XXII.
…But It Was Destroyed In One

"Bag of…shite…."She whispered to herself weakly. "Fucking…bag of shite…." Her body felt weak but every stab of pain helped her stay awake. Darkness beckoned but she couldn't give in. Not just yet.

Blood dripped hot and heavy from her side where she had been gored. She had slipped away and the ship still shook with battle. She had to treat herself…if someone found her and tried to treat her…Well they'd quickly find out her dirty little secret. She couldn't let that happen, not after carefully guarding it for so many years. It had been over ten years since she took upon her brother's mantle. She had to keep it, less her mother be cast out to poverty. She too would be shamed and she hated to think of what might happen to herself after that.

The needle dug into her skin again and she had to pull it taunt. It was so, so difficult, sewing herself up like this. Every time she dug the needle into her own skin, piercing through it and she pulled the string taunt, she wanted to scream. She held them all in and it made her stomach roll. She had to look, to see what she was doing to herself, to make sure she was pulling the string tight enough, to make sure the wound was closing. She leaned against the wall, awkward as she used one hand to pinch the already tender skin together and the other to push the sharp needle through it. She had cast off her shirt and corset, standing in only her trousers in the empty room.

She gasped, closing her eyes tightly as she pulled the string through again, feeling the rest of the wound pull. Only another inch or so to go. Just another inch, oh Christ, how was she going to get through that? Her stomach rolled again and she put the needle against her skin again and pushed. She about burst into tears it hurt so badly. She was sweating and shaking, gasping for air as if she had run a long distance. It was the blood loss or the pain that was going to get her. Oh, how she wished she could scream. It would make this moment so much more bearable.

"What the hell?" A voice startled her and she looked up and behind her to see Fitzpatrick standing in the doorway. She was panting and shaking yet, the bloody needle clutched in one hand. She couldn't form a reply as his eyes roamed her body – that was right her body. She wasn't a man at all. The man he praised for being 'such a solider' and a 'man among boys' was not a man at all. She wanted to laugh, but she could only stare with her pain addled eyes. "What the hell?" He repeated, as if urging her to deny the truth.

She drew in a deep breath and stopped panting long enough to ask. "Do you…need more proof? Want me to drop my trousers…too?"

He shut the door and locked it, something she should have done, but she had been too intent on fixing herself up to do such a thing. She needed to finish that last inch or so but the bleeding was slowing. Her side was slick with blood though. It was drying and it was warm and sticky with her life. She needed to finish fixing herself up but she was in so much pain. Plus she had been caught. Her military career was over.

"Give me the needle" He held his hand out as he came closer. Her glance down at her chest. "And…cover yourself." She handed him the bloody needle and crossed her arms across her chest. That was the best he was getting. She felt the needle dig into her side as he continued her work. She bit her thumb, shutting her eyes. She tasted blood in her mouth but didn't care.

It seemed like it took forever before he straightened after tying off the stitching. She was covered in a light sweat, trembling, panting and she had bit her thumb open in three places. He took her hand from her, making a sound of impatience. He took the bandages she had brought with her and wrapped her thumb before cleaning the drying blood off her side, being careful around her newly stitched wound and then putting a wrap over that as well.

"So you're a woman, eh, Read?" He asked. She had her back to him now, her arms still crossed over her chest.

"Aye. What do you want to do about it, mate?"

He paused and she figured he'd probably expose her, get her expelled, bring shame upon her family…all the good stuff she knew would happen if she got caught. She couldn't help it. It couldn't be helped. Lord knew that she had hidden her secret for years.

"You're a damn good solider. It'd be a shame to lose you." She turned her head so she could see him out of the corner of her eye. He was nodding, thoughtfully. "We're lucky you didn't die, Mark. You better put your….clothes back on. Battle's done and we have to head back to port to make repairs. You can get seen nice and proper there"

Then Fitzpatrick turned and left her there, shutting the door keenly behind him. She shook her head and picked up her corset. Well then, that was unexpected, but highly appreciated. She would have to find out what he wanted later.

