I woke up lying on a cloud. It was alarming.
I snatched for the hilt of my sword, distrustful of the feeling of waking up in warmth and comfort. My weapon was absent; as were most of my clothes. My feelings of alarm and distrust tripled. My first objective was to find out where I was. Second objective: find a weapon. Finally, fight my way through anyone and anything standing in my way.
I sat up and scanned my surroundings sharply. Wherever I was, it was dark and hard to see. Someone took hold of my arm. Seizing the nearest hard object I found, I turned to my right and struck my attacker in the head with all my force.
"Christ, Zaina! Damn you and yer sure aim..."
Where I was turned out to be a dark bedroom in a well-furnished home, sitting in a comfortable bed. The weapon I had grabbed turned out to be an ornate candlestick. The person I had struck smartly in the face with it was Dark, whom had awoken to my panicked state and had grabbed my arm in an attempt to calm me.
Lowering the candlestick, I felt blindly in the darkness until I found his hand. Using it as a guide, I trekked up the length of his arm, to his shoulder and to his head, which I inspected for damage.
"You could have killed me!" he said dramatically, shifting away from me and threat of further injury.
"Hold still," I cajoled him. "It was accidental..."
He winced when my probing fingers touched the bruise on his temple. "I don't call a woman's fearsome swing to the side of my head 'accidental'," he replied caustically.
I decided to change the subject. "Where are we?"
In the darkened room, he was no more than a silhouette that shifted. "You don't know?"
I paused to consider. The spike of panic had subsided, and my memories of previous days had started to trickle back to me, answering the questions my alarmed mind had asked.
I had been so thoroughly shocked to wake up in a comfortable bed, and in a safe place to boot, that my mind had refused to believe it. I had expected to wake up in my bunk on the ship, or—far more likely—cold and damp in a dingy jail cell.
Truthfully, I hadn't expected to wake up at all.
But I had lived through my ordeal. I had survived. The realization of my survival over the past two days finally hit me: full and unrelentingly in the chest.
I started to sob. It seemed like the only reasonable thing to do.
"Z-zaina?" Dark's irritation evaporated into shocked concern. "What's the matter?"
Wracking sobs shook my entire body. I was only dimly aware of Dark next to me, murmuring reassurances. When my tears subsided, I was exhausted again. I flopped backwards into the pillows, breathing heavily.
Dark, mystified by the decidedly jarring experience of an outpouring of feminine emotion, awkwardly stroked my head.
"It's all right..." he muttered, sounding so uncertain and confused that I burst with laughter.
He snatched his hand away like my sudden insanity was infectious. "I'm alright," I told him breathlessly, reaching across the bedspread to link my hand in his. "Truly."
Dark grunted, unconvinced. He looped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him. Holding me tightly, probably to contain any further outbreaks of intense emotion, he leaned his head against my hair. I slid my arms around his naked torso in reply, and we held each other in shared relief.
Now that a quieter moment had presented itself, it was clear to both of us that we were each simply reprieved of worry for the other. Neither of us felt the need to continue conversation. It was enough to lie in each other's arms and watch the warm crimson light of approaching dawn trickle in through the gap in the curtains.
This time, the sight of morning light brought me immense peace of mind. I tightened my arms around Dark, and promptly fell asleep on a warm, soft cloud.
~oOo~
Upon awaking again in the darkened room, I was calmer. The distantly remembered comfort of a lifetime ago was still an odd feeling. Like stepping into an old pair of shoes and finding the sole imprints still match perfectly. I relaxed into the pillows, stretching my limbs with a sigh. I opened my eyes to see the muted canopy above the bed.
It felt good to lie there in comfort, safety, with the blankets covering me, the canopy above me, the curtains drawn, dousing the outside light. Judging from the greyish quality of the light, it was nearing midday. With another sigh, I tore my eyes away from the canopy and sat up, taking another look around. Dark was gone; his side of the bed was neatly made up.
My feet hit the floor. My toes curled in at the chill; I walked, with my arms crossed tightly around me, to the vanity. I rummaged through it to find what I was seeking: a candle. Lighting it, I continued my exploration of the room. The hearth hadn't been lit that morning, but it didn't surprise me. Whoever owned this house likely had few servants.
As for who owned the house, I hadn't a clue. I hadn't asked for a name in the chaos of our arrival. By my reckoning, it had only been two days since our escape from the Port Royal garrison. Considering Dark's condition, Sykes had taken us to the nearest safe house he knew of. It had taken more than a day to shake off our pursuers. After our arrival, all I had cared about was Dark. And sleep. There hadn't been time for anything else.
Shoving open the curtains, I had to shield myself from the light. When my eyes adjusted, the view they drank in was spectacular. The Caribbean sparkled at me, an idyllic bluish-green. Only the dusty white color of the beach separated the water from the darker, fuller green of the palms, rocking lazily in the ocean air. Another speck of colors on the beach caught my attention, and I chuckled quietly when I identified it.
