A/N: Yet another long chapter ^~^ There's just so much to put in and I just can't help making the chapters longer than they need to be so again I apologise for the chapter's length! I'm halfway through Chapter 6... so maybe as a little treat I'll upload it on Saturday - I'm actually moving houses next Friday so I can't upload the next chapter that day and that Saturday, I'm out late with family so that days out of the question... so chapter 6 is definitely going to be uploaded earlier than normal :) Anyways, I had a lot of trouble with this chapter and I think the beginning is a little slow but at the same time, I'm proud to put up yet another chapter that I am proud to show you all - I wouldn't upload something if I didn't think it was up to my usual standards (which I put very high... I think I'm a perfectionist when it comes to writing -_-)

Also, thanks to the people who have been reviewing! I really appreciate the kind words you've given me, it truly means a lot and I hope I can live up to your expectations, therefore making every chapter as amazing or even more so, than the last ^_^ So, enjoy the next chapter everyone!

AshTree13 xoxo

Chapter 5:

"Let me off this goddamn ship!"

The chains that bind my arms behind my back, rub painfully at the insides of my wrists as I strain against the steadfast shackles. Chafing against the soft skin of my wrists, the metal cuffs form lacerations which painfully ooze blood from the fresh wounds. I know that pulling at the restraints will do me no good, but the knot of panic in my stomach urges forth the common instinct to flee from danger – though I'd rather have the 'fight' predisposition when it came to the fight-or-flight response, the honest truth was that I had no desire to remain within the brig of the wavering ship any longer than necessary. If only I had Edward; I was sure that he had gotten himself into worse situations and he would certainly know how to handle this particular one, I was certain of it. Yet, the length of a ship stretched between us and despite the fact that he was stowed in the bow of the very same vessel as I, it felt as if we were separate by miles.

We are so fucked, I think, out of breath from the futile exertion that was my attempt at escape. Ribbons of my hair fall into my eyes despite my desperate attempts to shake the loose strands out of my face and with a sigh of defeat, I close my eyes and will my body to still, my head resting against the wooden beam that I was tied to. Blinking back hot tears, I grit my teeth and try to ignore the leering stares of the Spanish soldiers, willing myself to remain calm but it was harder to achieve than I realised.

The ship then abruptly sways to one side, sending unfastened crates skidding down the length of the floor, colliding with the opposing wall of the vessel. Startled, and more than a little nauseous, I glance over at the group of soldiers and attempt to inquire as to what was occurring outside the confines of the ship, to make it lean so precariously to one side. However, my Spanish was hardly perfect – in fact, I barely managed to scrape through Spanish classes in High School, which resulted in a very limited and incredibly clunky vocabulary – and judging from the boisterous laughter of the men, I had obviously failed in my attempt at conversing in their native tongue. Frustrated, I repeat my question, albeit slowly, adding in English to substitute for the words I didn't know and then patiently waited for them to come up with a suitable response as they decoded my broken Spanish.

Pirates? Or just a storm? I wonder, as one soldier strolls towards me and drops a plate of what appears to be stale bread and rotten cheese before me.

"Supper," he grunts in rough English, obviously coming to realise that I would barely understand him if he spoke to me in his natural dialect, "eat. Fast. Storm is coming."

So just a storm.

"How the Hell do you expect me to consume my 'supper' with no utensils?" I ask aloud, lacing my words with a combination of sarcasm and frustration at their obvious overlook of my current situation, "it's not like I can use my hands to eat your 'delicious' meal."

Ignoring me, the man returns to his post by the doorway with his fellow men, choosing to converse with them rather than worry himself with how his prisoner was going to avoid starvation when she couldn't even pick up her food.

And I refuse to eat of the floor like a dog.

"Fine," I yell, kicking away the plate as the ship rolls again with the ferocious waves, "ignore me, you blundering idiot! It's not like I'm starving or anything."

