Sea Change

Sea Change Chapter One (NC-17)
Disclaimers: I own nothing. All characters and locations within are owned by other people unless specifically noted by me. This work of fiction contains coarse language, sexual situations, death, blood, some gore… Things which might be illegal for some people to read so if this applies to you, bugger off please thank you very much.

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… *glomp * Readers/Reviewers: This is the sequel to A Most Unusual Interest and yes, it has an OC—Myrtle. No, she’s not self insert and if she ever plunges into full fledged Mary Sue-dom, I think I’ll kill her. Twice. Just to be safe. This will be updated *at least* once per week to prevent the long drag out that happened to the first fic happening to this one…


She had never fired a gun before. This was the source of some amusement to the sailors gathered in a loose circle around her, urging her onward. “But isn’t it a bad idea to waste your ammunition?” she asked, trying to look cavalier and failing miserably. She held the heavy gun out to the nearest crewman, a young man named Bailey who seemed to be no older than she was, scraggly and blonde and raw-red from being in the sun. He was new, a run away from the Carolinas whom Anna Maria had taken on some weeks before. Myrtle had seen him being sick over the railing on several occasions, usually at night when they both had watch. She felt a kinship with him—they were both new to this and both seemed not to fit right with the rest of the crew. “Here, Bailey. You do it.”
He shook his head and smiled weakly, a bit green around the gills. “Naw… you do it. They asked you, after all…”
Myrtle glared at him briefly and took a deep breath. “I don’t think the captain would appreciate,” she began but was met with a chorus of cat calls and derisive shouting. Even on a ship captained by a woman, Myrtle found herself an oddity, a persona non grata. The men seemed to consider Anna Maria one of them, just lacking a piece of necessary equipment. The captain drank like a man, spoke like a man and, if what Myrtle heard was true, did all sorts of other things like a man, too. Not, she corrected herself mentally, that women and men should be judged differently and allowed to do different things merely on the basis of gender. She sniffed and held the pistol gingerly between two fingers, it’s weight threatening to make it fall from her grasp. “Fine,” she said. “Move.” The men parted, grinning and laughing and still being generally vulgar. Myrtle took a deep breath and gritted her teeth, gripping the pistol correctly, or as close to it as she could manage based on what Anna Maria had shown her the first day aboard The Sea Witch. The men had set up a rotten barrel, unfit for anything else, on the starboard railing. Myrtle braced herself against the port railing and raised her arm, wincing at the ache that was spreading up her fingers and wrist. I can do this, she thought to herself. Focus… She tried to block out how the canvas trousers made her legs itch and the feminine underthings she still wore bunch, she tried to ignore the heat of the sun on her back and the nauseating smell of pitch and human bodies pressing close. She remembered what Anna Maria had told her—don’t lift her shoulders, don’t close her eyes, don’t let the gun control her. She let out her pent up breath and fired, the loud report of the gun and the kick making her yelp and the shot go wild, her arm recoiling and a shooting pain flashing through her shoulder. “Ow…”
“WHO DID THAT?”
The men scattered as Anna Maria swung through the hatch, her eyes ablaze with anger. Myrtle stood almost alone, her fellow crewmates having found real jobs to do rather than goading her into proving herself. “Um, sorry,” she muttered, knowing it was no use trying to hide the gun. “I was practicing,” she said lamely, knowing how idiotic it sounded.
“If you *ever*,” Anna Maria seethed, “fire that on my ship again without a damned good reason, it had better be into your own head cause I’m pitching you over!” She stopped her stalking stride just short of Myrtle, so close the young woman could feel her breath on her face. “Understand?”
“Aye,” Myrtle replied softly, shaking just a little. She had a healthy respect for Anna Maria and not a little fear, especially as she suspected that the older woman was still very bitter about the getting her kidnapped and turned into a zombie.
Anna Maria stared into her eyes a moment longer before turning away sharply. “Get the oakum. You’ve got hull duty.”
Myrtle shuddered hard. Hull duty. She did not relish the idea of hanging over the side of the ship for any length of time but she knew better than to protest. “Yes, ma’am…”
Bailey chose that moment to come running into view, his sealegs finally under him as he skidded to a halt before Anna Maria. “ Ship! Big ship!” he panted, pointing starboard.
Anna Maria snarled and strode to the railing, yanking her spyglass from some interior pocket. Her snarl dissolved into a hiss of pleasure within a moment. “Hello, Jack,” she purred, snapping the glass closed. “Make ready to be boarded!” she shouted, turning away from the rail.
“Did you say,” Myrtle stammered, “Did you say Jack?”
“Aye,” Anna Maria snapped. “Jack Sparrow has come calling…”