Adrift

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Thank you to my wonderful reviewers - Ookamimomo, Scarlett and Conni, and to Rushysgirl who sent me a very kind email about my story. Your feedback continues to inspire me as I work towards a swiftly approaching conclusion to my tale. And again, the chapter to follow would not have been possible without the kind and devoted beta skills of RF, always keeping me on track and catching those annoying little mistakes!

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The Pearl cast a long dark shadow over the choppy water, blotting out the sun as the stern of the gig bumped against the hull. Without bothering to toss up a line, Barbossa grasped the first rung of the ladder and clambered up to the deck, determined to distance himself from both Elizabeth and William Turner, if only for a matter of minutes.

The journey back from the narrow sand bar had seemed interminable, made more so by the chilling silence that persisted between himself and the girl. He’d wordlessly accompanied Elizabeth and Jack on the brief voyage to meet with Beckett, unwilling to trust that Sparrow would play his part as it had previously been written. The wretch’s unpredictability was the wild card in the dubious hand they’d been dealt; as much as Hector would have preferred to stay on board the Pearl, he had to ensure that Jack didn’t start revising history in such a way that Hector ceased to be a part of it altogether.

Of course, what Jack would do and what he wouldn’t do was entirely out of Hector’s control now. As he’d expected, Elizabeth had handed Sparrow over to Jones in exchange for Turner and as much as Hector might have protested, he knew that she wouldn’t be dissuaded. In the end, he’d settled for serving as a sullen witness to the confrontation and keeping his thoughts to himself.

It had never occurred to Barbossa that in bringing Elizabeth back and giving her a chance to change her fate, he was laying the groundwork for Jack to do the very same. And there was no doubt in Hector’s mind that Sparrow had a plan in mind that would involve taking possession the Black Pearl rather than the Flying Dutchman. Jack’s scheming rankled to be sure, but nothing else wounded him so deeply as the sudden reversal of Elizabeth’s affections.

He could have forgiven the girl for fleeing his bed before he’d even awoken, but she’d cut him to the quick when she’d flushed with shame at the thought that others might have learned of their tryst. Passionate and loving she was behind closed doors, to be sure, but despite her assurances to the contrary, the dawn of a new day shed a harsh light on her conscience that she couldn’t bear. He wasn’t worthy enough to be acknowledged as her lover and the betrayal was one Hector could not accept with good grace.

Over the course of a few short hours, despair had gradually given way to anger and he’d honed the edge of his rage against his pain. Whereas Elizabeth’s death had once left him wishing the same fate for himself, Hector now was determined to reclaim his legacy and live whatever years were left him with unapologetic vengeance and vigour. For too long had he been behaving like some simpering, lovesick buffoon...there was no dignity in begging, no reward for pretending. Elizabeth’s choices and the consequences thereof were hers alone and thus no longer his concern.

He had the Pearl, Sao Feng’s chart and crew enough to man the ship; he could put the whole miserable lot of them to his rudder and never look back. All that he needed worry about was surviving the day, and he’d be damned if he’d allow anyone – anyone – to stand in the way of that end.

“We’ll use the Black Pearl as a flagship to lead the attack,” he heard Elizabeth saying to Turner as they scaled the gunwale and jumped down onto the deck behind him.

“Will we now?” Hector crossed his arms and smirked grimly as Calypso made her way up from below deck.

Unlike the previous ritual, the goddess was not bound but instead walked of her own accord up the stairs, Pintel respectfully guiding her by the hand and Ragetti carefully carrying the train of her gown so she’d not stumble on the uneven wooden steps. She regarded the crew with haughty disdain as she took her place amongst the unwashed masses.

“Barbossa! You can’t release her!” gasped Turner, halted in his advance as the crewmen drew their weapons and pointed them at the young man’s head.

“We have to give Jack a chance...” interjected Elizabeth, the sting of Barbossa’s double cross conveyed clearly by the hurt in her voice.

“Apologies, Yer Majesty!” Hector crowed sarcastically as he rounded on her. “Too long me fate has not been in me own hands.” He leaned in closer, letting her see the cold resolve in his eyes. “No longer.” Yanking hard at the cord around her neck until it snapped, he at last held in the key to Calypso’s freedom. He could ill afford to give Sparrow any kind of chance; if there was one certainty in the world, that was it.

