As man hath caused a blemish...

A/N: - ok so technically that last chapter was the, er, last chapter but I decided to write an epilogue considering a few of you seemed to want one. I'd just like to say a very warm and heartfelt thanks to all of you who've been so very kind enough to review, it's thanks to you lot that I've actually finished this So anyway, enough mush. Here you go- oh and keep in mind that I loathe writing endings.



Epilogue



Dear Mom (and Dad and Gran and siblings various)



I'm sorry for not getting in contact for so many years but my circumstances have changed somewhat. I was not kidnapped, nor murdered, nor raped nor any of the other horrible theories for my disappearance that you came up with. And no, I didn't run away either so stop blaming yourself for that. The old arguments just don't matter anymore. My priorities have changed



I wanted you to know that I'm safe and happy. Gran will be pleased to know I now have a lover - no I'm not getting married and yes, I'd still rather cut off my own ass and sit in vinegar than have children. He's very good to me and I know his heart's in the right place. His name's Davy. He's tall and handsome (extremely dishy mom, I mean it) and clever. He's a musician...amongst other things. We're safe in the salvaging business at the moment - don't bother looking for a ship or my name on a crew list, you won't find them...I wish I could tell you more but honestly I can't. Just be assured that I'm safe and happy and think about you every chance I get.



Know that I love you all and thank you for the support you've given me over the years. Please find enclosed a little money that I've earned, I thought it might help with the roof (that is, if you haven't fixed it already, its been a few years...) if no put it in a fund for Katey and John to go to college with or whatever. It's yours now. I love you and miss you desperately...I'll try to write again soon.



Love



Lenny



xXx



"Do you think this is any good?" I asked, handing him the little scrap of paper. It's the tenth year and we are ashore - who would have thought it'd be this easy to find a private room for us? The people around us don't seem to be able to see the fact that my Captain has a crab clawed hand or a tentacled beard or that I'm covered in black and white scales. Yes, the contract between Tia Dalma and Davy Jones was broken, but the Dutchman lives on, no one looks quite human - except for the new crewmen we have picked up - but no one changes any more either. What...disfigurements they had at the time of the breaking they keep, no better, no worse. Davy's sat opposite me, as close to the open fire as he can manage without actually sitting on it. He really does seem to display something of a paranoia about warmth. Any time its around he's drawn towards it, as if he's never truly physically warm. He puts his feet up on the table, peg leg crossing over boot and the only reason people turn to look is because of the racket that makes. He sits back - leaning closer to the fire - and reads. I watch him, there's a little frown marring his face as he reads, the tentacles of his beard curling lazily and -



"Musician?" He asks me with an amused glance,



"Code word for mass murdering, swash buckling, devil-may-care pirate" I reply dryly, watching him bite back on a smile, nodding at the barmaid who's been kind enough to bring his beer over to him rather than him having to limp over to her. She shoots me a smile before returning to whatever it is she usually does. It's the weirdest sight I've ever seen. Davy Jones - slightly unusual in his appearance - sitting in a pub surrounded by men in jeans and sweaters with 'SCOTLAND FOREVER' emblazoned on them, slot machines beep and flash, mobile phones are going off...the Scotland vs Wales match is on the TV and...he just sits there...reading...and looking as if he owns the place,



"Are you sure you want to send that money to them?" He asks as he hands it back, standing up for a stretch. I wince as something pops in his back, stuffing a handful of fifty pound notes into the little envelope, along with the letter,



"Ten years at sea, when am I going to have the occasion to spend it?" I ask and for the first time I notice a slightly Scottish twist to my perfect English accent. He snorts with amusement - probably at my expression - and offers me a hand up. I take it, smiling as the long tentacled finger curls up and around my arm, somewhat effectively trapping my hand in his before he snatches the letter off me,



"Collins!" He yells across the pub, uncaring of the people who turn to look at him. The first mate materialises beside us, pint in hand and - I fold up with giggles, tugging my hand out of the Captains - a bag of crisps. They both stare at me for a moment before turning away, "deliver this" Jones orders firmly as I straighten myself out,



"Aye sir" He nods and he's off, weaving away through the crowd - it's a good match on tv after all - Davy prods me gently in the direction of the stairs and I suddenly remember this place rents out rooms,



"You sneaky bugger" I murmur, under my breath of course, but the slight smirk I can see tells me he's heard, "I wanted to get some chocolate whilst we were out" I added, mock sulkily. He sighed - a wonderfully whiffly noise before yelling again,



"Collins! Chocolate!" That sets me off laughing all over again. Some formidable pirate huh? Though there is a rather cosy feeling when it comes to knowing he'd do anything for me...even if it was as embarrassing as yelling 'chocolate' over a crowded room. I'm being herded again towards the stairs...not that I mind exactly...



"But you didn't tell him what sort to get" I say, trying to swallow the giggles and not quite succeeding. There's that wicked glint in his eyes again but he forces a scowl,



"Don't push me, Spyce" He growls as I start to climb the stairs,



"Why not, Jones? You might like it" I stick my tongue out and he growls louder all of a sudden, making me yelp in surprise and chases me all the way up the stairs...a girl could get used to this.



Fini