Oh, hey! A new chapter! And right about on time for me! I've been busy. I promise, this is more a feat than it sounds.

Anyway. On with the story…

She keeps calm. How she does so is anyone's guess, but she keeps perfectly calm as she sheathes her sword, glances around, slips past Adrienne. She makes the trek across the deck and down the short flight of steps and then down the corridor, calm as can be. Even when she finally makes it to the relative safety of her cabin, she tries to keep her cool.

Logic. Think, Peg, she tells herself.

Adrienne won. How did she win? It's possible she'd gotten better with a sword, had simply had time to practice, but even still, she hadn't been at it as long as Emily. And she'd been sloppy at first, even more so than her men. But then she'd… Emily stalks over to the mirror hung on the wall and glares at her own reflection as she inspects the cut on her cheek. The area is swollen and bloodied, and the cut is long and deep. She'd given Emily that, and then she'd won.

And what can Emily do now? They made a bet, Emily lost, and her men are already beginning to worry of how well she's fairing as their captain of late. If she goes back on the whole thing now, she'll just be a liar and all the worse off for it.

Her fists clench as a familiar pressure tries to build in her gut. Goddess, and just when she'd been thinking she and Adrienne might manage something like friends…

"Emmy." A voice calls quietly, startling her. She whirls around – a little too quick. She ends up stumbling back a step, the rum and shock of losing added onto the pain of a nasty cut proving to be a bad combination.

Thankfully, it's only her brother come to check on her. She'd been expecting Adrienne to follow her down.

Joshy darts forward, brows furrowed and eyes wide in worry. "Come on." He says, quiet, taking her hand. He pulls her over to the window seat, gentle but persistent, and urges her to sit. She does, and watches as he opens a drawer of her desk and removes some cloth she keeps there for occasions like this one, as well as a bottle of cheap rum to help clean the wound. Then he climbs up to sit next to her, wetting the cloth with the rum. "Ready?" He asks, knowing she's aware it will hurt. She doesn't look at him, just closes her eyes and shakes her head. He sighs, sounding too grown up for a boy of just ten, and begins dabbing at the wound anyway. She winces, hissing in pain, and pulls away with a scowl. "Don't." He demands, sounding angry now. "This is just what you get."

The world slows down a moment as she remembers – being about Joshy's age and cleaning up her father after a bad night at a tavern. Their papa had never been one to pick fights, and rarely got into them, but it did happen on occasion, and she remembers cleaning a cut, him scowling at her and pulling away… "Papa!" She'd exclaimed, frustrated. "Stop it. It's just what you get, you know."

The eerie feeling of déjà vu has her stomach turning. Her hands shoot up to still Joshy's just as footsteps can be heard down the hallway, and sure enough, Adrienne appears in the doorway.

"Capitaine."

Emily glares and shoots to her feet…or, well, attempts to. Joshy pulls at her arm, again gentle but insistent as he sends a wary glance in Adrienne's direction. "Just let me…"

"Joshy…" She cuts him off, sharp at first, but she forces her tone to be more gentle. "What say you go get Miss Gibbs for me? She'll put me to rights. You should be going off to bed." He bites his lip, but nods, and heads out of the room. He sends one last wary glance up at Adrienne as he goes, and Emily waits until she can no longer hear him before shooting to her feet. "You've been planning this from the moment you found me locked up in that cell you – you miserable, scheming gargoyle!"

Adrienne plants a hand on her hip, eyebrows raised. "How could I have? I did not even know your ship would come for you!"

"I don't -," Emily scowls, shaking her head, "I don't know. But when you found me – you knew about my memory. You guessed I didn't know where I was."

"Perhaps you just looked lost." Adrienne replies, feigning innocence.

"Stop," Emily's hand inches towards her pistol; she forces herself to cross her arms instead, "stop lying. How did you cheat just now?"

Now the Frenchwoman looks indignant. "I did not cheat."

"You must've! You barely knew what you were doing, and then suddenly you were good enough to rival my papa!" A smirk plays at Adrienne lips as her hand slips up to play with the medallion around her neck again. Emily shoots forward and snatches the necklace up herself; Adrienne cries out softly as she's jerked forward. Emily sends a small jolt of magic down through her fingers to encompass the medallion in her hand, watching the bit of gold begin to glow in turn. "Magic." She growls, dropping the necklace and watching as Adrienne stumbles back. "I can feel it. What did it do to me?"