Elizabeth pursed her lips and he saw her eyes begin to glisten, but he would not allow himself to be moved by her emotions. It was a weakness to show mercy and tenderness. No more would he indulge himself in uncharacteristic kindness.

“Have you assembled a party for me then, Hectah?” Calypso demanded, lifting her chin and glaring at him.

“More like a send-off fer ye, ‘though one far more modest than be yer due,” Hector answered, turning his back on Elizabeth and bowing deeply before the goddess. “But I beg yer patience as I make good on the bargain we struck and free ye from yer mortal form.”

There was a need for a much different approach than Barbossa had taken the last time he’d set about the same task. As the crew had made ready the Pearl for the fight ahead, he’d paid Calypso the courtesy of a visit in the brig. The moment he laid eyes on her in that dank and dim hold, she’d made it abundantly clear that she’d not tolerate his disrespect, and even less so in front of the crew.

True it was that she was vulnerable…by stepping back into the past with the rest of them, she’d been rendered mortal once again. What Hector knew, however, was that the original bargain struck between the two of them still held and he was obliged to release her should he wish to avoid the very worst kind of death. Moreover, she remembered not only the past but also the future, and he understood that once she was restored to her supernatural form, the beliefs and worshipful awe of the men surrounding her would replenish her powers in such a way that she’d prove nigh unstoppable. He for one had no intention of being a target for her wrath – at least, not any more than he’d been before. Deference remained the best strategy when dealing with eldritch creatures, and doubly so with this fickle deity.

Ragetti stood beside the goddess and held aloft the primitive bowl that contained the other talismans. Hector strode over and dropped both Jack’s nappy braid and Sao Feng’s bauble into the mix.

“You’re making a mistake, Captain!” shouted Turner. The lad had bunched his hands into fists as though ready to leap into the fray, armed guards or not.

“Nay, young Master Turner. I be fixin’ one!” Hector snapped.

“No,” Elizabeth said quietly to Turner. “Leave him be; he’s right.”

Bootstrap’s son was taken aback, almost as much as Barbossa himself. “Why...what on earth would make you think so?” stammered the boy, the confusion on his face shared by more than one man on the deck.

She shook her head and seemed uncertain. “I...I don’t know. But I’m positive. It’s what has to happen.”

For a heartbeat or two, only the squawking of gulls answered her revelation, and she glanced around nervously at the men around her, shrugging her shoulders before dropping her eyes to the deck. What she’d said, however, rattled Barbossa enough that he almost missed the question that Gibbs was asking him.

“What’s that?”

“I asked, be there some sort of rite or incantation?” Gibbs repeated, a gleam of excitement in his eye at the thought of yet more fodder for his tall tales.

“Aye. Items to be brought together...done. Items to be burned,” Hector went on, taking a smouldering fuse from one of the crewmen as Gibbs poured rum over top of the trinkets. The girl’s words had left him feeling uneasy and puzzled and he had to force himself to focus on the task at hand. “And someone must speak the words, ‘Calypso, I release ye from yer human bonds’."

Elizabeth was staring at him, her mouth parted slightly in surprise at the simplicity of the ceremony. “That’s it?”

“Hey!” burst out Pintel. “It’s me as said that first!”

Hector fixed him with a glare that had Pintel mumbling an apology and shuffling back out of the way. “T’was said it must be spoken as if to a...lover,” Barbossa said gruffly, fighting the urge to glance over his shoulder at Elizabeth as the last word left his lips. He’d not allow himself to think of her that way, not any more.

The men smiled and chuckled knowingly, but above the rabble he could have sworn he heard Elizabeth sigh sadly. Despite his vow to cast aside all sentiment, the faint sound tore at his heart all the same. Hector took a deep breath and moved up to stand at the goddess’s side. There was a job as needed doing and he’d not be distracted from it.

“Calypso,” he whispered roughly, caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers until she met his eyes. The goddess laid a dainty hand over his heart and pressed herself against him, an enigmatic smile gracing her face as she did so. Hector leaned close as though for a kiss, but instead closed his eyes and breathed against her lips, “I release ye from yer human bonds.”

“Oh, Hector…” Elizabeth gasped softly.

“Elizabeth?” Turner asked in stunned disbelief. “Since when...”