"Shut up," the soldier snaps, shooting me a momentary glare before the ship once again sways dangerously close to one side, his own body wavering as it slams into the wooden doorway when attempting to balance. Yelling at the remaining men, a few of them set off towards the bow of the ship – I assume to check that Edward was secure in his own shackles – whilst he struggles over towards me.

Trembling, I swallow the rest of my insults and pull my knees to my chest, trying to ignore the desire to bring up what little food that remained in my stomach, as I turn my green eyes to the soldier's hazel. "Is something wrong?" I inquire bitterly, wishing that I could lash out and kick him where I knew it would hurt.

It was so tempting.

The man reaches behind me and inspects the cuffs, obviously concerned that with the rolling of the ships on the stormy waves they would magically come loose and I would be set free. Honestly, he really had nothing to worry about – despite how primitive these handcuffs were in comparison to the ones I had back home, they held tight and steady no matter what I did to them. The bastard was lucky that it was a bitch to break these, because he would be the first I would go after if I was every freed – particularly with that obnoxious, sneering smile as his eyes wandered over my body.

"See something you like?" I mock, curling my lips over my teeth with a snarl.

"If the ship goes down in with the storm," the man purrs in heavily accented english, the faint smell of alcohol on his breath, a single finger running down my cheek to my chin until he can grasp it and tilt my face towards his own. "It'd be a shame, you see, to lose such a pretty thing without having a taste."

Before I can spit out an insult, the soldier flames his lips against mine. In that same moment, I feel my brain kick into overdrive as it processes the current situation, waves of disgust rolling over me as I register his invasive movements. No, no, no, no! I scream in my head, my cries of protest drowned out by his mouth covering mine, his hands holding my face still as I struggle to pull away. Closing my eyes tightly, I bite down as hard as I can on his lips, satisfied when the man howls in pain and shock, jerking away from me as he struggles to contain the fresh blood trickling from his lacerated mouth.

"Bitch," he snarls, his hand connecting with my cheek in a sudden slap that whips my head to one side – the right side of my forehead colliding with the sturdy pole as he does so. Seeing stars and feeling bile rise in my throat, there is no way I can fend him off as he grabs my chin again to continue where he left off and my mounting terror escalates. But I do not cry out in fear, I refuse to show him how afraid I am, I refuse to appear weak before this bastard. I will be strong, even if I am terrified of what is to happen to me under the iron grip of this man and aboard this possibly floundering ship.

Yet, before his lips crash once again against my own, I feel the soldiers bulky fall jerk away from me as the cloudy image of a man locks him into a headlock; the soldiers face going purple with rage and what appears to be a lack of air, as his breaths turn desperate and short. As the soldiers' body goes limp from the lack of air to his lungs, I feel someone finger my aching wrists and tug at the shackles. I tense immediately, especially when the stranger begins to speak: "they gave her heavyweight restraints… makes me wonder what exactly you two were involved in to get you shipped off on this fleet, especially with these guards."

I hear the rattle of metal against metal before a voice answers the stranger in a familiar rough drawl; his recognisable figure filling my hazy vision, "just release her; it's a need to know basis and you do not need to know." The sharp tone of Edward's voice turns soft as he reaches for my chin and gently lifts it so my eyes can meet his azure ones, eyes that I had grown so accustomed to over our short acquaintanceship. "Are you okay, Tess?" he asks, his eyes furrowed in concern, "that bastard didn't hurt you? If he did, I'll kill him."

"It's Tessa, Kenway," I respond in a whisper to his apparent relief, "and don't kill him. It's not necessary, you already knocked him out."

"Always correcting me," Edward smiles, helping me to my feet and steadying my body as the ship rolls precariously, "are you sure that you're okay?"

Blinking with surprise at the kind tone of voice, I present him what I hope is a reassuring and tender smile to ease his worry. "I'm fine, Edward," I whisper, briefly touching his cheek to his own amazement, "thank you for your concern… but…"

"But?"