Footsteps sound down the hall again before Adrienne can answer, and Jo stalks into the room without bothering to knock, not that she ever does. She sends a death glare in Adrienne's direction, but slips right past her. "Sit." She tells Emily without preamble.

Emily does as she's told, if for no other reason than because both she and Jo end up miserable when at odds with each other, so they generally try not to end up at odds. The older woman comes to sit next to her and inspects her cheek, dabbing at it with the cloth Joshy had used. Emily winces but stays put.

"It'll scar. Nothing to be done about that. Might be able to make a neater job of it with a bit of magic, though."

Sighing, Emily shakes her head. Magic of any kind often comes with a price. Usually, it's a pretty direct one. With healing, the price is that the process takes time compared to other things done with magic. It's also painful, and draining for whoever's doing the healing. Besides, Emily still hates using magic and doesn't, generally, unless Jo deems it very necessary.

Jo huffs. "Well, you'll have to let me clean it up then."

Emily doesn't answer, pausing as she returns her attention to Adrienne. "Magic counts as cheating."

The Frenchwoman has wandered across the room and is looking over the books on Emily's shelves. She turns lazily, rolling her eyes. "I suspect you only say that because you lost."

"I wouldn't have lost if…what does it do? That necklace?" She demands.

"It ensures that I win." Adrienne replies simply, crossing her arms. "Usually. Easily, in your case."

Emily studies the Frenchwoman. "You were planning this all along."

Adrienne raises her brows, cool as ever. "Planning what, exactly, Capitaine? I simply ask that you allow me the chance to earn some respect, properly."

Emily glances at Jo, who looks uneasy as she watches them converse, but says nothing. "Fine." Jo's eyes widen, and she opens her mouth, but Emily holds up a hand, silencing her. "But I have conditions."

"Of course." Adrienne gives her this.

"First, you tell me whatever it is you haven't told me. I want to know exactly what's going on, and I know you know more." Adrienne nods. Emily goes on. "Second, you play nice with Jo. I did beat your men, after all. I hadn't expected to go against you."

"Of course, Capitaine." Adrienne concedes, nothing if not amiable.

Another pause. Emily's mind is a whirlwind of jumbled thoughts. What is she thinking here? She can't actually give this to Adrienne. Though, she did say it's all in good fun, she just wants to prove herself. But there's something wrong about all of this. Emily's crew have been faithful to her, loyal even at times she wouldn't have expected it, and yet none of them made a move to help her. Nor did they act any sort of bothered when Adrienne announced her end of the wager. Well, except for Riley, and her brother. Why just those two?

Emily's missing memories. What Jo had told her about the crew. Adrienne and her medallion. It's a puzzle to which she's missing pieces and she doesn't like it but nothing in Adrienne's demeanor is at all hostile, so Emily decides her best bet is to just go with it until she can get some actual answers.

"S'ppose…" She grumbles. It's painful to think, let alone say. "That title belongs to you for now." Gods above, had she just said that?

The triumphant grin that spreads Adrienne's lips is – disturbing. "Ah, and with that, I'll leave you to rest." And just like that, she is gone.

Emily stares at her doorway as the Frenchwoman disappears. After a moment, she huffs. "Oh, just come in already."

Riley comes to lean in the doorway, arms crossed. "I like her." Obviously referring to Adrienne.

Emily glares.

Jo picks up the rag, soaks it further with rum, and begins dabbing at Emily's cheek, vicious now. Emily supposes she deserves it, so just lets her, snatching the bottle from her hands to drink and hopefully quell the pain further. Not that Emily really needs any more rum, but she's half tempted to get good and drunk and really leave Adrienne to her own devices come morning... she smartly sets the bottle aside insead.

"I tried to warn you." Riley again.

"I know."

A pause. He probably wants an apology, but she doesn't do apologies, and he knows it, so all is silent.

"Good as it's going to get." Jo mutters finally, dabbing at Emily's cheek a final time. "We'll have to keep an eye on this one."