Any further questions about Elizabeth’s unprecedented familiarity with Barbossa were forgotten as contents of the bowl ignited into oddly writhing flames and the dish hovered on its own before the dark-skinned Obeah woman. Calypso’s eyes fluttered closed and she sucked in shuddering breaths of the violet-tinged smoke, her arms spreading out at her sides and her head thrown back as though caught in a moment of corporeal ecstasy.

“Tia Dalma!” Turner cried desperately, struggling against those restraining him. When the goddess ignored him, he said more softly, “Calypso.”

The bowl, by now filled with nothing more than cinders and ash, fell to the deck as Calypso turned her eyes to the lad. “When the Brethren Court first imprisoned you, who was it that told them how? Who was it that betrayed you?” Turner hissed.

A smirk tugged at one side of Calypso’s black-stained lips. “Do you t’ink, William Turnah, dat you have somet’ing to tell me dat I is not already knowing? Do you dare believe dat my mercy can be bought with such small coin? Dere is nuttin’ as happens dat I is not seeing. Too tricky by far it is to keep secrets from one such as I!”

Turner’s jaw dropped open in astonishment before he closed it again, his expression abashed as he glanced surreptitiously at Elizabeth for her reaction. Calypso laughed gaily and the sound of it boomed around them as she suddenly began to grow taller, the strain of her increasing weight snapping deck planks and causing the ship to list unsteadily from side to side.

“That ain’t what she said last time!” screamed Pintel indignantly, yanking on Ragetti’s shirt to drag him out of immediate danger.

“Well, ye can’t be messin’ with the threads of time and not have ‘em unravel some, I guess,” yelled back Ragetti, attempting to be heard above the roar as he scurried away in tow.

Members of the crew screamed out in terror, babbling in at least a dozen panicked languages. They retreated as far as they could on the cramped deck, but there was no place on board that would offer any of them an escape.

Turner stumbled back, pulling Elizabeth with him as he stared in shock at Calypso. The priestess stood high as the mizzen now, gloriously naked as she towered above the frightened men at her feet, her hands upon her hips and her face tilting up to the pale sun.

The boards creaked ominously as Barbossa pushed past the others to kneel at the goddess’s feet and bowed his head respectfully. Calypso owed him nothing and was likely inclined to grant the same. It was far more than he’d expected or deserved that she’d sent him back in the first place as he attempted to save Elizabeth’s soul; asking for further favours would probably not endear him in any way, especially when she figured out that he’d likely squandered his chance to reclaim his love.

“Calypso, I come before you as a servant, humble and contrite. I have fulfilled me vow, and now ask your favour. Spare meself, me ship, me crew, but unleash your fury upon those who dare pretend themselves your masters,” Hector said slyly, winking at her, “or mine.”

Her smile widened in response and she winked back at him. “Todos los tesoros del mar no puede traer de vuelta un momento perdido!” she chuckled, her deep voice ringing through the air around them. “No deseche mi regalo tan rápido, Barbossah!”

Before he could react to what she’d said, her body exploded into flocks of shore birds, cascades of multi-coloured fishes and waterfalls of sparkling seawater. The mist from her transformation painted a shimmering rainbow in the air around them as the echo of her laughter faded and all that could be heard was the distant screeches of the gulls and terns as the birds made good their escape from the battleground.

“Blimey!” coughed Flaherty, doused completely and looked as ragged as a rat pulled from a pickle barrel. “There’s no understandin’ women at all, mortals or goddesses! Always with the grand exit. Guess we thank our lucky stars t’weren’t crabs agin.”

Soaked to the skin and with his sodden feathers hanging pathetically from his now limp hat, Barbossa stepped up to the gunwale and peered apprehensively out over the water. Pintel came stumbling up beside him, eying at his captain furtively. “What’d the witch say, sir? That didn’t sound much like last time, neither.”

Hector tightened his hands upon the battered wooden rail, his jaw set. “All the treasures of the sea cannot bring back one lost moment. Do not discard my gift too quickly, Barbossa!” The message, delivered in his father’s tongue, was a mite too personal to share. That was especially true as he wasn’t yet prepared to admit that they’d likely ventured back to the past for naught, at least insofar as Elizabeth was concerned. “She didn’t condemn us to the black, watery depths again, if that what ye be askin’. All the same, I don’t believe we can be countin’ on her assistance. Like as not, she’ll set us the same odds as before and forced we’ll be to play it through to the end yet again.”

