Your Reward

(This story is not related to the actually one going on, but rather what could've happened instead. Enjoy, Part 1 of who knows how many to come. If there is anything important said in French, it'll be translated.)

The rain pelted down in sheets onto the deck of The Veil. It's drops echoed loudly, like a symphony of dull bells hitting hard against the various surfaces of the deck. Ugly, pitiful rain. Cameron's sweat mixed in with the beads that wrapped themselves onto his body. His hands gripped to the helm tightly. There was no silver lining in the dark clouds above, relentlessly pounding down onto the insignificant fleck in the ocean.

"Captain, there's another one!" Walter Haert, co-commander of the ship, yelled beneath the torrent of rain.

"Oh mon dieu. Une tempête. Je déteste les tempêtes. Oh la mère de Marie..." Piers ran uselessly from the center of the deck to the nearest cover he could find, praying as he went. He was so scared, he couldn't utter an English word. That cover was the Captain's quarters. When he opened the door, another figure took his place as he ran inside.

Miranda Bogue, Governor's daughter, burst forth like a wave. Her voice was drowned out by a crack of thunder, quickly followed by a bright flash of lightning. Bright blue eyes, her ocean eyes, lit up with excitement. Not once before this day, in the entire three months she'd spent on board, had she encountered a storm like this one.

"Miranda, get back inside!" Cameron strayed away from the helm. The ship rocked dangerously, he grabbed the nearest railing he could to keep from falling over.

"No, I'm fine!" Miranda yelled back. In the few minutes she'd been standing on the deck, helping steady other men, pulling buckets and lose ropes out of the way, she was soaked head to toe. The blood red shirt she wore was one of Cameron's old ones, it stuck to her thin body. Even the boots on her feet were from another man in the crew. Had her hair not been so long, or had her face not been so girly, Cameron wouldn't have noticed her presence on the deck.

"This is an order, get inside with Piers." Cameron yelled over the wind and rain. She shook her head madly and continued to scurry on deck.

"No, I've got to help out!" Miranda replied. "I can help out!"

"Mira, please!" Cameron pleaded. The wind and pouring rain drowned out his voice. Each droplet impaled the ship with the force of a tiny bullet. "There's nothing you can do. The crew is trained for this, get back inside!"

"You always told me I was one of the crew!" She shouted back angrily. Underneath the water on her face, she must've been crying. The bags under her eyes were red and puffy from where the Captain could see. They'd never argued before, and now definitely was not the time.

"You are one of the crew, but there are some things I just can't let you do!" Cameron yelled. "Last time it stormed this badly, my Captain died. He died, Mira!"

"I'm not going to die, Cameron!" She responded. Miranda grabbed a rope at her feet, the nearest crewman helped her pull it tight.

"Miranda Bogue, get back inside the ship this instant!"

"Don't tell me what to do!" She was even more irritated this time.

Cameron gave up, and resorted to threats. He said he'd lock her up for a month. She didn't care.

He told her he'd hide all the rum. With a smile on her face, she said she'd tear down the ship looking.

Cameron strode out onto the deck and pulled grabbed her arm with a viselike grip. "I swear to GOD if you don't get back inside, I'm sending you home." She mustered every ounce of strength to yank herself free, and that's when it happened.

Her mouth hung open, she was going to yell again. A violent wave rocked the boat. Just as Miranda had pulled away, she lost her balance and fell off of the starboard side. Another wave shot the boat from behind and everything wrenched forward in one giant pull from the ocean. Before the crew could offer any assistance to their companion, Cameron had lost sight of her.

The last thing he remembered seeing was her hand disappear into the mouth of the ocean. It swallowed her whole.

"Miranda!" Cameron slipped on the deck and tumbled to the side. He gripped the railing until his knuckles burned white. He couldn't believe what just happened.

"Captain!" Ralph Haert, younger brother to Walter, yelled. His monstrous frame bounded across the deck to help his Captain stand back up.

"She just..." Cameron mumbled, Ralph didn't hear a word he said over the rain.

"Come on Captain, back to the helm!" Ralph picked him up, and pushed him in the right direction. Too stunned to do anything else, he dragged himself forward.