"Thanks." Emily replies, sincere.

Jo's got on that scowl-grimace of hers, but nods as she gets to her feet. Fiddling with the cloth in her hands a bit, she glares down at Emily. "I do hope no one expects I'll be calling her captain."

Emily half laughs, almost amused. "Miss Gibbs, I do think I'd be well and truly disappointed if you gave in that easily."

Jo just shakes her head before heading back out. Riley crosses the room once she's gone, closing the door behind him. Emily takes another pull from the bottle, sets it aside. Reaches up to undo the scarf holding her hair back, a silent invitation for Riley, who seats himself next to her and then pulls her to sit in his lap as he trails kisses down her neck and shoulder. She leans her head back and snakes a hand up to run through his hair…but he stops, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Your brother knows – well, they all know don't they?"

"About what? Us – this? So what if they do?" She shifts around a bit so she's facing him.

"Doesn't it bother you? That you're brother… he is only ten."

"Nearing eleven now. I was helping to care for my brother by the time I was ten, and I was much younger when I first caught my papa with another woman in his arms." That's cold of her, and because it's her brother they are talking about, she instantly regrets being so harsh. She softens. "I love my brother. But my papa and I are all he's got. Of course there were going to be things he'd come to understand too soon. I've – we've both – tried to protect him but it can't be helped." A pause, she runs a hand over Riley's chest, eyes cast downward. "Are you ashamed of me?"

"I think sometimes…" She leans in to trail kisses along his neck. His voice grows a little strained. "Sometimes I think I ought to be ashamed of myself for…" His hands shoot up to still hers. "Emily." She stays close, but glares at him. Even he isn't allowed to call her that anymore, though he sometimes does anyway. He meets the look with his own, steady. "What were you suggesting? When I tried to stop you fighting Captain LaBelle, you asked who's defense I was coming to, what were you suggesting?"

"You know what I was suggesting, don't pretend you don't." She snaps back, getting angry. "Adrienne is – she's pretty and French and her mother was one of their fancy, glorified whores. Spend enough time around her and she'll have you wrapped right 'round her finger just like…" Like she did with Alex. She can't bring herself to say it.

"Just like you do me?" Riley asks, dark.

She brings up a hand and slaps him, though not as hard as she could. The move is made less out of a want to hurt him and more out a need to stop him from crossing into such dangerous territory. He practically shoves her out of his lap and shoots to his feet, looking indignant instead of subdued. "Bloody hell, woman." And she forgets it's been some time now, and he doesn't so much sound a silly boy any more, and why would he? Learning to play her games with her, of course he's grown up.

She glares up at him. "You cheeky bilge rat. By the old gods, one of these days…"

"You'll have me spending a night in the brig? Except you can't now, can you," he says, tone mocking, "you just handed your ship right over to that pretty-French-daughter-of-a-whore whose guts you apparently hate!"

She shoots to her feet, beyond words…and pulls him forward with hands clutching his shirt. She's stronger than she looks. Their lips crash together as she keeps him close, forceful. He could protest. He never does. In fact, she thinks, he must enjoy it somehow, enjoy the way she takes charge. It's how it happened the first time, and he keeps coming back for more.

His hands trail down to fumble with the laces of her corset, until he grows frustrated and reaches for the knife she keeps hidden in it. The bit of leather falls away, and she's too preoccupied to be worried about the laces she'll need to replace. Her shirt joins it, followed promptly by his, and she backs him up to her bed. He slips a hand in her hair and tugs at it, bringing a halt to their fevered kissing as he breathes against her lips.

"I hate you." He near growls, a sound she's never heard from him before. It's coupled with a look he's never given her either, a hardness to his eyes that has her wondering how much he means it.

"Then leave." She challenges, shoulders back and chin held high, because there are rules here of her making and they say she's not really his anyway and there's no reason for her to be hurt by the outburst.

He opens his mouth, lets her go, almost looks like he wants to…but he doesn't, and her hands connect with his chest to push him back onto the bed and then she's crawling over him and…well, he doesn't interrupt her again.

.

