His fingers clenched the grip of the pistol, pressing it in his palm. One footstep and another and another. With each one, his index twitched, inching toward the trigger and, with each one, he forced himself to take a deep breath. The footsteps stopped just on the other side of the door. Knock. Knock. A second passed and he heard Mary's voice on the other side. "Edward?" she called out softly. He kept silent and waited. The knob turned with a click and the door opened, offering the perfect cover. He couldn't see her, but he didn't need to. The sound of someone stepping into the cabin, a pause, a sharp intake of breath on the other side and footsteps rushing toward the center of the cabin.

She's in.

One push and the door slammed closed. Mary was kneeling by the opened floorboard. She tensed up, ready to jump to her feet and turn around. Mary was quick, but so was he and, this time, he had a couple of seconds on her. A couple of seconds were all he needed. His arm had wrapped around her neck, grappling her into a chokehold, before she could move. Without relaxing his grip on her neck, Edward pressed the cannon against her temple and dragged her away from the board he'd pried-open and from the weapons hidden there. She struggled against him and her hands clawed at his arms trying to loosen his grip. Edward felt her movements grow sluggish and the blood vessels tense in her neck. Any longer and he knew what would happen. He released the pressure on her throat and pushed her against the cabin wall. He watched her sagging against the wall, sputtering and coughing as the air returned to her lungs. For a moment, he was tempted to apologize. Instead, he took a step back, raised the pistol with both hands and aimed it at her head.

"If you take a single step toward me, I'll blow your brains out. Do you understand?" he asked, his finger tightening around the grip of the gun.
A nod.
"You're the one who attacked me in Connecticut?"
A second nod.
He felt his fingers shake ever so slightly around the handle of the gun and his throat tightened. She'd confessed. It was really her. "You already knew what we were after when you ran into Ed in Cuba."
She looked up at him, tears streaming from her eyes, and nodded again.
"Who had Tatcher killed?"
"Abstergo."
"Is that why they hired you?"
This time, Mary met his gaze and straightened up against the wall. Her face darkened, taking the intense, but unreadable expression he'd seen on her face a few times.
"I do not work for Abstergo." She'd detached each word, almost spitting them.
"So you worked against them?" he asked, his anger growing with each question.
Mary held her tongue for a moment. This silence was as good as a yes. "I was just trying to stop Abstergo from getting to the Jackdaw," she whispered.
The cargo Kenway was escorting, he thought. Kenway was right, maybe he would have been better off destroying whatever it was.
"Do you know where the wreck is?"
She shook her head. "I don't."
"But you thought Thatcher was getting too close and that's why you had him killed. That's it?"
"I had nothing to do with his death."
Edward couldn't believe it. She was still lying. He'd cornered her proof in hand and she was still determined to lie. He took a step toward her and pressed the gun right between her eyes. She froze as the cold metal touched her skin but, didn't look away.
"I don't believe you," he said in a trembling voice. "You want me to believe that the people who hired Tatcher to find the ship had more reason kill him than the one who admitted she was trying the stop us from finding it."
"Yes." There was not a trace of hesitation in her voice. "You've met the two people they sent."
A shiver ran along Edward's spine. He remembered them. Benjamin something and the man with shark's eyes- Roger Wood. He remembered the chill he felt in his veins the second he'd met the man, the inexplicable hatred and fear he'd felt.
"Then, explain. Say something that'll convince me that you had nothing to do with Tatcher's death!" His voice wavered between anger and supplication.
"I...I can't!" she said. "You wouldn't believe me or worst. I can't force you to see reality."
His jaw tightened in anger and exasperation. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he said through his teeth. "Can you give me proof or not?"
"I can't." Mary paused, closing her eyes to think. "But I know where you can find it."
A humorless chuckle escaped Edward's lips. "I'm not letting you lead me right into a trap."
Mary took a deep breath and leaned forward, pressing her forehead harder against the barrel of the gun. "Then press the trigger." She'd spoken in a flat, unwavering tone. "If you're sure I had something to do with Tatcher's death and that I'm leading you into a trap, you might as well shoot me now and get it over with." Mary held his gaze for a moment before closing her eyes.