They walked until they found a spot outside of the town, private and away from anyone who could hear. Fitzpatrick was not happy that he had been lied to – not happy he had been bested in the past by a woman. He didn't understand and Mary didn't much care to make him understand. As far as she saw it, he could end her career in the Navy at any time he wished. He leaned against a tree and she took a seat on a rock, holding onto her bad side. She hissed through her teeth as she sat.

"You handled yourself well…I'm surprised you were able to stand the pain of stitching that wound so." He was silent. "I know most men would have fainted to escape that pain and yet you had mostly sewed yourself up…" His words faded out. She waited impatiently.

"Are you going to turn me in or not?" She snapped finally. He didn't answer right away and she grew more and more irritated. Finally he sighed.

"No, I don't think I want to" That brought her up short. "If…if you tell me your real name and your reason for dressing up as a man, lass, I won't tell a soul"

"I don't got much of a choice if I want to remain part of the Navy" She frowned at him. "My real name is Mary Read. Mark Read was my half-brother. He died when I was five" Then she told him a brief version of the event that had led her to taking her brother's name and appearance.

"So…you joined the Navy because it was "in the family", at least for your brother." He tilted his head to the side a little his blue eyes curious. "I'll have to say, you're a most impressive woman" She flushed and glanced down.

"I only do what I have to"

"Oh? So you didn't want to be in the Navy?" he asked, surprised.

"Not in particular. It was what was expected out of me" She shrugged. That motion pulled on her side though and she winced. "I can't imagine where I'd be if I hadn't taken my brother's mantle. It was what was expected out of me – I had to"

He frowned. "I know how that feels. My father was in the Navy as well." He shook his head.

"I suppose you at least have a family to go back to. I'm…not close to anyone in my family myself. I'm sure you have a wife that misses you"

"No, no. I never married. I joined up with the Navy as soon as I was of age. My father would have had be betrothed otherwise. I can't stand for that. If I must have a wife, I will pick a woman I believe is worthy of me" For some reason, that made her flush. "What of you, don't you ever see yourself settling for a man?"

"No…What man will take a woman with as many scars as I have?" She touched the one over her eye in particular. Men wanted beautiful women, not women who could show them what for with a sword.

"If he cannot see the honor of your actions, see that you earned that scar in honor of the Queen and her Crown, then perhaps he is not worthy of you" Fitzpatrick seemed to believe his words. She smiled slightly and shook her head.

"I doubt any man will see it that way. No, I'll probably be alone most of my life." She tried not to let that bother her – it was any woman's dream to settle and have a brood. That wouldn't happen for her though. She just had to accept that. It hurt a little, but that was how it was.

Fitzpatrick didn't say anything; he just grimaced in a way that suggested pain.

"So you went and got yourself a tattoo" Mary looked at the new marking on James' arm. It was a little less than a week since had found out she was a woman. Somehow, they had managed to grow closer in that time in a way suggesting courtship but she really doubted he was courting her. Who would court a woman like her? He touched the tattoo, the new ink and he seemed so proud of it. She rolled her eyes. "Who did it for you?"

"A friend of mine who knows a bit about the art." He grinned at her. They were sitting in a tavern, drinking a couple drinks, just having a bit of fun in their off time. "What of you, Mark? Many men have tattoos, won't you join their ranks?" He shrugged his coat back on.

"Very doubtful. I don't see the point" She answered honestly.

"I think you should" James challenged her. "You can take the pain of it I reckon"

"It's not about the pain, Fitzpatrick" She said drily. She truly couldn't see the point of marking herself so. It seemed silly to her. Just something to do when one was bored, only to dislike the art later anyway.

"Alright, I'll make a bet with you. If I win, you get a tattoo. If I lose…"

"I'll figure something out" She rolled her eyes at him and took a drink. "So…what bet did you have in mind…?"

In the end, it hadn't mattered. Mary ended up losing and ended up in the chair of his friend, getting the only tattoo that would ever grace her body. She just didn't believe in it and was only getting the said tattoo because of the bet. She had honor after all. James looked upon it after and had a laugh.

"Looks good, Mary" He slapped her on the back. "I knew it would"

She could only roll her eyes at him, but she smiled. She always smiled when she was with him.

