The next morning, I find Thomas by the railing of the ship. My nightgown still on, I wrap my shawl tightly around my shoulders. My bare feet quiver at the cold of the wet wood from the light rain we had during the night. I push as much hair as possible behind my ears only to have it whip back into my face seconds later.

My eyes, red and puffy, and my voice promising to quiver, I walk over to Thomas' side.

He doesn't acknowledge my presence, but keeps on staring out over the large empty sea.

"Hello." I say, after a few moments of what seems to be a peaceful silence.

"What more do you want?" The anger and hatred in his voice is apparent, and takes me completely by surprise. His cheeks are dry, yet his eyes are red. He must have cried last night as I was sleeping.

"I don't know what you mean." I answer nervously, unsure as to what to expect.

He turns sharply towards me, a scowl on his face. His blond curls fall messily onto his forehead, only contributing to his maddened look.

"Yes, you do." He sneers with utter disgust before turning to leave.

I grab his arm before he can get too far and swing him back to face me.

"No, I don't." I state firmly.

Thomas wrenches his arm from my grip before leaning in close to me, his face not three inches from mine. "You took Greaves." He hisses through his teeth, his eyes dark his face etched into an angry frown, "What more do you expect to be given?"

I pull back from his intense gaze, flabbergasted. "Wha-? Are you actually blaming me for what happened to Greaves? You heard what the doctor said, it was probably some type of poisoning." My confusion quickly turns into anger and my defences immediately go up, "Besides, it was Greaves' idea to go and find Elizabeth in the first place!" My anger is burning high and I can almost feel smoke coming out of my ears.

"If you hadn't snuck into the cave all those years ago, he wouldn't have met you and would still be living peacefully!" Thomas retorts, his self-control completely abandoning him.

"That is the most absurd thing I have ever heard! And oh, as if you ever wanted me to stay away! If I remember correctly, you are the one that deliberately disobeyed Greaves and lied to everyone in order to attend my coming out ball!"

"I was blinded by infatuation!" Thomas protests. "I was young and stupid."

"That was barely a month ago!"

"Well, lets just say that you grow up quite a bit when you are manipulated and tricked and then have everything you love ripped away from you."

"Manipulated?" I am utterly furious, "Tricked? You, sir, do not have your facts straight. I didn't 'manipulate' you into helping me. I did not 'trick' Greaves into coming up with the plan. If anything, it was you and Greaves who manipulated me into lying to my father and leaving my home only so that you could have an 'adventure'."

"Oh, so now your blaming a dead man."

"Agh!" I groan. "Why must you take my every word and twist it into something the complete opposite?"

"I just say things the way they are and I never asked to take part in such a wasteful adventure. I never asked for you to become friends with Greaves or myself."

"Yes, well that may be true but you were not exactly doing everything within your power to push me away! And wasteful? Ha, just because there is nothing in it for you, you claim that it has no purpose. You did not have to join us. You did not have to help. In fact, I would not mind it in the slightest if you left us at the next dock. In fact, I wish you would!"

I twist on my heel and stomp away.

Why does he blame me for something that was completely out of my control! Greaves's death was not my fault! It wasn't... Right?

I push my thoughts of doubt out of my mind and walk straight up to the upper deck. Anamaria is no longer steering and in her place stands Jack. He stands tall, unmoving, his hat perched casually on the top of his head. So nonchalant that you would never have guessed that death crowded every corner of the ship.

"Find the nearest port." I tell him before face out to the front of the ship. If I don't ask, if I demand, he won't be able to say no.

"Found one! It is a few miles to the west. Is that all you wanted, sweetheart?" Jack says displaying as much seriousness as he can muster. Yet, I know his too well and can see right through his act to the mocking.

"Jack, dock at the nearest port. Now." I scowl, my voice deep and hopefully intimidating.

Jack doesn't look as frightened as I had wished but he looks at me as if he actually sees me and cares.

"Why, Anna?" He asks almost reluctantly, as if he knows my answer.

"We have some old things to throw out." I reply, sullenly, "And don't ever call me sweetheart."

As the docks come into view, I look down to where Thomas still stands at the railing. He has barely moved and even from the side, I can tell that he is still scowling. His shirt billows in the wind and I bet that goose bumps cover his arms. Yet, he is too stubborn to get his cloak. Too unwilling to show any sign of weakness even if it is only common sense.

It is better this way. I tell myself. With Thomas out of the way, I will be able to fully concentrate on finding Elizabeth.

And yet, I know that it is not the right thing to do.

But as the town and its docks loom closer and closer, I know that I can't back down. Just like Thomas, I can't look weak. And I will not waste the time spent coming here. I will not waste the time that could have been spent getting closer and closer to Elizabeth. I will do what I have to do, even if it is done with a heavy heart.

Finally, Thomas sees the town, ever approaching and realization hits his face. He knows why we are here.

"I would not mind it in the slightest if you left us at the next dock. In fact, I wish you would!"

He looks up to where I stand and he nods, ever so slowly, in acceptance, and maybe even gladness of what I am doing, of what he will be doing.

He straightens up and heads back down to the hull, most likely to pack his things.

Jack, having seen our little exchange says, "Are you sure?"

"Please don't question me, Jack." I say, unable to keep my voice void of sadness. "Not now. Not when his leaving is imminent."