As though to second his sentiment, the wind whirled up and caught the dark sails of the Pearl, causing the canvas to snap sharply and rattle the riggings. Turner moved to stand at his side. “Guess your plan wasn’t so well thought out as you imagined, Barbossa,” he sneered. “Now we don’t even have her aboard to use as leverage with Jones.”

“She might still help us – who’s to say?” Elizabeth interjected angrily, roughly pulling the boy around to face her. “But even without Calypso, we can still fight!” Turner gave her an inscrutable look and pushed her hand away impatiently, shaking his head.

“We've an armada against us, and with the Dutchman, there's no chance,” Gibbs sighed heavily, looking back at the silhouettes of enemy ships on the horizon.

Barbossa scanned the skies above them, noting the darkening clouds and swirling winds. “Only a fool’s chance,” he muttered to himself, turning about and inadvertently catching Elizabeth’s eye. From her startled expression, he knew that she’d been close to saying the same thing. It was her as had originally said it, so no surprise there.

“Don’t ye think, Cap’n, that we might be better off retreating to the Cove and try holdin’ up for a bit?” Gibbs suggested hopefully. “Confident I be that we can get along, despite Jack’s grim prediction. At least I’d rate our chances better with the Brethren than with the Company.”

“As soon as we turned to flee, they’d pick us off from behind and we’d be done fer,” Hector stated firmly. “No, we’ve no choice but to face ‘em now while we have the strength in numbers, cannons at the ready and swords drawn.”

“So you’ve doomed us all, then?” blurted Turner, drawing his knife and sinking the blade deep into the wood of the gunwale in frustration. Eyes wide and teeth bared viciously, he spat, “Ever since we began this journey, you’ve taken us from bad to worse!”

“Watch yer mouth, boy!” cautioned Hector, his hand dropping to the butt of his pistol in warning. “The very day we started out, ye’ve cloaked yer true purpose from them as have called ye friend and in so doin’, placed all of us in danger of our very lives. Ye’ve worked against us at every turn and have turned a blind eye to the harm ye’ve inflicted , thinking that the ways justify the means. Pretend that your quest be noble if ye so choose, William Turner, but understand that ye’ve not fooled me! Yer no better a man than any of us and fer sure no better than yer father!”

Turner’s eyes blazed as he whipped his sword from its scabbard and brandished it in Hector’s face. “My father was an honourable man, sent to his fate on your say-so, you bastard! He stood up to nefarious traitors and paid for it!”

Elizabeth’s jian flew up and knocked Turner’s blade to the side. She stepped in between the two men and laid her hand on top of Hector’s before he could draw his gun. “I’d say that Barbossa and his crew have cleared that debt, Will. And ‘though your father might have objected to the mutiny that saw Jack lose the Pearl, don’t forget that Bill Turner proudly called himself ‘pirate’ and claimed just as many innocent lives in the name of greed as the men with whom he sailed! Not to put too fine a point on it, but I’d say you have an equal or greater share in leading us to this unfortunate circumstance. For the sake of one man, you’ve put me…” she swallowed hard but then lifted her chin stubbornly, “you’ve put all of us in a position where we must face impossible odds.”

Slowly Turner let the hand holding his weapon drop, clearly wounded by her words. “Elizabeth, I made a promise! I swore that I would see my father freed...”

“At any price?” Elizabeth asked quietly. “Is that what you were going to say?”

Understanding dawned on young Turner and all the fight went out of him. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know what else to do.” He sheathed his sword and leaned on the gunwale, his head hanging. “I never wanted to hurt you...I love you more than I can say.”

Another rumble of thunder punctuated the lad’s plaintive declaration, and the first spatters of rain began to fall from the tumultuous sky. “S’much as I hesitate to break up such a touchin’ scene,” Hector spat tetchily, “I be thinkin’ that our attention is better served elsewhere now. The enemy awaits, as ye might remember.” He couldn’t claim the girl as his own, but he was ill prepared to watch another man fawn over her...especially as he was dead certain he knew what was to occur during the battle.

Elizabeth seemed about to comfort Turner, but Gibbs stepped in front of her and drew her attention away from the sad tableau. “Miss Eliz...that is, Captain... King... Swann,” he wheedled uncertainly. “Ye know I’ve stood by ye on your way to find Jack. Helped ye bring him back and I’d do it again, but there’s no sense to be throwing our lives away now we’ve got him! I’d wager me own mother that Jack Sparrow has a plan of his own to be sure he’ll see the day through to the end, and he’d not want any different for the rest of us.”

