Star of the Sea

Chapter Sixteen - Truthstyle='color:#1B3B5E'>

Jack leaned back into the wind, letting the cool breeze brush over his face; he
would not let her see that he was bothered. He was Captain Jack Sparrow. He
loved and was loved but he had no ties to any one woman. He did not like ties.
Freedom was his love, that and the Pearl. And he had repeated that over and
over again. Until he had thought that he had believed it. But now he could see
her silhouetted in the moonlight and his chest felt odd. fuck, fuck this was
not bloody on. The next time he saw Tia Dalma he would be having a few words to
say to her, upsetting the apple cart like this. He muttered and mumbled under
his breath, hands moving without thought on the wheel as he watched.

She had kept to her cabin. Not coming up on deck until the sun was well down
and then to not speak with anyone, to stand in the bow and stare out over the
waves. He studied her now, knowing that she knew that he was there but not
caring, trying to force her to acknowledge him. Perhaps he should not have left
like that. Should have charmed her, made her laugh, shouted, got her drunk,
anything but walked out. He could not figure her out, bloody hell he could not
figure himself out lately. She had saved his life, it did not bother him as it
had, she knew things about him, his fears, and that alone should be enough to
keep well away from her. She was a mate of Tia’s, another reason to steer
clear. But no matter how many times he counted off the reasons that he should
stay away and why he had been justified in walking away he still felt odd.
Unsettled, sad, guilty. He did not like feeling like that, all out of kilter.
No matter how much rum he drank it did not go away either. He was at a loss, he
wanted one thing and then when he was near her he wanted another and every time
that happened things seemed to go even more to pot.

*

She chose not to turn to look at him. She could feel that he was frustrated,
angry, and that she could bear, but the sadness she felt made her want to weep.
She wondered what he felt sadness for, for what was or what he thought could
have been. She wondered if he thought about things like that, things beyond
freedom and a beckoning horizon. A future, a life beyond what they both were
now. That in its self would be impossible – for her at least. It had never
bothered her before, never seemed important, beyond a fleeting desire every
once in a while she had never cared. But now she wanted, yearned, desired and
there was nothing, not even with all the powers that she had at her command
that she could do to make it be. So she had tried to stay away from him.

But even with all her caution, all her resolve there had been encounters, and
with each one the tension had become worse. A chance meeting on the stairs, his
fingers reaching out to touch her face and she had been gone, falling into him
like she was drowning, his mouth, his hands on her body her only air. They had
crashed down the stairs and into her cabin, hands tearing at clothing, passion,
lust, whatever it was that drew them together rendering them senseless to
reason. Each time that same distance had slammed between them and all the
passion, the gentleness, the hope did not diminish that which separated.

Two weeks had seemed like two years, each day stretching out unbearably, each
night seeming to last an age. There may as well have been no one else on the
ship. The world seemed to have reduced to just the two, she was conscious of
him all the time. Of when he slept, when he drank himself into oblivion after
each disappointment and how he was beginning to think that she was doing this
deliberately. Shutting him out, that she had a choice and that she would not
make it. That was why she must keep away. Why there could be no more
encounters. She did not think she could bear it if he began to hate.

She looked into the waves, willing Calypso to show herself, throwing her
request out into the night as she had done on this night and every night
before. She knew that the Goddess was observing, watching, waiting but she had
refused to answer any of Maia’s summoning. She was tired of being a pawn in the
sea Goddess’ plans, angry she flung out a command, the words of appeal and
entreaty omitted in her frustration. This time the sea began to foam and the
familiar face appeared, unsmiling.

“Star of de Sea, you forget your manners child”

The rebuke was ignored “why are you doing this?”

The Goddess frowned, and anger shone in her eyes “do not be questioning, you
chose this path, you willingly took de power, de tasks and yet now you blame
all else but de one you should blame”

“And who is that then” Maia was angry, so angry that she did not fear, not
caring if she drew down upon her the wrath of a Goddess, “you know all, tell
me!”

Calypso laughed then, not with mirth but a cold chuckle “you have much still to
learn, them only be de one that can control you Star of de Sea and dat be you”

“Me?”

“Aye” Calypso’s face was calm now, compassionate almost “you chose to be as you
are, you can chose to undo but you must find de key.”

“You know though” the face of the Goddess was growing dimmer and Maia leaned
over the rail desperately, voice imploring, “you know what it is?”

“Aye I do and so do you child”

“No…I can’t find it and what I want…it is not allowed, not permitted”

This time Calypso laughed, “Who made dem rules? The only rules are to do what
is right, what is truth. Find your own rules, your own truths Star of de Sea.”
The face was gone now, words only echoing back “what is my truth is not
yours……..”

“Damn it” Maia cursed under her breath. Riddles, she hated riddles and that
seemed to be all that she was given. When the time is right all will be clear,
there is no such thing as coincidence, all is as it should be…for once she just
wanted a straight answer instead of the mystic mumbo jumbo. Bugger it, she was
going to go and get drunk. She wished that she had someone to keep her company,
but the crew all looked at her like she was about to sprout a second head so
companionship did not seem to be likely. Of course she had no rum, but she did
have some gold and she was at least on speaking terms with Anna Maria. She
would go find the other woman, buy some rum and drink herself into miserable
oblivion. In the words of a certain bloody Captain Jack Sparrow, rum was good.