"Not that I am complaining that he is leaving, but you do realize that you will be the hardest person to be with when he is gone, right?"

I ignore his comment, probably because I know it is true. Thomas is the one person who can calm me when I am angry, who can make me feel like I am at home in the middle of the ocean, who will protect me with everything he has, even his life. And I am sending him away.

An hour or so later, we pull into the docks. They are not as new and clean as Port Royal but at least are not as dilapidated and run-down as Tortuga's. A few shipyard workers glance our way in curiosity but quickly look back to their work. Only two other merchant ships are docked and by the noisy crowds surrounding them, it is obvious that the trading must have already begun.

Thomas is at the boarding plank with with very few possessions in a sac. I struggle to keep a solemn face and manage to keep myself from moving or signalling a goodbye. With one final glance up at me, he slowly exits the ship, his footsteps, slow yet assured.

I look up over the docks to the town, where nicely built shops and homes stand. Although they look fairly old, they seem to be fairly clean and well-maintained. Exotic plants and flowers spot the unkempt, yet controlled, yards and the roads are paved with cobblestone which is in incredibly good condition.

Leaving Thomas in an unknown town might not be the kindest thing but there are much worse places to be "marooned" and he will most likely find work soon and be able to go wherever he wishes to go.

Suddenly, I am aware of the strange looks I am receiving from the inhabitants of the town. A group of dock workers are gathered by the edge of the boat and are having a lively conversation while all have their eyes locked on me.

As Thomas walks by, he manages to hear at least part of the conversation. His eyes grow wide and his fists clench and unclench as if readying himself to throw himself into the group before fighting his way out.

Just as it seems that he will let out a mighty roar and teach the crowd of men a lesson, he looks up at me. His expression softens and with a shake of his head, he relaxes and carries on off the docks and down the main road of the town, most likely in pursuit of an inn.

Tears well up in my eyes as I watch his retreating back. He doesn't even respect me enough to defend my honour which I am sure was being threatened by the remarks made by the crowd of uncouth men.

I turn my attention back to the gawkers, trying to figure out what it is that they find so interesting about me. It is then that I realize that I am still dressed in my nightgown. My thin, billowing nightgown that is wet in some locations from the sea spray and my tears.

I feel my face burn a deep scarlet from ear to ear and I know that I can not really blame the men for whatever comments they made about me.

I grab my shawl and make haste to exit the top deck and go below deck, the mens' laughter nipping at my heels. Once I have retreated into the hull, I can't help laugh at my predicament. Through my pain and tears, I let out a might guffaw and I get lost in the world of laughter.

For what seems like hours, I roll on the ground, pain-filled tears mixing with tears of laughter and my white nightgown turning grey. Once my laugh starts sounding forced, I pull myself up into a sitting position and take a deep, relaxing breath thankful for a moment of silent peace.

What would Father and Elizabeth have to say about my situation if they were here? Would they say that I made a mess out of things like I usually do? That I was a failure? That I was an embarrassment since I couldn't even accomplish a single task? Or would they say that I made the best out of what I had? That no one could have done a better job? That I was doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing?

I get to my feet and lean back against the wall. When had things become so complicated? When had the plan become more than just "Find Elizabeth"? When had I started to feel so alone... so, so alone.

I slowly make my way through the halls and into my chamber. It is so clean that it is hard to imagine that anyone was in here, least of all Thomas. He completely stripped it of its memory of him and now I would be utterly alone, without even the scent of him trailing in the air.

I quickly strip off my nightgown and gingerly lay it on the bed. I don't think I could ever wear that thing again.

I pick up the outfit that Anamaria had put together for me and put it on, not forgetting the red bandana or the belt.

I turn to leave and out of the corner of my eye, I see something gleaming poking out form the covers of my bed. I pull back the sheets to reveal a pistol. A small, clean, unscratched pistol.

In curiosity, I pick it up and carry it out with me to the deck.

When I reach the deck, the ship has already departed from the town and the docks are at least a mile away.

I make it up the flight of stairs to the upper deck, two steps at a time and plop the the weapon in front of Jack.

"You know, it isn't very polite to enter a woman's chamber and start leaving your things around." I tell him.

He looks down at the pistol before looking back up to see. "Not mine, although I wish it. This must be one of the nicest, well-crafted pistols I have ever seen."

I take it back. "Well, if it isn't yours, where is Will?"

"It isn't mine." Will says from behind me. He pulls back his cloak to reveal his own small firing weapon, "See? I have mine right here. I don't know whose that is, but I saw Thomas carrying a similar one around. Can I see it?

I pass it over and wait as Will carefully inspects every inch of it.

"Are you trying to make us look like fools?" He asks after a few minutes.

"What on earth are you talking about?" I reply, getting quite annoyed at everyone questioning everything I do.

Will simply hands it back over to me, pointing at something. Taking a closer look, I see that something has been engraved. Turning the pistol so that it catches the best light, I can make out a name. MY name.

Annalee

Thomas. Even after all I had done and said to him, and even after he was gone, he was still protecting me, still caring, still loving.

With Greaves dead, and Thomas gone, I have no one else. No one else who truly understands the pain I have gone through, am going through. No one else who has been there since the beginning. No one else I can fully trust.

Oh,Thomas, what have I done?