Mary wasn't sure when it started – she just knew when it happened. She was horribly in love with James Fitzpatrick. He kept her secret and when they had moments to themselves, he was sweet and kind to her. He treated her like the lady she wished she could be behind closed door. Besides that, that devil had stolen a kiss from her! It was terribly improper that she loved him and yet she did. She felt that he felt the same way.

They were walking the streets today, of London. They had returned, on a sort of break from the battles for a while. She was actually dressed in a skirt, though it was uncomfortable, because he asked her to. Her short hair was down and he was gazing at her as they walked. She felt her cheeks flush.

"What is it?" She asked, glancing up at him. Why was he staring at her so?

"You look so lovely with your hair down. I wish it were longer" He reached over to run his fingers through her hair as they walked. She ducked out of his range and walked faster. "Hey! Mary!" He reached to grab her but with a grin she lifted her skirt a little and dashed down the street. He dashed after her, laughing all the while.

He finally caught her, pulling her into an alley and pushing her against a wall. "What are you? A naughty boy with naughty things on his mind?" She teased him, looking up at him. He grabbed her chin in his hand.

"You have no idea" And he closed his mouth over hers to keep her from protesting further. God, she loved this man but how to tell him? It wasn't proper for them to be having any sort of affair. "Mary, I want you to quit the Navy. Say your mum has taken ill and you must attend to her. Or your grandmother – or anyone."

"James…" Her voice was hesitant.

"Please. I can't stand to see you in a battle anymore." His voice got low and he leaned his whole body closer to her.

"But…why? I've been in plenty of battles. It's not like I don't know what I'm doing…"

"Oh, you silly lass. I love you. Isn't it obvious?" He said it so casually. Like he had been courting her for months…Well she supposed it had been six months since he figured it out and promised not to tell the Navy her secret.

"I love you too" She found herself whispering.

"Then quit the Navy"

"And do what with my life then?"

"Be my wife. Marry me" She blinked in surprise. She had no words. She wasn't sure if he was kidding or not. She gazed into his blue eyes, wondering if she'd find deception there. Seeming to understand what she was doing, he went on. "I'm being serious, Mary. I want you to be my wife. I even saw a house for sale, not too far from the docks. It'd be the perfect little home for us. Marry me"

She shook her head with a smile. "I'd be crazy to say no" A grin broke out on his face and he kissed her again, harder than before, pouring all his joy into that kiss. Oh how they both smiled. "But you must tell my mother"

His face grew confused and then he shrugged. How hard could that be?

Her mother, of course, had been against it. Mary Read was supposed to be dead, how could she get married? She would be forced to use a fake name at her own wedding – and for the better too. The lads they sailed with had no idea that James had been courting a girl and he had to make up a story of how they met. Mary had gone along with it, keeping James' hand in hers as she wore makeup to help hide the clear scar on her face. Couldn't have any of the lads realizing who she was after all.

The actual wedding was a small affair and very private. James invited his immediate family and the only people there for Mary were her mother and two servants that had worked for her family for a very long time. It was also very simple. Mary and James just wanted to be seen as man and wife and let their life begin.

Still how she radiated with happiness and James did too. She had never seen him look so happy and she herself had never smiled so brightly. She doubted she ever would again. When the ceremony ended and they kissed for the first time as man and wife she whispered "Thank you" to him. She meant it – he had saved her, he had let her have a choice. And it was the best choice she had ever made.

They lived a good life.

With the gifts from "his" friends in the Navy, her inheritance from her mother and the money his father gave him as a wedding present, they built a good life. Their house was modest, but beautiful. It had plenty of room in it for the family that they both wanted. Mary couldn't see her life getting any better but it found a way.

Within two months of their marriage, she found she was with child.

James was ecstatic and she was as well. A child! Of course they were blessed with a child so soon! Her life was falling into a typical pattern and perhaps it was a little boring living at home, managing their few servants and looking forward to becoming a brood mother but it was what life was, was it not? There was no challenge in it but she loved her husband, he loved her and he spent those first three months helping her adjust to her new role. He helped her learn to settle. She had never been one for ease and comfort and yet there was plenty in their new life.

Then James was called back to battle. They argued something fierce over that. She was just beginning to show, her stomach just beginning to round and he was going to leave her – for months, maybe years. What of their child? Did he not want to meet him or her when they came into the world?