No!

Cameron had searched for days. Wherever Miranda landed, as he hoped she did, it couldn't be too far. The crew had entered the nearest port, only an hour after Miranda fell off the ship. If luck was on their side, she would have been swept up near here.

"Ahh! My petit fleur, she 'eez going to be found, Oui?." Piers locked his hands in front of his face and squeezed his eyes shut. Cameron rolled his own eyes in return.

"We'll be gone for no more than three days. It's not like I'm going to leave my own ship to rot in the port!" Cameron shouted.

He was clean. His usually tough and greasy locks had been combed back. Naturally, they curled slightly, but still a hellish black all the same. He'd taken the task upon himself to even trim the bit of a goatee he'd grown. Bears were ugly, mustaches didn't suit him, but his small goatee was beautiful.

"But Cap'n Lozier!" Hugh, an older man who served as a deck-mate, yelled out. "What are we supposed to do for three 'ole days?"

"Yeah Cap'n." Arthur, another deck-mate, followed in suit. "We can't just sit here, there's a bloody target on all of our heads!" He stopped to tap his greasy forehead. "A bounty! What if someone recognizes us?"

"Now, now, everyone!" Piers waved his arms around, and called attention to himself. "Monsieur Lozier has appointed our favorite George to stay on board--"

Outbursts of protest arose from the crew. Even Ralph and Walter Haert, Cameron's co-conspirators in all madness alike, slapped the dumfounded look off of their faces to cover how stunned they were. George was highly inexperienced in sailing, he was just the map man. Piers was the only calm soul on the ship. His English only went so far.

"All of you, shut up!" Cameron yelled. There was silence.

From the docks, people stared at the handsome Captain standing in the center of such a gangly crew.

"Look. I'm putting him in charge so at least he can navigate the ship if it accidentally sets out." Cameron explained. A curly black lock fell in his face. He brushed it aside. He wasn't used to being so clean. It wasn't bad, but it was bothersome to keep it that way.

"Does that mean..." A crew member mumbled from the crowd.

"We can go to the bars?!" Another finished his sentence for him, excitedly. "For three whole days?!"

The outbursts erupted louder than ever. It was as if the sailers were holy saints, first hearing about alcohol with the way they seemed to float on the deck. Hugh and Arthur hugged each other, close to tears out of a state of bliss. Three whole days of drinking could only be compared to finding a thousand dollars in your shoe, as if forgetting you put it there in the first place. It wasn't as if they hadn't had a drink before. Cameron slapped his forehead, wondering when he acquired the childish crew.

"Guys!" Cameron yelled. Groups of flustered women crowded the docks. Their fine gloved hands pawed at each other to be in front. Ruffles and folds of dresses interlaced, some of the girls nearly toppled over into the lapping water below. "This is ridiculous."

Cameron unbuckled the holster housed his favorite pistol. He shot his hand into the air. An unfamiliar cotton coat fell down his arm. The new mossy green coat he'd picked up chafed uncomfortably as he shot into the air. The crew shut their mouths.

The woman at the docks were even more riled up now. An invisible hand seemed to be waving an aphrodisiac, Cameron, as some new foreign toy their hungry eyes had never eaten before. Why, Cameron wondered, wouldn't they take his men instead? Why should they stare at the Captain, who'd murdered so many and been kind to so few? What made them cluster? Cameron did.

He knew it himself, but he was irresistible to women. His dark hair shrouded his face, in an apparent mystery. Deep eyes, as blue as the oceans he sailed, suggested many perilous travels that left his heart weary and longing for companionship. Cameron was tall, but he didn't tower. The kind face that sat on his shoulders was only thrown off for a moment by the scar that wrapped around the edge of his brow. Why was it that women saw him this way? He had no idea.

George appeared from the depths of the ship, The Veil, men crowded around him, tossing him into the air yelling cheers of joy. The mapmaker was clueless as to what the Captain had really meant when he said 'Watch the ship'. He now knew what it meant. 'Watch the men'. The ship wouldn't ever sail of on its own, the hull of the ship was scratched up from the storm. If it did sail off, it would sink.