I reach over and, upon placing both my hands either side of his face, give his cheeks a hard pinch, "it's not like you to worry so much!" giggling, I stick my tongue out at the bewildered pirate and say teasingly, "who are you and what have you done with Edward Kenway?"

"Ah," with a confused half-grin, Edward cocks his head to one side and stares at me with bewilderment, "Tessa, what-?"

"Hurricane coming."

I jump at the new vocal addition startling me - and Edward - out of our little daydream, staring wide-eyed at the large and very muscular, African man before me – possibly a pirate, maybe a slave, I wouldn't be suprised considering the time but the most mentionable fact was that he was aboard the same ship as Edward and myself. Briefly, I wonder what landed him on this ship in the first place but as the ship rocks with the rough seas for what seems to be the 5th time since our meeting, I decide to file away the question for later.

That is, if there was a 'later' to be had.

"Christ, no wonder the seas are so rough," Edward murmurs, releasing me once he determines that I can stand on my own two feet – and, just so I can prove his assumptions correct, I grip the beam I was originally tied to so I don't fall on my ass before the two men. Spying his gear, he heads towards the weaponry and begins to return the appropriate arms to their holdings – the other prisoner doing the same – before turning to some discarded leather and adding it to his possessions before tossing me a spare pistol.

"What do I need this for?" I ask, although I already knew the answer.

"Just in case," came his reply to my thorough dismay.

"We're stealing a Brig," the stranger informs Edward.

"Easier said then done," Edward retorts, pulling up his assassin's hood so to hide his features. Heading towards me, he grabs one of my hands and shepherds me towards the ladder that will lead us to the deck of the ship, holding my waist as the ship rocks to keep my swaying form steady. "Just keep your head down," he whispers in my ear as I brace the sides of the ladder, "it's bound to be coming down quite heavy out there, what with the storm and all."

"How are we supposed to steal a Brig?" I inquire, placing one foot on the first rung and hoisting myself up, "I can only assume it's a large ship… and considering the fact that we are only three people, I don't foresee us getting anywhere."

"There are many prisoners held on these ships," the dark-skinned man replies, "set them free, and they'll sail with us, no question."

With a quick nod in his direction, I continue to pull myself up the ladder – which, believe me, is tough considering the fact that until a few moments ago, my arms had been firmly secured around a large beam and shackled at the wrists. It took a lot of effort not to cry out from the pain that reverberated along my arms, particularly at my wrists where fresh blood began to ooze once again from the cuts made by my restraints. Reaching the roof, I push against the door only to find myself immediately pelted by heavy rain and strong, gale-force winds that manage to see my hair coming loose from its messy braid, large clumps of the dark curls flying into my face and momentarily obscuring my vision.

Climbing out from the underbelly of the ship, I reach down and offer Edward my hand – which he declines – and then take some time to absorb my surroundings, dulled by the grey backdrop of a storm at sea and crowded with the Spanish fleet Torres had condemned us to. It may have been beautiful, if not for that. "Now what?" I yell over the heavy winds, impatiently brushing my red hair out of my eyes.

"Free what men we can, then find a fast ship to flee in," Edwards responds, his grey-blue eyes scanning the multitude of ships within the convoy.

"Aye," the stranger agrees, already making his way to the edge of our current transport, throwing one leg over its side. Glancing back at the pair of us, he points in the distance and says, "there's a Brig in this fleet. I'll make my way to it and see you there."

"Edward," I whisper tugging at his sleeve to catch his attention upon spying a patrolling Spanish solider who I knew, despite the heavy shield of rain, would easily manage to spot us on ships stern deck.

Quickly and efficiently, he tows me towards some covered crates to hide from view and watches out of the corner of his eye for the approaching soldier. I myself, watch his companion disappear over the side of the ship, just managing to hear the distinct sound of someone crashing into a large body of water. "What do we do now?" I ask, hoping to keep the fear out of my voice.

"Shhhh," Edward growls, edging closer to the end of the crate and emitting a light whistle which immediately captures the attention of the soldier.