"Of course I do, Mary" He said, trying to calm her. He took her by her shoulders and bent a little to look down at her. "Give me a year, two at most and I'll be home with you and our little one. I'll be the father and husband you need"

"I know you will. I just don't want you to leave" She looked into his eyes, pleading with him.

"You know I can't stay. Please, Mary. You're just making this hard on yourself. You shouldn't stress yourself so. It's not good for the baby." He placed his hand on her stomach and smiled, in a clearly joyful way. "I can't believe it, my first child and I've barely reached my twenty-first year"

"I've just barely reach my seventeenth" She chuckled lightly.

"We can't all be so lucky to find love so young" He kissed her nose and pulled her close. "I will be back before you know it Mary. Then we'll have another child and I'll be here the whole time. I promise"

"Do you really?" She asked, looking up, her brown eyes pleading once more.

"Yes, I really promise" His kissed her forehead this time. She smile contently, but that smiled faded as she remembered he would be leaving her in two days. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach, of course that could just be the baby in her belly making her feel ill.

"I'll miss you. Everyday"

"I'll miss you too"

Two days later, they stood at the docks and she watched him sail off, her hands resting on her stomach. She just prayed he came home to her, safe and sound. She had no idea what she would do otherwise.

The knock on her door startled her. James had been gone four months. Her belly grew bigger by the day it seemed and seemed to sap the energy right out of her most days. While one of the servant girls could get the door, Mary was near it so she was the one who opened it to see two soldiers standing outside her door. Both of them were dressed well and they both bowed their heads upon seeing her.

"May I guess you are Mrs. Fitzpatrick? Mistress of the home?" The first man asked.

"Yes sir. Do…you gentlemen need something?" Her heart began to hammer. Her whole body seemed to know what was coming. Her mind denied it, but the rest of her knew. Oh did she know.

"We…We just received reports about a naval vessel that be believe your husband was on. It was sunk. There were no survivors." She blinked dumbly at his words. "The Queen sends her most humble apologies to you, Widow Fitzpatrick" Then she was handed some coin to 'help her get through the times without a provider' and a letter of sympathy said to be written by the Queen herself. Mary knew it wasn't. She threw the letter and the money down as soon as she closed the door.

She had composed herself in front of the men but that façade was rapidly crumbling. She stormed up to her and James' bedroom, tears already streaming down her face. No, no, no. There was no way he could be dead. Not her husband, not her love! She held her stomach as she paced her heart breaking. No, no, no. She had to keep it together, the baby, the baby. She had to be there for the baby. Their baby, the baby that they had created together. This was the last thing she had of his' and she had to protect it. She had to take care of the baby. The baby was all she had left to cling onto.

She didn't have else anything left.

Mary found herself in the taverns more and more frequently. Getting drunk wasn't helping her deal with her grief, but it helped her dealing with being alone. What day was it? Her hazy brain could barely count backwards to figure out what day it was, how long it had been. Three months since she lost her husband. Two months since she had lost her child. A miscarriage, of all things to happen to her. Doctor said it was probably her stressing herself out, freaking out because she lost her husband and so she had lost her baby too. The last thing she had to live for, gone.

So she was all alone.

The drink helped her forget that, but it didn't help her forget the pain in her heart. She doubted anything ever would. It was like a tear in in her chest, open and gaping and waiting to get infected by something horrible. Waiting to kill her.

But Mary Read didn't scum to the hole in her heart. She had too much pride for that. So she dressed as a man, took to the taverns and got pissed every day she could, every chance she could. It wasn't like she didn't have the money for it. She didn't care what she drank either as long as it left her in a haze so thick it was a struggle to remember if she was Mary or Mark or someone else entirely. She drank until she got lost on the way home; she drank until she ended up in other beds.

That actually happened a lot. She would get so drink she wound find a man, reveal herself to him and find herself in his bed when she woke up in the morning. She'd get dressed, stumble out and start all over again, drinking until she could barely stand. She had no one to help her either, she had cut contact with her mother after her and James' wedding. Things might have kept going that way, kept her drinking until she literally ended up dead if not for one night.

