A/N: It has begun! the first chapter and its actually set in the right period of time... yay! So... right now, as I have no exams (besides english -_-) I'm kind of on a role with this fan fiction... it's really got me going :) which is why I'm gonna post this chapter today :) ... honestly, if I have a chapter, I'm going to load it... saying I'm going to set a time frame at the moment just feels ridiculous... so enjoy! feedback appreciated ^_^
Chapter 1:
I awoke to blinding bright light and the distinct sound of the sea.
Lying completely still, I allow my eyes to adjust to the sunlight streaming through the branches of what appears to be palm trees, before turning my head to the right to assess my surroundings. To my surprise, my cheek is cushioned by soft white sand, which stretches out onto a beach before meeting the soft waves of the sea, disrupted only by what appears to be the remains of cargo from a ship and the occasional lonesome tree.
Where the Hell am I? I think as I slowly sit up, resting my forehead on my knees when my head begins to pound, causing the world to spin. Right… someone knocked me out and I've ended up… where?
Raising my head, I watch the waves crash against the shore – a familiar sight for someone who grew up on the coast and with the birds swooping overhead, calling to one another and diving for the occasional fish and scuttling crab on the beach, it could have been home. Without a doubt, it's a beautiful sight.
Absolutely breathtaking...
I have officially fallen down the rabbit hole, I thought, turning my face back towards the sky. Or should I go Wizard of Oz here and say something like, 'we're not in Kansas anymore...'
"Where am I?" I yell, fisting the golden sand in frustration and watching the small grains run between the cracks of my fingers.
"You're in what I believe to be Cape Bonavista," someone answers.
"W-who said that?"
A sigh was my response. "Listen darling," the voice continued, an added edge that I could not decipher twisting his reply – I say his because the voice was deep and very obviously masculine, "would you mind just telling me who you are and whether you're an enemy?"
"If I was an enemy," I begin gradually, thinking before I spoke in case I said something I would regret, "why would I tell you that I'm an enemy?"
That seemed like a perfectly reasoned response; however, by the way the man grabbed my hair and held a pistol to my head, I assume my answer was quite poor in his opinion. "I don't want to kill a lady, but I will if you don't tell me what I want to know."
"Then you're going to have to kill me because I don't know where I am, what the fuck I'm doing," I pause and struggle in his grip, "but I do know that I wouldn't tell you shit even if I did know!"
There's a brief moment of silence before my captor lets slip a low chuckle.
Hmph, at least he finds me amusing.
"What's your name?"
He pauses and I can imagine a smile tugging at his lips, "you can at least tell me that, right?"
"Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine."
"I asked first," came his reply.
"A gentleman would introduce himself first before forcing a lady to announce herself," I respond primly, wincing slightly as the grip on my hair tightens.
Okay, new strategy. Don't piss the guy with the weapon off.
"Edward," he suddenly says, releasing his hold on my locks to my relief and surprise, "Edward Kenway."
"Kenway," it's familiar, although I can't determine why the name rings a bell. Shrugging it off, I carefully run a hand through my dishevelled locks and turn to look at 'Edward', a glare pasted across my face, "did you have to pull my hair."
Kenway turns back to me and smiles, "sorry Darling, had to get your attention some way."
He's handsome – that's the first coherent thought that flutters through my head after he's looked at me. Wild, blonde hair with a pair of grey-blue eyes, a strong jaw and not to mention a body that, even under the layers of clothes he wears, is obviously well built and packed with muscle. A body one could maintain and achieve with a lot of hard work and exercise which, judging from his sun-kissed skin (what I could see,) he certainly got. Maybe he did hard labour in the sun, or something.
As I continue to blankly stare, Edwards' smile widens and takes on a cocky edge – it's a nice smile, I admit, one that only adds to his appeal and it pisses me off even more.
"See something you like, darling?" he purrs.
Getting to my feet, I lower my eyes and clench my fists. If I look at him, not only will it inflate his ego, I worry my expression will tip him off to my plans. I want it to be surprise.