She runs a hand through his ginger curls as he sleeps and thinks he looks an angel, so peaceful. She whispers near his ear, 'I'm sorry, love', because she'll dream of Alex this night (she always does when there's been rum). She only wishes the words would escape her lips with Riley awake to hear them. As it is, she knows they won't, so instead she curls into him and selfishly enjoys the warmth he provides as she, too, drifts off to sleep.

~-~-~-~
Present Day, Williamsburg, Colony of Virginia
~-~-~-~

"Alex, my boy! What do you think you're doing?" Mister James booms in his boisterous baritone as he enters the shop, a chilly wind accompanying him and blowing a few colorful leafs across the floor with it.

"S-sir?" Alex stutters a bit, startled enough he wobbles on the ladder he's perched atop, stocking shelves on the wall behind the counter.

"I seem to recall you having a standing engagement with my niece. You'll be late if you don't get a move on!" He scolds, but playful, eyes shining with amusement.

Alex climbs down off the ladder and peeks outside through the front window of the shop. He curses himself quietly when he sees the position the sun has taken up in the partially cloudy fall sky. How could he have forgotten? Imogene has him for tea now, every Wednesday and Sunday afternoon. He finds himself looking forward to it more with each day that passes.

"Well!" Mister James prods. "Didn't your mother ever teach you the dangers of keeping a woman waiting? Get going, boy!"

Alex slips around the counter with due haste, grabbing his coat and the weathered but much finer old hat Mister James had kindly handed down to him. "Right, sir. Aye – I mean, yes sir. On my way – I'll be on my way now." He stumbles over his words, trying to remember what Mister James has taught him of how to speak and conduct himself more like a gentleman. Gods, if he doesn't sound like just a boy. But then, Mister James has a way of making him feel like even more of one than he, perhaps, is. It's – nice, actually. To be allowed to be young.

Mister James opens the door for a woman and her daughter to enter the shop, and waves Alex forward. The woman sends him a smile in greeting, and the girl fairly beams, waving at him. He knows them, of course, if not by name than at least in passing. It would be hard for a shop boy working a general store not to at least have everyone's faces be familiar in a town such as this. He nods in greeting, tipping his hat. "Good afternoon, ladies." He slips past them in a few long strides and then he is out the door.

The air isn't so cold for this time of year, or so Mister James has told him, but for Alex it is almost biting already. He's beginning to wish he had that horse he and Emily had talked about. He's not used to these temperatures, and dreads the coming months as winter looms ever closer. Perhaps he'd best start thinking of investing in a thicker coat.

Emily. He falters in his determined strides as thoughts of her pervade his mind once again. Nine long months it's been, and still he cannot seem to forget her as he thinks he should. Certainly, as he wishes to by now. Something about this is beginning to make him feel guilty. And that something, though it's almost too much for him to admit to himself, might have a lot to do with Miss Imogene Ellsworth.

She and her mother have both been good to him, too good. The longer this goes on, the closer he gets to Imogene, the more he starts to think of what Laurel Norrington had told him the day he and the Ellsworth's had left Port Royal. Things are a little different here. People seem a touch more forgiving, and he's beginning to think that maybe…just maybe…Miss Norrington hadn't been wrong. But then, that brings him back to feeling guilty. If he's ever going to even come close to being worthy of sweet, pretty, delicate little Imogene, he can't still be thinking of his old life. He has to leave all that behind.

He has to leave Emily behind.

And why can't he? He doesn't doubt she's already moved well on from him. In fact, knowing her, she's probably enjoying herself all the more without him there to worry over her. By the time he'd left, he'd really just been driving her up the wall, he was sure of it. And hadn't half the battle between them been because of his…affinity…for women who weren't…

More guilt. He can't keep doing this. He loved Emily. He may never stop, but Emily had loved him and fallen for Riley, so why can't he do the same with Miss Ellsworth?

'Cause just look what Emily did to Riley.

He scolds himself. He won't think that way. He'd left. Is worlds away now with his whole life ahead of him and he would never, ever, do anything to hurt Miss Ellsworth.

"Alex!"

Her voice carries on the wind, whispers at his ears. He blinks out of his reverie and realizes – he's at the gate to the Ellsworth's estate. A few beautiful acres of farm land dotted with trees that are now turning all sorts of lovely, vibrant colors, spread out before him with an iron gate the only thing between him and it. The walk to get here is tedious long, but worth it always for the view – and more than worth it for her.