After finding my clothes, I dressed quickly and slipped downstairs. The house was strangely empty, but I managed to navigate my way to the back of the house, where French doors opened onto a charming little porch facing the beach. From there it wasn't hard to traipse down to the water's edge.
~oOo~
"Interesting spot to spend your morning," I said as I approached.
Dark opened one eye and chuckled. "I was restless. Didn't want to wake you." He stretched luxuriously in the hammock he occupied, one arm behind his head, the other dragging in the powder-like sand. He'd discarded his boots and shirt, enjoying the sun's warmth like a content cat.
I sat on the hammock next to him, lifting my feet up to swing a little. "How's your shoulder?" I asked. My eyes flickered to the hastily dressed wound in the shoulder of his hanging arm.
"Bandage makes it itchy," he complained, closing his eyes again. I didn't miss the wince.
"And hard to sleep?" I prompted.
"Mm," he grunted ambiguously.
I reached over the gap to peel back the bandage very gently, asking, "Are you still feverish?"
He shrugged off my hand, hiding the inflamed bullet wound, still fresh. "Leave it," he muttered.
I frowned at him. "What's put you in such a foul mood?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Your injury?" I guessed, confused at his sour look. He scoffed and turned his head away. I caught on. "Or...the one who inflicted it." The slight tightening of his jaw told me I had guessed correctly.
"Yes, he who shall not be mentioned," Dark said.
"I didn't mention his name," I pointed out.
Dark let out a sigh through his teeth like a hiss. I tried changing the subject. "It's still inflamed, isn't it? We should get Kaspar to have a look at it."
"It doesn't hurt," Dark replied. "Did a piss-poor job of killing me, Duncan di—Ooww!"
"Hm, I suppose it does hurt," I said mildly, prodding the wound with my index finger.
Dark lurched backwards to avoid further attacks, spinning the hammock off balance. It flipped over and rudely tossed him face-first onto the sand. Dark clutched his shoulder with a groan.
"Determined to finish the job, are you?" he asked, his voice muffled.
Hiding my smile, I knelt down and helped him flip onto his back. Brushing the sand away from his bandages, I said, "Just reminding you to take care."
He raised a hand and pointed a defiant finger at me, eyes burning. "I'll take care next time I decide to trust the likes of you."
I smacked his hand away and then helped him back to his feet. A little weaker than usual, he leaned against me for support, holding me to his side. The heat from his suntanned skin burned through my light shirt. I pressed a hand against his forehead.
"We should get you out of the heat," I said. He mumbled in agreement. I deposited him on the hammock, then bent to retrieve his shirt and boots. While he dressed, I swept my hair back and wove it into a loose, manageable braid. It kept the heat off my face.
When he stood up I looped my arm around his waist, keeping him close. His hand slid across my back, squeezing my hip affectionately. We walked together back through the patch of jungle to the house, a short trek. Drawing up to the French doors of the rear porch, I saw that there was already someone waiting for us.
Leaning against the door frame, he raised a hand in greeting at our approach. A deep blue coat dropped to just above his knees, covering a dark vest and shirt, and tailored pants. On his head was a wide-brimmed hat with a blue feather to match his coat. His clothes were smart and clean, but his boots were well-worn, mended and dusty. His manner, as well, was too casual.
He let out an energetic laugh as we walked up, his easy smile revealing a hidden gold tooth.
It didn't take much for me to make an assessment. Definitely a pirate. A pirate with money.
With a closer look at his face, I recognized him. I had glimpsed him upon our arrival.
"Welcome back to the land of the living," he said to Dark, his tone more relieved than joking. "Thought we'd lose you for sure." He barked with laughter again.
Dark raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Do I know you?"
"Ah! We haven't had the pleasure." The man extended a hand, hazel eyes glinting. "Captain Barton. I'm your host." Dark shook his hand, introducing himself.
"I've heard the name Barton," Dark replied as our gracious host turned to me for introductions. "Your reputation precedes you."
"Nice to put a name to the face," I said, taking in his features. He had chestnut-colored hair, worn long, and a healthy amount of stubble gracing his strong chin, streaked with some respectable silver. Despite the sea-roughened wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth, he had a genuine grin and a jovial atmosphere surrounding him.
Barton shook my hand with a smile. "Ah! Zaina, is it? Glad to see you're both feeling better."
"Thank you," I said, after his vigorous handshake. "Could you tell us...where are we?" Barton's eyebrows shot up.
"We didn't have much time to look around during our arrival," Dark explained.
Our host laughed again, something he seemed to do often. "You're on my island, mate! A safe haven for all pirates in the Caribbean."
"Safe haven for pirates?" I repeated, slightly shocked.
Barton nodded. "Indeed. Welcome to Refuge Cay, mates. Enjoy the pirates' paradise."