Pirates of the Caribbean: Fate Intervenes

Unanswered Questions

My first memory.

Visions flashed through my eyes that I couldn't quite comprehend... images of violence and tentacles, crabs and chanting, love and betrayal. Things with sharp edges and bolts of steely color that both horrified and intrigued me with their harsh sounds. Warm light shot through my eyelids with colors of fire and heat and anxiety, the clanks of an eerie song being choked out by the groaning of the sprockets which brought forth the music itself.

I shot up, panting, being blinded by a fiery red sunrise peeking up from the eastern horizon and shooting a reflection against the glassy waves. My eyes watered with fear, strands of hair plastered against my forehead. Once again, I could make no sense of my nightmares, but I didn't need to.

I sprung to my chubby feet, sidestepping around my polished black shoes and lacy white socks sitting towards the edge of the cramped crows nest. Reaching my arms up and pouncing, I grasped desperately for the edge of the railing and clambered over, finding a rope to slowly cascade down to the deck. As my feet whacked against the floor, I scurried towards the Captain's Quarters desperately, tripping and falling over my clumsy frame. My shallow breathing rippled into whining sobs as I balanced on my tiptoes, feeling my muscles relieve a bit of fear as I turned the doorknob and creaked open the door.

"Sammy...?" My childish voice cried softly, and I saw his face shift from the palm of his hand to the door. He was sitting at his desk, studying the infernal circles of a chart, and the weariness that exhaustion had etched across his face was evident in his eyes.

Well, his eye, that is. The glossy, milky blue one on his right didn't really ever hold an expression.

"Aye, darlin'? Another bad dream?" I nodded my head vigorously in reply, ducking my eyes and pouting my cheeks.

He let out a sigh, fluttering giggles of admiration escaping his reluctant smile.

"Oh, you look pitiful. Come here," Giving me a big gesture of welcome with his arm, I accepted and sprinted over to his chair where he scooped me up with one strong arm and seated me on his lap. I squirmed around to face him and he used his thumb to sweep away the tears from my cheeks.

"Was it the same dream?"

"Aye. I just wish it would go away!"

"First off, you are a young lady. Yes sir or yes ma'am is what you say. Secondly, those dreams must scare ya somethin' fierce, but they're the only memories ya got from where ya came from and who ya are. You've gotta embrace 'em."

I huffed, blowing air through my flushed cheeks and looking at him from under my lashes, tracing his pearl scar with my fat finger and pulling at his beard with my other hand.

"But they don't tell me anything, Sam. They just scare me." His expression was full of compassion as if it hurt him to even know that his darling girl was being haunted by these dreams he couldn't stop.

Tired and worried as he was, he was still a handsome man. Scraggly beard, dead eye, scars and all, he was very tall and built and had a quiet care about him that made you enjoy his company. He was still powerful and strong, as it was before he fell ill. To this day I still miss those times, when I could gaze upon him and still see the man who raised me.

"I know they scare ya, dear. Come 'ere." Grasping me tighter, I rested my head under his chin and worked to calm myself, evening my gasps. He rocked back and forth calmly, keeping himself in rhythm with the swaying of the great Wicked Wench, and all my fears evaporated under the familiar scent of his shirt.

"And pirates say 'aye', not 'yes'." I grumbled, pouting and mocking the proper word.

"That's why I don't wantcha sayin' it. I chose this life, but it would taste a lie to say I wanted it fer you. I wantcha to have an opportunity to be more than what I am."