There's a stretch of road leading up to the house itself. Imogene is stood on the porch, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders as wayward strands of her light brown curls blow in the autumn breeze. She is waving him forward, perhaps with a touch more excitement than a young lady ought to express, but he certainly won't be the one to complain. He smiles as he pushes forward, his mind put at ease by the mere sight of her. Yes, he thinks, he would never forgive himself if she were harmed in some way. And for certain, he'd rather die than be the cause of that harm himself.

Emily herself had lamented not a few times that she seemed to do nothing better than ruin anything good. On this lovely fall day, for no particular reason other than because the decision had to be come to at some point, Alex decides it's high time he stopped letting her ruin anything for him.

~-~-~-~
Present Day, the Sea's Queen
~-~-~-~

Emily leaves Riley early the next morning, appearing above decks just as the sun is beginning to brighten the horizon. She's still not convinced that Adrienne would know the first thing about captaining a ship, but wants to be sure of what she's up against.

"Winds picking up again." She observes as the Frenchwoman comes up to greet her.

"So it would appear." She looks Emily over. "I wouldn't have expected to see you so early after a night like the last, I must admit."

Emily shrugs, nonchalant as she brings up a shiny red apple she'd slipped down to the galley to snatch. "I've had rougher nights."

Adrienne eyes her as she munches on the apple. "Hm. That would not surprise me either."

"Besides, I'm rather looking forward to watching you try and wake the boys below."

"You do not think they will listen?"

Emily snorts. "I'm not sure I've ever heard you shout loud enough to make them."

Adrienne just glares, and then spins on her heal, heading towards the deck housing the crew. Emily follows and leans in the doorway, biting into her apple again. She watches with amusement as Adrienne surveys the motley, snoring bunch of men – well, mostly men, and then her brother and the cabin boy off in the corner. Adrienne pauses, glances back at her, smirks, and then stalks further into the room. Emily shakes her head and brings the apple up again…

"Wake up you lazy, drunken ingrates!" Adrienne shouts, her voice so shrill it surpasses Ana's and is enough to have even Emily wincing. "Bougez! Allons-y! Now, come on, there's wind in the sails again and work to be done! Up!"

Emily watches, eyes wide, as her men scramble all at once to do as they're told. Even Joshy and the cabin boy, often the hardest to wake, are up and scrambling out of their hammocks already. Emily's not sure she's ever managed that so quick.

As they slip past her on their way above decks, Adrienne turns with one hand on her hip, vague amusement coloring her expression as she eyes up Emily and the apple which never quite made it to her mouth again. Emily starts a bit, glancing at her men as they pass her right up. Joshy doesn't even stop to say a quick good morning. Sending a scowl in Adrienne's direction, Emily finally takes another bite out of the apple before stalking after them.

…

"You were the one fool enough to make the bet." Jo tells her later that day, annoyed by Emily's sulking.

They're in her cabin. Emily had spent the entire morning hovering over Adrienne's shoulder, hoping she'd somehow prove inadequate, but the longer she watched the Frenchwoman, the more she was forced to admit she did, sort of, maybe…know what she was doing. Just…maybe.

"Oh – well – where were you last night, then, eh?" Emily replies, irritable. "Used to be you were the first in line to tell me if I were being stupid. And come on, I can't be the only one who wasn't even remotely expecting she'd win."

"Well, as often as you've been having those moments, I can scarce keep up anymore. I didn't know she'd win, but I daresay it's just what you get." The older woman is checking the cut on Emily's cheek, cleaning it again and trying to find a way to work a bandage over it.

Emily hisses as she dabs the cut with a rum-soaked cloth again, and glances at the older woman. Something in Jo's tone of voice… Coupled with the way Joshy had said it the night before… "What's that supposed to mean?"

There's a pause. The older woman scowls as she continues to work at Emily's cheek. "Forget it." She replies finally, setting the rag aside and getting up as if to leave.

"What – no!" Emily grabs the Jo's arm, pulling her back, demanding. "You – you agree with the crew, then?"