It was foggy that night, the mist creeping from the ocean like a beast stalking the homes of the good people of London. Mary was piss drunk and on her way home. She had no idea what time it was, but she had been in the tavern for hours now, downing drink after drink. She didn't notice when she passed the men in the back alley, but she did notice when one grabbed her arm. It brought her up short and she nearly fell over.

"'Ey! You're that lass who I was with some nights ago. You ah…you call yourself…what is it? A lad's name" The man was saying. There were two more with him.

"Mark!" She roared and laughed as if it were funny. "I call meself Mark."

"That's it!" The man said and then he turned, still clutching her arm to his friends. "Now lass, would you like to have a bit of fun with me and the lads?" The question seemed loaded, dangerous. She wasn't sure what she wanted to say. She was still turning it over in her head when another man spoke.

"'Course she does. Look at her; she won't even remember us in the morning"

Now those words caught something in her brain. They snagged and she tried to understand why. The one man grabbed her from the first and she stumbled up against him. He pushed her back and held her with one hand and with the other he was yanking at the buttons of her trousers. She pushed and landed on the ground, stunned and unsure.

"Don't" She said simply.

"Shuddup" The man grabbed her again. This time he held her so hard it hurt. Another man grabbed her other arm. She struggled and managed to get one arm free. She smashed her elbow into the face of one man but there was a third even as the second stumbled away cursing.

"No!" She managed to get her arm free again and this time she reached into her coat and grabbed the knife she had hidden there. She didn't know what she wanted to do, but she had done it before she really had a chance to thing. She put her small dagger in the man's throat. He was gagging. She stepped back as his hand released her, as it lifted to claw as his ruined throat. Her hand was warm with his blood, still clutching her dagger. He fell to the ground convulsing as he died. The other two were running showing 'Murder! Murder!'

She just looked down at the man in shock. Her stomach rolled and she threw up, coughing and gagging. She had killed people before, but this…this woke her up. Her buzz, that beautiful haze that usually blocked most of the pain was gone. She turned and ran towards her mother's home. She could think of nowhere else to go. She needed her mother, though it was very early in the morning. She needed her help.

She burst into the door and stumbled up the stairs. Her mother had heard the door open and was coming out of her room, a pistol in hand. When she saw it was just Mary she visibility relaxed, until she saw the knife still clutched in Mary's hands, the tears very clearly in her eyes.

"Mary what happened?" She asked and she took her daughter into her arms. Mary cried and she was sure for how long she stayed in her mother's arms, babbling out broken bits of what happened but her mother held her and whispered comforting words. After what felt like forever, they went to sit in the study and Mary told her the whole story clearly, though by the end she was sobbing again.

"I told you Mary" Her mother whispered. "I told you that it wouldn't work out, my sweet. I knew it would only cause you pain. Oh look at you, you're a mess…" She tried to fix some of Mary's hair but she slapped her mother's hand away.

Why was she saying that? Why wasn't she just…helping her? Her words were cruel. Mary didn't understand why she had come here, of all places, for comfort. There was no comfort here. It was an empty home with an empty woman living in it. Mary looked at her mother for a long moment, unsure of what to say to her. The realization hit her; she couldn't remain here – not in this city with so many painful memories. She had to leave. She looked at her mother and then at the door. It was clear…

"Mary…? Mary where are you going?"

"To reenlist" She told her. "I'm leaving. I'm not coming back."

"Mary…" Her mother grabbed her arm. She shook out of her hold. "Mary! You can't leave!"

"Try and make me stay, mother!" She stormed towards the stairs, the stairs where Mark died. Her mother came hurrying after her, still in her robe.

"Mar…Mark! Mark! You…You can't just leave!" She came down the steps after Mary and Mary paused, turning to look at her mother. Her mother's eyes were desperate, unsure of what her daughter meant to do.

"I can't just stay" She told her. "I can't stay here any longer. I'm sorry, mother" Then she opened the front door and walked away, shutting it firmly behind her. She closed herself off from that empty place, that empty woman and soon she would be leaving this empty city with her now empty heart.

A/N: Bear with me for one more chapter and I promise we'll be back to Edward and Mary! I hope I haven't confused you too much with this chapter and the one before it. Well you all know the drill, leave me reviews, let me know what you think, help me find the inspiration to get you another chapter!