The idiot! I think, tugging again at his sleeve to stop him from making more noise, the knowledge that we would be captured and imprisoned again upon discovery kicking my anxiety into overdrive. Yet, as always, the fool does not listen to me and instead tears his arm out of my grasp and whistles softly once more. Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT! I immediately panic, my heart pounding furiously in my chest to the point where I feel it will break out of my chest.

Then, just as the solider turns the corner of our hiding spot, Edward launches himself at the shocked solider and tackles him to the ground, drawing his blade and plunging his rapier deep into the man's stomach with his usual relentless efficiently.

What just happened?

"Do you still doubt me?" Edward asks in bemusement, chuckling when he catches my flabbergasted expression – I have no doubt that my eyes are wide with surprise and my mouth is hanging open in shock, in fact, I feel almost as if my expression rivals that of a cartoon character.

"Did you have to-"

"Kill him?" Edward finishes, raising a blond eyebrow, his voice laced with exasperation at my cluelessness, "you know that I do, Tess."

"Tessa," I pause, frowning slightly as I study his entertained expression, "and no, you don't. Why couldn't you just knock him out like you did the guys below deck?"

"I'm not even sure I knocked them out, Tess. Besides, we don't have time to argue this any further, we must get to the Brig of this fleet and escape from this godforsaken convoy before the storm really hits."

"But-" I begin.

"For god sakes Theresa," Edward growls, grabbing my shoulders in his tight grip, both the sudden movement and use of my full name stunning me into silence, "I refuse to let us die here. If I'm going to go to a watery grave, it won't be today and it certainly won't be aboard one of Torres's ships. So unless you want to die, shut up and just follow my lead, okay?"

For a moment all I can do is stare at Edward in stunned disbelief but then, it all seems to click – the enormity of the situation; the fact that I could very well die here without any answers to the multitude of questions I had since my arrival in Edward's world. I needed those answers and the only way I would get them was if I would survive this moment. So, steeling my nerves, I answer Edward with a quick nod and allow my companion to tug me forth into the unknown.

Straight into the eye of the storm.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Lay aboard, lads!"

Stumbling aboard the deck of the commandeered Brig – which, despite my imagination, was actually not that much larger than Bonnet's Schooner – I try not to slip as I hurry towards Edward, who is already at the helm of the ship, his eyes carefully studying the rescued pirates as the fling their exhausted bodies onto the deck of the vessel from the untameable sea.

"Save your singing for Davy Jones, you Jagbats!" Edward's fellow prisoner yells at the new crew, reappearing aboard the Brig's deck as earlier promised, "it's a hard wind coming!"

A hurricane… I think, swallowing the rising bile in the back of my throat, perfect, absolutely wonderful…

"The man speaks true," Edward bellows at the disorientated pirates who, with fear colouring their eyes at the prospect for what is to come, immediately spring into action, following Edward's commands. "You lot weigh anchor. As for the rest, half on the foremast and half at main! Let's outrun this hurricane!"

"Aye!" Come the crews' cries as they desperately begin pulling out ropes, securing cannons to the sides of the ship, as they ready the vessel for both the hurricane's deadly winds and possible attack from the accompanying ships of the convoy.

"Can we outrun a hurricane?" I inquire, gripping the wooden railing of the ship as it rocks dangerously side-to-side.

"We can try," came his response, "watch those Galleons, men! See they don't give us any trouble."

"Aye!"

"Galleons?" I ask the dark-skinned stranger in confusion, angling my face away from the pelting rain yet still managing to glance at the man from out of the corner of my eye.

"The larger ships of the fleet," he explains, pointing at the large vessels boarding our smaller Brig. "The little ones are gunboats," he points out, nodding over at the smaller ships powering towards us with what can only be described as stubborn determination as the rough seas ravage their smaller forms, "but neither should give us much hassle, the Galleons are far too slow in this kind of weather and the gunboats far too weak to survive out here for long."