Other members of the crew had gathered around Jack’s first mate, nodding their agreement. Elizabeth gazed around at them, narrowing her eyes. “What are you trying to say, Mr. Gibbs?”

“I’m sayin’ that it’s all well and good to be brave, but it’s just plain foolish to squander our lives in this way. The odds aren’t in our favour, young miss, and if you had sailed as many years as have I, you’d not be of a mind to die for the sake of provin’ a point of honour. Won’t make Norrington or yer father any less dead; it’ll just make the rest of us more so.”

Hector saw the familiar indignation on Elizabeth’s face and knew that Gibbs had stepped over the line, much as he had so long ago. “This is how you feel?” She glared around at the rest of them. “Is this how you all feel?” There were a few sheepish blushes and a great deal of attention paid to their feet by the few dozen men who’d surrounded Gibbs.

“You will listen to me. Listen!” Elizabeth climbed atop the gunwale and glared down at the humble men beneath her. Strands of sodden hair blew wildly across her face as the storm began to grow, but she ignored everything except for the faces turned up towards her.

“The Brethren will still be looking here to us, to the Black Pearl to lead, and what will they see? Frightened bilge rats aboard a derelict ship? Cowards who shirk their duties and scurry like roaches when a lamp is lit?”

Elizabeth straightened her back, glowering at the enemy ships that waited for the pirates to make the first move. “You could have lived as privateers, beholden to the company and to your king. Little more than slaves and doing nothing you’ve not been granted leave to do. But you wanted more than that...you wanted to set your own course, choose your own fate. And so you have, and here we are today...standing against the one man who would see that way of life disappear forever! They think we’ll run – they think that with the first shot across our bow, they will see us crumble before them and beg for mercy. But do you know what I see? I see free men, and freedom.”

“And I know in my heart that when they advance upon us, laughing up their sleeves at the poor wretches they believe us to be, the last thing the enemy will see is the flash of our cannons, they will hear the ring of our swords and they will know what we can do!” She paused, breathing deeply, her eyes wild and her words catching in her throat, and Hector remembered the exact moment that his love for her had been born. His heart began thundering despite the bitterness that nested within his chest. “By the sweat of our brows, and the strength of our backs, and the courage of our hearts, victory will be ours!” she went on, locking her eyes with Hector’s and gazing through to his very soul as she echoed his words of challenge, “Gentlemen, hoist the colours!”

“Hoist the colours,” came the whispers, growing louder with each man who repeated the cry. “Hoist the colours!” Crewmen leaped to retrieve Hector’s flag, knotting up the rope in preparation for hoisting it high upon the mast.

“The wind's on our side, boys, that's all we need!” sang Gibbs, won over by the passion of Elizabeth’s speech.

Holding tight to the line, Elizabeth shouted to the closest of the ships, “Hoist the colours!”

Battle cries were taken up across the water and a fierce din from each of the Brethren ships could be heard rising over the waves as one by one, pirate flags were raised and stretched out into the driving wind. After a moment, though, the fury of the storm built up and the final piece of blue sky disappeared from above them as the thunder rolled, drowning out the last jubilant voice as the sea turned rough. The clouds opened up and the rain began in earnest, drenching everyone who hadn’t already been doused by the water of the goddess’s metamorphosis. Despite the layers of clothes he wore, Barbossa shivered as the dampness seeped through to his skin and the wild winds chilled him further.

It was eerie watching parts of the past run themselves through again while at the same time, small details here and there had been altered through his actions and those of the others who had stepped back through the cursed mirror. The storm seemed no more than a setting in a familiar play, a mere backdrop to their story; the rage that had long ago fuelled the squall no longer existed. That didn’t make it less terrifying for those who were now caught in its clutches, but without the malice aforethought, it seemed somehow diminished.

Not that one would be able to tell it by the way the Pearl was being tossed on the waves, Hector noted, the crests catching and carrying her as they began their advance on Beckett’s fleet. Water poured up over the deck now and the spray whipped into the faces of the men as they struggled to keep the ship afloat and on course. Sparrow’s man Cotton had the wheel, but Barbossa knew the strength of the older sailor was not up to the unnatural tempest Calypso had unleashed. He was tempted to force the codger aside and take charge, but he stubbornly held back. Elizabeth had assumed command and the call was hers to make. Let her take the wheel and see what she could do, if she so desired.