Through cheering and armfuls of fists being thrown merrily towards the Captain, Cameron somehow managed to escape to the edge of his ship. With his two steady legs he hoisted himself onto the railing of the ship and perched like a bird on a windowsill. The women raged with excitement. He winked at them and smiled. His lips twisted into his trademark devil grin, the only surprise was the women. They swayed at the sight of the Captain. Rosy cheeks, pursed lips waiting for the man to jump down...

There was only one woman the Captain was after, and her head couldn't be seen among the group of women. Cameron frowned. What a disappointment.

Without waiting for the boardwalk to extend from the side of the ship, Cameron leaped onto the dock. He rolled in his landing and shot back up. A nice ungentlemanly start to his gentlemanly day. There was a bit of dust on his jacked. He brushed it off, so casually it was like he'd never done anything reckless in his life.

In a practiced voice he mumbled, just loud enough so the women could hear. "My. It looks like I've got some dirt on my new coat." Cameron turned up his chin and beamed at the women. He could tell with a glance their souls were internally fainting with just a glance at his smile. "You fine ladies wouldn't happen to know where a good man could wash up, maybe I could enjoy some good company as well?"

Cameron thought there had been fewer woman in the crowd. A stampede of hands plowed forward, each with a personally embroidered handkerchief. Whichever one he picked, a lovely woman would be guaranteed to whisk him away. Hopefully, 'J.M.' was the right choice.

"Good Afternoon, Mister..." Her eyes cut through before the rest of her slim figure could, dark black holes. Just looking at her cut deep into Cameron's skin, it sent waves of goosebumps across his body. She would have to do.

"Harlington." Cameron smiled pleasantly. The lie slipped off his tongue easily. He grabbed her hand and kissed it, she looked ready to fall over into his arms. The other women walked away, feeling rejected. Cameron internally apologized to them. He wouldn't do anything with this woman, he hated any woman who wanted pleasure from him. That nasty habit was something he picked up from having a whore as a mother. "And what shall I call you? You're ever so kind, lending me this to wipe off mud." Cameron vomited inside as she pulled herself closer to him.

This is gross. I feel so clean, my arms are itching from this damn wool. This woman wants me, I can see it in those pits of hers! Disgusting, someone get me out of here. Oh god, please don't let anyone be watching.

"Jane Morgan, and please, keep it." She smiled, too widely. Cameron mustered a grin and led her down the street.

She was really the one who led. Around corners and bends, past streets and vendors. The wool of Cameron's coat was on fire under the sun. He prayed his head didn't glisten with beads of sweat, he wanted to be decent for his reunion, if she was here. Cameron caught a glimpse of the bar. The Treasured Deep. One of the bars sat squarely on the hillside of Old Jamison, some hundred miles away. It's sister bar, here in the port, was all Cameron could think about. He stopped on the side of the street and abruptly pulled Jane along with him.

"Excuse me, darling. My sister works at the bar, right there." He daintily motioned his hand towards The Treasured Deep, on its corner of the road. "She's been expecting me, I can't keep her waiting."

Cameron thought he heard something that suspiciously sounded like, "Well I can't keep waiting either." breathe out of the woman's mouth, but she smiled and nodded.

He kissed her hand again, vomited one more time internally, and headed to the door. It creaked open, one of its hinges chipped off a piece of its copper bolt. The paint was chipped, inside and out, a worn navy blue. The smell of booze hit him like a brick wall, as cliche a phrase, it was the only way the Captain could describe the overwhelming scent of alcohol that swirled around his head.

What if she isn't here?

Cameron, who stood taller than the men sitting on old splintered stools around equally rough tables, scanned the crowd. A group of well dressed locals sat in a corner, laughing at something the youngest man said. They all wore thick wool overcoats, like Cameron's, but instead draped them over the backs of their stools. A group of pirates sat towards the bar stand at the back. Cameron could tell by the tattoo on one man's hand, a golden coin with a skull gaping open in the middle. Filch, a clever young man, he liked money and women. The complete opposite of Cameron, who detested most women's 'company' and hardly needed anything more than a good bottle of rum to keep him going.