Jo's hand snakes up to bury itself in her raven curls as that scowl-grimace contorts her features. "Well, I…"

"Jo! Gods above, what is going on around here? I'm beginning to think I've just fell victim to the strangest mutiny I've ever heard of, and I think I'd almost feel better about it if Adrienne had dumped me on an island somewhere, at least then I'd have the consolation of the knowledge I was something of a threat!"

"Well – what do you expect?" Jo replies, with a vehemence that startles Emily. "First there were those few weeks after Alex left, and then the battle a few months after that where you were shot and – do you know, some of the boys, they thought you were drunk that night too, the way you lead us in even when two ships emerged out of the fog instead of just one."

Emily almost laughs outright for all this is so ridiculous. "I wasn't." She says, no vehemence or venom, just stating a fact. "And we won that battle, and their cargo got us such a shiny penny I didn't hear anyone complaining. Until now, apparently."

Jo shakes her head. "And then – the night you were captured."

A pause, Emily runs a hand through her hair. "What about the night I was captured?"

"You don't remember."

"No, I told you, it's all a blank."

"Three weeks easy, it was, before I got your letter." The older woman plows on. "Where were you in all that time?"

"I don't know. I can't remember anything, except for the dream I told you about."

"Except that doesn't add up either!" Jo bursts. "You've got magic. I've seen what you can do and I've been reading – do you know, there's not been a sorceress so powerful for over a century?"

"I hate using my magic. You know that."

"Enough that you wouldn't, even being in real trouble?"

"Jo, I don't even know what the hell you're suggesting anymore."

"I'm suggesting…well." The older woman sighs. "I'm not the only one thinking it, understand, just the only one brave enough to say it. I'm suggesting – we heard no word of you. None, for a few weeks. If someone had caught you, with the price the Admiral's got on your head, you'd be quite a prize. They'd be lining up to show off."

"So that's it, then. You think I disappeared. Deliberately?" Jo huffs, avoids Emily's eyes, and crosses her arms. Emily snorts, incredulous. "That is the stupidest theory I've ever heard! Why would I have?"

"The Admiral's ships…" Jo trails off a moment, then throws her shoulders back, hands planted on her hips now. "They've begun to pull out of Caribbean waters. Quick enough that everyone's noticed."

Emily blinks up at her as she processes this and tries to figure where the connection could possibly be – and then she realizes what Jo might mean and she laughs. Outright guffaws, because – no. "So, let me get this straight. You – you think I, what? Got captured, was going to, possibly, be sold off as some strange, perverted sort of slave, and got desperate enough…how would that even have gone? Me, begging my captors to turn me in to the Admiral so I could make a deal with him? Me – begging? For a deal with him." She continues to laugh, but it dies out as she realizes Jo's quite serious.

"You don't remember." She points out, as if Emily needs reminding. "And you were in Port Royal. Everyone knows the Admiral's bought up an estate there."

"And it's my sanity you've all been worried about of late? I feel the need to inform you that Riley's now the only one left with any sense 'round here, and that should really put you all to shame." She gets up and slips past Jo to snatch up the bottle – the same one from the night before, incidentally. She drinks, and curses the burn of the liquor. It tells her that this isn't some strange dream.

"I'd wager he agrees with the rest of us," Jo grumbles, "but close as you two've got, of course he'd never let on."

Emily slams the bottle back onto the desk and whirls around, fists clenched hard. "Miss Gibbs." Her alto dips down to a half growl. "Here's a promise for you. When I get the chance again, I'll keel haul every gods-damned one of you for this – starting with you!"

For a moment they just stare at each other, hurt and indignation reflected in both their eyes. "The way things are going now, I doubt I'll have anything to worry about." The older woman replies evenly, and then spins on her heel, storming out of Emily's cabin.

Emily watches her go and collapses back into her desk chair, reaching for the bottle again as she does, though all she does now is stare down at it blankly.

So much for sisters.

Alright, Peg, clever girl. We don't even have Jo on our side. How are we to get ourselves out of this one?

Reviews would be nice, but as always, I'm just glad you're still reading. :)

French:
Bougez! – Get moving!
Allons-y! – Let's go!