the air left my lungs.
His eyebrows twitched and his breath caught in his throat, but he said nothing.
I shook my head slowly. "No…James. No! I would never leave you!" Was my soundless reply.
I struggled to free my hands from above my head. James didn't look away from my face, but let go and allowed me to pull him down on top of me and roll him over on his side. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, pulling him as tightly as I could against my body as was possible. Only then did I realize he was clad in just a pair of breeches, and the rest of him was bare.
"I wouldn't put you through that. You know I wouldn't." I said against his chest.
His arms tightened around my waist, and still, he said nothing. He didn't have to, his actions said it all. Don't go. Don't let go.
"I won't let go." I whispered.
I heard him swallow hard, and he pressed his face to the top of my head. "Why…why would you feel that leaving would solve the problem?" he asked weakly.
"Nothing happens to me…just my loved ones."
"No." he said, pulling back so he could look me in the eyes. "What has happened is life!" he nearly cried as he sat up and rested his weight on his knees and feet.
I noticed that in the process of getting up, he knocked my arms from around him, but he allowed my legs to stay locked around his waist.
He looked down at me with sad eyes as he pinned me down by the shoulders. "You can't just run away at every wrong turn!" The corners of his lips twitched. "I did. I ran to Tortuga, and it messed my head up for quite a bit. I ran from the problem, and I regretted it." he leaned down, and, didn't wrap his arms around me, but pressed them firmly along the sides of my torso, and pushed his hands under me so he could grip my shoulders from the back. "Don't make my mistake." he whispered. He lowered his head until our noses were touching. "Don't run from the problem. Don't be stupid."
He let out a long, shaky sigh and pressed his face to the curve of my neck. We laid there unmoving, with the exception of our uneven breathing. Did he really think I would leave him, after everything we'd been through? My eyes hardened upon realization. He was insecure of me because of Elizabeth. She'd accepted his proposal, pretended she loved him, then shoved it all in his face in public. She'd betrayed him in fron of everyone that knew him…publicly humiliated him, and that's why he was holding me so tightly.
"Promise me." he whispered, sitting up to look at me. "At least promise this one." he said as he laid his hand on my flat stomach.
"James," I said as I tightened my legs around his waist, and put my hands atop his on my belly. "Do you honestly think that after everything we've been through together, after losing a child and then getting pregnant again, I would leave you?" I asked quietly.
He stared at me hopefully as his eyes lit up, and he started to tremble.
"Do you really have so little faith in me, James? Didn't I show you, just a few nights ago, how much I love you? Don't I show you every day? Every night that I reach for you? Aren't I showing you now?" I made sure my passion showed in my voice as I pulled him closer with my legs.
He looked down, ashamed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't doubt you. You're…better than I deserve." he whispered.
I smiled and repeated his words from earlier. "Don't say that. Don't even think that." I stroked his face as I spoke. "Come closer."
He did so without hesitation, and shamelessly rested his head very low on my chest.
"Sleep." I whispered. "Go to sleep. You can rest assured." I smiled as I lulled him to sleep.
As I laid there holding my sleeping husband, I relaxed for the first time in what seemed like months. I had my answer. I belonged, I would just have to be very cautious. I closed my eyes, and James's breathing became my lullaby.
HEY!! WOOHOO!! OVER HERE!! I'm very sorry for the long delay in updating! I got a bit of writer's block, and I've been busy with keeping my grades up. Life got a bit hectic, too. (Sigh) Anyway. Again, sorry it took so long. Please review! Thanks!