Cameron decided it would be a good idea to avoid meeting Filch's eyes. If Filch recognized Cameron, the scar on his cheek marked him as the skilled Captain, he could blow the small bit of cover his crew had so carefully helped him craft. He had to hide long enough so he could find her.

He sat down, alone, in the darkest corner of the room and hung up his coat. A smiling woman brought him a tall glass of something dark and brown. Rum or beer, he drank it. Underneath the hot wool, he wore a silk vest and a simple white button up shirt. He was instantly relieved as the heat melted off of his body. He sighed in relief, and then groaned painfully.

The whole reason he was here in the first place crashed upon his conscience like a heavy lead cannonball. It had been days, nearly a week, since it happened. There was a storm and she came out from under the deck of the ship. Cameron warned her, he pleaded for her to come back inside. Let the crew handle it, he said. There's nothing you can do, he told her.

"Mira, please!" Cameron pleaded. The wind and pouring rain drowned out his voice. Each droplet impaled the ship with the force of a tiny bullet. "There's nothing you can do. The crew is trained for this, get back inside!"

"You always told me I was one of the crew!" She shouted back angrily. Underneath the water on her face, she must've been crying. The bags under her eyes were red and puffy from where the Captain could see. They'd never argued before, and now definitely was not the time.

"You are one of the crew, but there are some things I just can't let you do!" Cameron yelled. "Last time it stormed this badly, my Captain died. He died, Mira!"

"I'm not going to die, Cameron!" She responded. Miranda grabbed a rope at her feet, the nearest crewman helped her pull it tight.

"Miranda Bogue, get back inside the ship this instant!"

"Don't tell me what to do!" She was even more irritated this time.

Cameron gave up, and resorted to threats. He said he'd lock her up for a month. She didn't care.

He told her he'd hide all the rum. With a smile on her face, she said she'd tear down the ship looking.

Cameron strode out onto the deck and pulled grabbed her arm with a viselike grip. "I swear to GOD if you don't get back inside, I'm sending you home." She mustered every ounce of strength to yank herself free, and that's when it happened.

Her mouth hung open, she was going to yell again. A violent wave rocked the boat. Just as Miranda had pulled away, she lost her balance and fell off of the starboard side. Another wave shot the boat from behind and everything wrenched forward in one giant pull from the ocean. Before the crew could offer any assistance to their companion, Cameron had lost sight of her.

The last thing he remembered seeing was her hand disappear into the mouth of the ocean. It swallowed her whole.

God, he regretted everything he'd said. If only he'd just let her be. Then maybe she wouldn't be missing. This bar was his only hope. Maybe, he thought, she would go somewhere familiar. Miranda used to work at the sister bar, in Old Jamison. If she were to wash ashore, this was the nearest city, she would have to go somewhere. Her memories would click. She would go where things seemed familiar, like any human being would.

The entire first day was a waste of Cameron's time. The only thing he'd learned is just how much he was worth, half a million Scotts, and that Filch's gangs were everywhere. Crawling like rats, the town was infested with the rodents. He couldn't leave the bar without finding someone with the gold coin tattoo.

Every flash of brown hair that passed his table sent a surging swell of pain through his chest. It reminded him of her and how he'd let her drown. Cameron didn't deserve to be a Captain.

"Excuse me, can I sit?" A man, clad in nothing but rags and a striped bandana, pointed a grubby finger to the stool opposite of Cameron. The Captain nodded, but eyed him suspiciously.

Across the bar, a group of Filch's men were having a hard time staying in place. Cameron took a mental note of their unease. If anything happened, the Captain would bolt.

"Do you need something?" Cameron asked quietly. He wanted to think, think about her.

"Well..." The man wrung his filthy hands around a shining gold coin.

"Just tell me what you need." Cameron said kindly, only for a second averting his eyes from the gang of pirates.

Cameron's eyes flashed to where Filch himself sat earlier. The man moved in his line of sight. He was acting weird.

"He's gone." Cameron said.

"W-who's gone?" The man nervously searched the room. His eyes bugged from his head when he noticed the absence of Filch and his gang. "Oh my."