"So why are we firing?" I scream as our ship emits a large roar as several cannons are fired at the smaller ships.

"Because they're firing back," Edward answered for the other man, as the smaller ships own artillery bombards out much more sturdier vessel, "bark any orders you think wise, mate. Tess, hold on tight and try not to get in the way."

Glaring at my companion, I stick out my tongue in response, but cry out at the ship is devastated by rapid a barrage of fire from the multitude of smaller ships quickly gaining on us.

"These men know their place," the stranger replies, one hand steadying my form as I nearly fall over from the sudden attack, "they'll see us home."

"Thank you," I say breathlessly, my eyes widening as I watch lightening set a ship ablaze. "Oh my God," I whisper, trembling with astonishment, "how the Hell are we going to survive this?"

"Rogue wave!" comes a cry from the front of the ship.

Jerking my head towards the bow, I feel my eyes widen in distress as a large wave rises up before our small Brig in what may appear to result in a devastating calamity. There was no way that this ship, no matter how sturdy it appeared to be, with it's wooden bow and delicate masts could survive that massive upsurge yet, to my disbelief, Edward turns the ship to face the rouge wave head on.

What is he doing! I think, bracing myself against the rail as the ship collides head on with the wave and then continues on with what seems to be only minor damage. How did he manage to do that?

"Waterspout!"

"What's a waterspout?" I scream, only to catch glimpse of large torrent of water spiralling out of the rough sea. "Oh," I whisper, feeling a combination of exhaustion and nausea, as the spout narrowly misses the delicate vessel.

Honestly, I found Edward's ability to steer the ship in this weather both astounding and admirable. It was clear that his abilities ranged far beyond being able to takedown a barrage of men – his capability as a ship's captain amazed me when we sailed with Bonnet but his talent here and now, navigating clear a multitude of waterspouts, rogue waves and perusing ships was simply, in one word, remarkable. He was definitely a pirate – no, a captain – no doubt about it.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of pushing through oncoming winds and wild waves and hysterical confusion abroad the wild seas, the water manages to settle and we are able to take a brief moment to gather our bearings and just… well… breathe.

Collapsing beside Edward's exhausted form, I use my shoulder to gently nudge his and once I had his attention, I learn over and press my lips against his cheek – tasting the mixture of salt from the sea spray and clean water from the rain as I did – smiling at his astonished look. "Thank you," I say, "despite the mess, you got us out of there in one piece."

For a moment, we simply stare at each other, drinking in each other's appearances before Edward gets to his feet, facing the storm we left behind, lightening flashing off in the near distance. "By God," he breathed, acknowledging his fellow prisoner with a nod as the muscular man strolls towards him, "we pulled this one straight from the teeth of Neptune… I'm Edward." He holds his hand out and immediately the man takes it, the two shaking, "much thanks for your aid back there."

"Adéwalé," the man introduces, releasing Edwards' hand, his eyes drifting from Edward's face to mine.

"Theresa North," I greet with a smile and a quick nod, "but you can me Tessa."

"Ever been to Nassau, Adéwalé?" Edward inquires, "I doubt Tessa's been."

"No I haven't," I reply, a note of curiosity hidden within my voice.

"Not yet," comes Adéwalé's response, a smile tugging at his lips.

"By God," Edward murmurs, leaning over the starboard side of the Brig, assessing the damage, "She took some knocks, didn't She?" He pauses, turning once more to face Adéwalé and myself, "I think I'll keep her."

"Keep her?" I say, getting to my feet with some assistance from Edward.

"All hands aft, Lads," he calls out to the crew, taking the helm in one hand and keeping my hand in the other, "we're taking this one home!"

"Home?" I find myself asking, frowning in confusion and glancing at Adéwalé's bemused expression, his heavily muscled arms folded firmly against his chest as he watches Edward take command.

"Home, Tessa," Edward smiles giving my hand a squeeze and to my great surprise, pulling my body to his side so I nestle against his wet but warm form, "we're going home."