As though sensing his thoughts, Elizabeth stumbled up the stairs and over to where he stood, Turner close on her heels. As she approached Hector, she impatiently waved the whelp off. “Will, lend a hand to Cotton! I must speak with the captain!” Reluctantly, the young man left them alone and staggered over to the helm as the ship rolled beneath his feet.

“Man the capstan....keep that powder dry!” cried Gibbs, barely making himself heard above the cacophony. “Saints above! Off the port side, men! It’s a maelstrom!”

Cries of fresh alarm were raised amongst the crew and panic flashed on Elizabeth’s face. “Captain…Hector! Please, I must say something before all is lost!” She reached out and snagged Barbossa’s sleeve, holding him fast so he’d not be able to ignore her plea.

“Ain’t the best time fer such!” he barked at her, half-heartedly trying to pull away.

“No! You have to know the truth…there may be no other time!” she insisted, her grip tightening. Rain streamed down her face and plastered her hair against her head, and she suddenly seemed every bit as young as he knew her to be. The ache in his chest grew deeper to see her so distressed, but there was little he could say to change what had occurred between them. When he didn’t respond, she took it as her cue to continue.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you this morning. Yes, I was angry when Jack revealed what had transpired between us, but not for the reasons you think.” A crash of thunder caused Elizabeth to jump, but she swallowed back her fear and went on. “What happened with us…the way you looked at me when you touched me…afterwards, I felt as though there had to be more there than just physical desire. But when Jack shared his crass remarks with the others, he made something special seem filthy, cheap and meaningless. Last night should have belonged just to you and me; it was too precious to lay bare like that.”

“Elizabeth…” he said, coming around to face her full on as his heart sank. He had been a fool; there was no way around it. He’d been too quick to judge, the very thing of which he’d so hastily accused the girl. How close had he come to wasting his last chance? Calypso had warned him of the very same, yet it took a frantic entreaty from Elizabeth Swann to get him to see the light.

She clenched his other arm desperately and gazed intently into his eyes. “I am not ashamed of what we shared, but I never want anyone thinking that I only came to you in order to satisfy some base, animalistic urge.” The waves pitched the Pearl to starboard and as Elizabeth lost her footing on the wet planks and fell against him, he slipped his arms around her waist to keep her safe. Although Hector couldn’t see them for the downpour, he was sure there were tears running down her cheeks. “If I regret anything,” she cried, “it’s that I left you this morning without telling you what last night meant to me or how much I wish we could have had more!”

“Fergive me, girl, fer allowin’ me temper to best me!” He pulled her close and clung to her tightly, intent on kissing her by way of showing profound regret for his stupidity. Before he could do so, a huge wave crashed over them and the Pearl rolled to her port side, sending them sprawling across the slippery deck. When they at last disentangled themselves from one another, Hector saw that the force of the water had thrown both Turner and Cotton far from the helm, and the wheel was spinning wildly out of control as his ship and crew were sucked closer towards the monstrous vortex.

The dark water churned before them, more grim and menacing with every turn. Each inch the ship gained on it saw the funnel sinking further and further until there was nothing at its core but blackness, nothing awaiting them but the frigid depths of the unforgiving ocean and the bleakest prospect of horrific death.

“Oh my God…Hector!” Elizabeth choked, struggling to regain her feet. “We need you at the helm!”

He helped her to a stand beside him and grinned down at her. “Aye, that be true!”

Barbossa charged over and grabbed a firm hold of the wheel, his muscles working and straining against the brutal force of the heaving ocean. He looked to where Elizabeth stood, dripping wet and smiling warmly, and he winked at her. Despite the desperate circumstances, hope was born anew in his heart and he intended to make sure that they’d have more – much more – than what they’d found in a solitary night. “Brace up the yards, ya cockeyed deck apes!” he hollered, the rekindled spark of passion warming him all the way to his scarred and battered soul. “Dyin' is a day worth livin' for!”

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Yes, I know you've been waiting for that fateful scene...but you'll have to wait until the next chapter to garner a bit of satisfaction there!