"Filch hired you." Cameron stated. With slits for eyes he looked the man up and down. He had to be a beggar, the way he held the coin so tightly gave it away.

"He said you'd give me another." The beggar held out his hand.

"He was obviously trying to get rid of you." Cameron scoffed at him. Still, his hands were out over the table. "What was Filch talking about? Before he ditched you?"

"He said he has something you want. Said you'd pay big to get 'er back. But he must'a just been trying to get rid of me I suppose..." The beggar looked sadly at the table.

"Her?" Cameron asked. "Did he say that specifically? Keep talking, and I'll give you all I've got in my pocket."

Cameron waved two gold coins out over the table.

"Yea' he did." The beggar said, his eyes twinkled with the prospect of gold. His mouth blabbed on, unaware that the value of his words was worth more than the Captain's ship as a whole, Rum included. "Miss Lozier she said her name was! Filch didn't know the famous Lozier had a daughter. The Cap'n probably doesn't even know himself!"

The beggar had no idea the famed Captain was sitting across the table.

"Anyway. He found her in here, waitin' tables and whatnot. She did real good here! She liked to do this thing with the plates, she would toss them in the air and manage to catch them all!" The beggar excitedly talked about all of the things she'd nearly dropped, not knowing she was just that clumsy.

"Yes, but where is she now?" Cameron interrupted the beggar's tale of the expensive China Miranda had nearly cracked in two. He smiled.

"It's gonna cost ya." The beggar held out his hands once more, the tips of his fingers twitched happily.

Cameron tossed him four golden coins. After calming the beggar down enough to talk again, his mouth ran faster than before. Miranda was just a block down the street in an old banking district. The first boarded up building with the skull on it, the beggar said, there was a cellar. Filch hid there, he said, and brought Miranda down there too.

The Captain wasted no time at all. He bumped out of his seat, sending the chair and the table crashing down. He wrenched the coat up from the floor of the bar. There was no time to spare, it was all too precious. Miranda needed him.

One big empty street stretched for blocks. The ocean's shore sat neatly along the backside of the building's to the Captain's left. Waves kissed the beaches multiple times a minute. Miranda washed up there, he thought, she had to have.

Filch was sitting on a roof with the ankles of his feet crossed over each other. He kept flexing his toes, which bothered Cameron immensely. His shoes sat, neglected, on the dirt road. Cameron recognized the boots as Miranda's. Filch rubbed his hands in his short dirty head of hair, and picked at his face with broken nails. Filch really was a dirty thief, in all aspects.

Cameron reminded himself over and over his pistol was in his belt and there were bullets to spare. His hands shook with fear, never before had he had this much to lose.

Miranda was near, Filch knew he knew, too. A gang of men wouldn't move away from a thick cellar door, the Captain wouldn't take his eyes away from it if he could help it. He was so close now.

"Boys. Bring her out." Filch ordered. His men didn't say a word as they opened the door to the cellar. It was quiet for a minute, the sound of waves lapping was the only sound that broke the tension.

Cameron glared at Filch. No words could describe his hatred, his fear, of the whole situation. There was no remedy but seeing her face, unharmed and alive, that would stop the shaking that took control of his body. Still shaking, he tossed his green coat aside and readied his hands for action.

"So, Captain. I hear you just left her to die!" Filch sang out, mocking him. "You left her to die in the ocean blue, to drown in the depths. Woman are bad luck after all! A Captain can hardly think straight when they're around. I know I can't."

"Shut your mouth, Filch." Cameron warned.

"She was so happy to see me." Filch smiled with an evil glint in his eyes. He uncrossed his legs and bent over the side of the building. "She almost did die, too. She was so glad I was there to revive her."

"Shut up." Cameron repeated.

"Oh how sweet she was. An innocent girl, lost at sea..." Filch licked the bottom of his lip. "She didn't warm up to me right away. It took some time before she'd let me get so close."

"I said to shut your mouth!" Cameron whipped out his gun with one fluid wave of his arm. Filch did the same, but pointed his at the cellar door.