And when I sock him in the face, he's certainly astonished.
Although he doesn't fall on his ass – damn it! – his head does whip to one side and his blue eyes widen in shock, a hand quickly flying to his slowly reddening jaw.
Clutching the offending fist to my chest, I spin away from Kenway and suck on my lower lip, struggling to keep the vulgarities bubbling out of me as my fist throbs in pain. If I had known that punching his perfect face was going to hurt as much as it did, I would have aimed lower.
"Shit," I cry, unable to hold back the expletives any longer, "shit, fuck! Oh my god, fuck that hurt!"
"Why'd you punch me?" Kenway yells at me.
"Because you're an asshole," I scream back, performing little jumps to try and force my brain to compute something other than the agony in my right hand.
"I told you my name, didn't I?"
"After holding a gun to my head and pulling out clumps of my hair," I retort.
Kenway watches me for a moment and then grabs my hand, pulling it to his lips, which are soft and surprising gentle as they place a kiss on my throbbing knuckles, "if you're going to punch someone, do it properly."
God, he just doesn't know when to quit. But, that did feel rather nice... no! stop it!
I shake my head quickly and pull my hand away, trying to cover up my embarrassment and hid my flaming cheeks. "I did," I mumble, kicking the sand childishly.
We stare at each other and its then that I realise that I don't know how I want to proceed. Should I run? Should I ask him to help me? The latter seemed like the best plan, considering I didn't know where I would run to if I were to run away.
Kenway, obviously figuring that we were getting nowhere with what could only be described as a staring content, sighed and turned away, stowing his pistol at his hip. Studying the man before me further, I notice his clothes are similar to that of assassins and it's then that I realise that that's exactly what he is.
Idiot, I tell myself, for not realising sooner; so much for what I considered 'good observation' skills. Despite this, relief settles the butterflies I didn't realise were fluttering about in my stomach – this was something I knew, something familiar.
"You're an assassin?" it comes out as a question, although I meant for it to be a statement.
"What?"
"Nothing," I immediately respond, berating my stupidity. Rule number one, never reveal an assassins identity, even if the assassin is amongst comrades – bringing attention to the fact that I was standing beside an assassin was hardly a good idea. "You said that I was in Cape Bonavista," I continue, mentally berating myself further and desperate to change the subject, "where exactly is that?"
"The Caribbean," Edward responds, curiosity peaking his interest in me, "why do you ask?"
How the Hell did I end up in the Caribbean?!
"Did you kidnap me and take me here?" I ask sharply, struggling to keep my breathing and heartbeat steady, refusing to fall into panic.
"I found you passed out on the beach."
P-p-passed out?
"I need you're help."
"What?" Kenway frowns, folding his arms over his chest, "why should I help you? You punched me."
"Please," I beg, my voice breaking as tears threaten to fall, "please, help me. I don't know where I am, how I got here. I don't even know if I'm... please, I just need to get to city so I can get my bearings and contact some friends. So, please, please don't leave me here on my own."
At that, my voice cracks and I can no longer hold back the tears of panic. Hastily, I brush them away but Edward catches my hand – for the second time that day – and wipes away a tear, studying my tear-stained face with a weary expression.
"You don't want to get involved with me," he says, brushing away a strand of hair from my wet cheeks, "but I'll take you to Havana."
I stare at him in silent disbelief, surprised that the man who had earlier held a pistol to my head was willing to take me to a city, to look after me. It was… oddly kind and comforting. Offering a small smile, I nod my head in thanks and take a step back, wiping away the remaining tears.
"On one condition," he continues, that devilish smile returning to his lips, "you tell me your name."
The simple request astounds me and I can't help but giggle at the absurdity of it all - all of that screaming only to come back full circle where we began. Taking a deep breath and trusting my instincts which tell me to trust the man before me, I tentatively offer Edward Kenway my hand.
"Theresa North," I tell him, grasping his hand firmly, "but you can call me Tessa."