Three heads emerged, one a foot shorter than the other two. Brown curls covered her face like a veil. Her ocean eyes stared at the ground. The last time the Captain had seen her she'd been wearing one of Cameron's old red shirts and a new pair of black trousers. They'd been ripped and torn so badly, he could hardly call her decent. His red shirt hung on her shoulders by a single strap. The left sleeve was missing entirely. Her feet were bare and bleeding. The nice black pants they'd taken so long to find were cut at the knee, with groups of holes missing in various places.

But she was alive. Even if the purple swelling of her eye meant she'd been hit, or the bruises on her bare arm meant she must've been thrown around. Cameron would pay her back for it all.

"We seem to be in a tough spot." Filch was singing again. The whole ordeal got his blood pumping, he stood on the building, almost dancing on the edge of the rooftop.

"Cameron..." Miranda's voice was a whisper, raspy from the salt water she had inhaled the night she nearly drowned.

"Mira, I am so sorry." Cameron stuttered. Now that he was standing so close, his mind drew a blank. There wasn't a thing in the world he could say to her that would make her understand how bad he felt. "Nothing, not a word, I didn't mean it."

"This is sweet and all, but I'm going to kill you all now." Filch interjected, he called one of his goons to grab Cameron. "You have a few options my Captain."

Cameron was held by the goon, but Cameron was stronger. He played the weak man, there was an ounce of a plan in his mind.

"Oh yeah?" Cameron lowered his gun. If he was right, the bullet would hit Filch's shin.

"I run this city. I've known you were coming for days. I heard your daughter here went missing." Filch eyed Miranda. Cameron hated the way he looked at her. If his eyes could eat her, they would, the way he stared. "I want the ransom on your head. Five hundred thousand Scotts? For one man? I couldn't even believe it!"

"Am I really worth that much?" Cameron lowered is gun again, ever so slightly. He already knew this, but he pretended to be surprised. This time the bullet would hit Filch's foot. Or it would miss and shatter the roof beneath his feet. Either would be fine.

"You're only good dead though, same goes to the crew." Filch continued. He waved his gun lazily in circles as he explained. "You're crew is stuck in the harbor, my men are watching them. So, make a choice. You can let the girl live, or you can save the crew. I'm sure the daughter of an esteemed pirate is worth just as much as her father. Maybe she knows more about your special cannons."

Miranda suddenly lost all hope. Her eyes closed as tears swelled up. Cameron averted his eyes to the dirt.

"Ha! You see Mira, may I call you that it's ever so sweet, your own father would abandon you!" Filch cackled madly. He repositioned his aim on Miranda.

"It's okay Cameron..." Miranda cried. She did the best she could to cover up her voice when it cracked, but the tears wouldn't stop flowing down her face.

"Miranda..." Cameron wouldn't look at her.

"Ahaha! He really is going to leave her!" Filch laughed so hard, he lost his footing on the roof. He slipped.

Cameron elbowed the man behind him before punching him in the nose. Blood poured out in a steady stream. His gun met the man guarding Miranda. He dropped to the floor. Miranda followed close behind, shaking in fear. Almost ready to die.

Cameron sprinted over to where Filch lay bent over a crate. At the ankle is foot was twisted. Dust swirled in the air between the two. Their guns pointed at each other, magnetically pulled together in a lock. Cameron held firm.

"She's not my daughter." Cameron spat. "And she's a part of the crew. I don't see any other option but to kill you."

Filch screamed before Cameron shot him square in the forehead. His body slouched onto the ground, where it would lay in eternal unrest.

Miranda lay weeping in the road when Cameron finally plucked up the courage to hold her close. With one hand wrapped tight around her back, he undid the bindings on her hand as they kneeled on the ground. The second she was free she wrapped herself around his shoulders and cried. Her mouth wailed and bit into his shoulder, injecting days of torturous pain into the spot she knew he'd been shot months ago. It was only fair.

"Mira. I am so sorry." Cameron whispered. He closed his eyes. "I never meant for this to happen."

"I thought you'd never find me." She cried, her arms hugged him closer. Her body pressed itself, molding to the shape of Cameron's chest, her legs couldn't find the strength to move her anywhere else. All of her strength held on to the back of his neck, and he could feel every ounce of her trying to stay with him.

"But I did." Cameron whispered. "You're safe now."

They sat there for some time, rocking back and forth, listening to the ocean's waves roll with them. Not a soul ventured down the street towards them, Cameron was at peace. Miranda was safe at last. Within a few more minutes, her arms collapsed off of Cameron, sliding down against the white sleeves of his shirt. Her hands trailed over the silky vest that he hated so much.

"You're all dressed up?" She managed to ask him. Her head slid against his shoulder, she was trying her best to keep her chin up, but she was drained.

"Yeah." Cameron chuckled. "This town is too wealthy for any pirate to just stroll on through. Jonas warned me the only place I could hide was in that bar."

"Treasured Deep?" She mumbled sleepily.

"Yeah. The crew helped me get some fancy clothes, I even left my nice Captain's coat behind." Cameron said. He wrapped his arms further around her to support her the best he could.

"Th's nice." She fell asleep, slouched against the Captain's chest.

"All for you." Cameron finished, lamely.

He cautiously picked her up, one arm below her knees, and the other cradled her head into his shoulder. The coat he'd abandoned at the beginning of the scuffle waited anxiously for Cameron to kick it up, and toss it over her like a blanket. He did, even if it was an itchy wool it would still keep her warmer than his own body could.

Through backroads and alleys Cameron calmly walked back to the ship. Miranda didn't stir the entire way back. Upon closer inspection, Cameron could see her lip was cut. She looked awful, covered in bruises.

The ship's mast crept silently over the sea's horizon as the dock came back into view. Everyone was there, waiting. They were huddled around something on the center of the deck, around the entire base of the mast. Cameron slipped onto the ship, quietly, and broke through the crowd of men. Miranda looked like an overgrown fabric bundled under his arm. He'd forgotten how small she was compared to the Captain.

"Cap'n" Some men muttered as he passed.

"Boys." He returned.

There was a group of ten men, maybe more, tied with a massive rope to keep them in place. Each one had a small branded mark of Filch on their arm. So, he hadn't been bluffing about killing the Captain's crew. Also, each one had been knocked out cold. They sat limply in their circle, tied together after their defeat.

"That's the last thing our M'randa touched." Arthur said proudly.

"So we tied up her captors with it." Hugh added.

"Well boys, she'll be happy to know." Cameron pulled back the top of his coat to reveal a sleeping Miranda tucked in his arms. The Captain smiled, a new smile, that was softly joyed. His cheeks reddened only a little. It didn't matter if he woke her now, she would probably understand. The Captain cheered, yelling, "My woman is back! The Fair Maiden of The Veil is found, boys!"

Miranda stirred, Cameron though he saw her lips twitch in a smile. "What's all this about a fair maiden?"

"Well, after searching for days, we finally found her." Cameron teased. She nestled her face against his chest. "She doesn't look so fair now, but we'll fix her up."

"That's good, isn't it?" Miranda played along.

"Yeah." Cameron laughed. "But the Maiden is the Captain's property, right's of the ship and all."

"No one owns the Maiden, stupid captain." Miranda smiled and shut her eyes again.

It was difficult to hold onto Miranda as the mass of the crew bunched around them. She was smiling though. Man after man reached out to pat her head, or shake the hand that pulled itself out from under the coat.

"I suppose not." Cameron said. "But, as right of the Captain's, I think it's only fair you get to pick where we go plundering next. How's that sound?"

"Pretty good, actually." Miranda agreed. Then winced. "Can we go find Piers now? I've sorta missed the thing he calls me, petit floor? Fleur?"

"Qu'est-ce qui est arrivé à ma petite fleur? Pourquoi est-elle donc battues? C'est tous vos Piers faute, si seulement tu avais attrapé quand elle a essayé de courir." Piers spoke so quickly, neither of the two heard a single thing he'd said. To compensante he smacked himself and smiled dumbly. It was enough of a translation.

"Piers, just help her." Cameron set down Miranda in his hammock for a bed. Her clothes were the same as when they'd rescued her the day before. She insisted she slept before getting near Piers.

Piers calmly looked her over. Her left arm was broken, her eye was swelled shut (she excitedly asked for an eyepatch, to look like a real pirate), and her lip would heal. Thankfully, she wasn't as hurt as Cameron thought. Just bruised a little.

"Ahem. Cameron." Piers coughed awkwardly into his fist. Cameron was pulled away from Miranda, who was able to sit up by herself.

"What?" Cameron asked, his eyebrows raised in question.

"She really needs to get out of those clothes. 'Eet is too salty, and bad for her skin." Piers cleared his throat, his face was turning red. "Her arm is broken. She will need some help. There is that, and her eye, you must apply this ointment. It will help with 'zee swelling."

"Piers... you're a doctor." Cameron was turning red now, too. "Can't you handle this?"

"Non! I am sorry!" Piers ran from the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Cameron blushed, bright as a tomato.

"Cameron?" Miranda's eyes were bugging, wondering what could've made Piers run so fast.

"Normally it's not a problem." Cameron explained. Miranda looked even more confused as he went on. "We're all guys, so if we have to strip for Piers, we just do."

"Oh." Miranda's face matched Cameron's now. She glanced at her arm. "I can do it by myself, it's okay."

"Really?" Cameron asked.

Miranda lifted her arm. A muffled scream slipped between her lips. She smiled, waving her arm around.

"See?" Miranda gritted her teeth.

"Here..." Cameron ruffled through a drawer and pulled out a large gray shirt. The sleeves could be rolled up, and it was just long enough so Miranda wouldn't have to worry about pants fitting properly. She probably had some hidden somewhere anyway.

As soon as Cameron was within arms length of Miranda, she shrunk into the hammock. Her head was shaking wildly, brown hairs whipping back and forth around her face.

"No!" Miranda shouted.

"I'll close my eyes!" Cameron yelled back. She didn't say anything more. Cameron shut his eyes and smiled awkwardly. "See?"

"I hope you can't." Miranda growled.

He heard the faint unclasping of the small plastic buttons. A ripple of sound flew off of the hammock onto the floor. The red shirt she had on now rested lightly on Cameron's foot.

"Here, over your head." Cameron held out one hand, Miranda grabbed it and pulled it to the top of her head. He patted the brown head of hair and chuckled. With his other hand he pulled the shirt over her head. The right side of it stretched before her arm popped through. Her left arm must've been sitting uselessly beneath the gray fabric, and her right arm wasn't going towards it.

"Got it yet?" Cameron asked, his eyes still shut tight.

"You can't open your eyes yet." Miranda mumbled.

Cameron carefully held open the left sleeve, lightly feeling for her arm. She winced when he hit it by accident. "Sorry." Eventually she tapped Cameron on the head.

"You can open now." Miranda teased.

"Now you close your eyes." Cameron ordered. He held a strange ointment Piers had left behind. "For your eye, I wouldn't want to poke you."

She didn't say anything when she shut her eyes. Cameron stared at her face. Beneath the puffy purple bruise, and the cut that blemished her face, she really was a pretty girl.

"Cameron?" She cracked open her good eye.

"No peeking."

She shut her eyes again.

Cameron put the ointment down and leaned his forehead against hers. Before she could reject him, he pressed his lips against hers, and wrapped his hands in her hair. The only thing he heard was her gasp, but she calmed down and grabbed at his back with her good hand.

From the minute they'd parted, Cameron wanted nothing more than for them to reunite, in that kiss, he claimed her as his own. He kissed her cheeks and held her close. Rocking back and forth with the ship he kissed her hair over and over.

"You suck at kissing." Miranda giggled.

"Shut up." Cameron blushed, pelting her again. "I was really worried."

"You said I get to pick where we head next, right?" She asked, out of the blue.

"Yeah..." Cameron felt like the small moment was ruined.

"Let's go to Jamison." Miranda smiled. "I'm sure Robert will be pleased to see us together."

Cameron laughed, and this time she kissed him. He promised they'd go, together to New Jamison.






(Translation:
What happened to my little flower? Why is she so battered? This is all your fault Piers, if only you'd grabbed her when she tried to run.

Sorry for the lame ending D: I can work harder.)