Edward looked at her, undecided, as a thousand thoughts raced through his head. A small part of him couldn't help but admire the balls on her. Was this a trick? It didn't look like it, but he really couldn't trust himself when it came to guessing what she was thinking. Edward felt his finger twitch, unsure if he was about to move it closer or away from the trigger. He wanted her to be able to provide proof of her innocence so badly. Having lost a friend was enough, he didn't want to lose a second one. He searched her face for any sign of guilt or innocence, but, as always, whatever was going in that head of hers was just out of his reach. As always, it was like he was missing something.

"You're such a pain in the arse. Damned it, you should be the one to outlast me."

Edward blinked, and a different scene flashed before his eyes. He saw her sag against the wall as she had moments ago, her clothes morph into dirty rags and the wood of the cabin's wall, into cold stones. Edward saw her breath still and her eyes drained from all life. He shook the vision away, forcing himself to ignore the pit in his stomach. Even now, the thought of her dying was intolerable.

Edward sighed and lowered the pistol. As soon as the barrel broke no longer pressed to her head, her eyes flew opened as she inhaled sharply, almost gasping on the air. She wasn't sure I wouldn't shoot.

"I'll play along," he said. "But in the meantime, I can't trust you. I'll have to tie you up and lock you up the other cabin."
"No dirty joke about tying me up?" she replied with a dry chuckle.
He offered her a joyless smile in response. " 'Holding onto them until I'm sure you had nothing to do with my mentor's death."
"Fair enough."
"So where are we going."
"The Great Inagua."
Edward frowned. There was nothing much on that island, just a small village of barely 900 inhabitants and a salt company. "To Matthew Town?" he asked wondering what Mary hoped to find there.
"No." She shook her head. "There's an isolated cove to the north. That's where we need to go."

The wind howled in his ears as the canoe chewed the sea, spitting out globs of white foam in their path. Edward had taken the Captain Kidd as far into the cove as he could without risk of getting caught against a sandbank. He'd let Mary out of the cabin she was looked in and got into the rescue boat with her, having taken the precaution to tie her to her seat. High walls of rocks and wild vegetation surrounded the cove. Here civilization felt very far indeed.

A perfect place for an ambush, he noticed as he glances at the white sandy beach and wild forest they were heading toward. And yet, a surreal sense of safety and familiarity settled over him. He was sure he'd never been here, but, as insane and stupid as it sounded, entering the cove felt like returning home.

He cut the motor and let waves push the canoe on the last few meters. The boat hit the sand bed with a soft sound and Edward jumped off. The wet sand sticking between his toes and the waves reaching to lick his ankles as he did. He'd always loved the feeling.

"Can I get out or are you just gonna leave me here?" Mary asked, impatient.
"I really don't think you're in a position to talk to me like that," he said as he grabbed his boots, quickly putting them back on. "I can still change my mind."
He finished tying his shoelace and approached Mary, gun in hand. "Don't try anything," he warned as he undid the rope trying her in place, but leaving the one binding her wrists. Mary was agile and exiting the canoe even with her hands tied was unlikely to pose a problem for her, but still, he placed a hand on her elbow to stabilize her.

Mary looked at him surprised. "Em, Thanks," she, finally said.
Edward shrugged in response.
"What the fuck are we su-"

Of all the money that e'er I had
I spent it in good company
And all the harm I've ever done
Alas it was to none but me

The question died on his lips, killed by the sound of rowdy laughter and of a soft voice singing. His eyes scanned the deserted beach, hoping to find where the sound came from, but there was not a soul in sight. Nothing, but the remnants of an old village and after that a compact wall of vegetation that spread over the hills. Still, the singing continued.

And all I've done for want of wit
To mem'ry now I can't recall
So fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be to you all

This song. Where had he heard it before? His mind conjured the draft of images, too disjointed and confused to be fully formed memory. But what flashed before his eyes was felt familiar none the less. A lock of red hair moving in the ocean breeze, sails unfurling against the blue sky and a young girl smiling with flowers in her hands. He didn't know who that girl was, but he missed her.

Of all the comrades that e'er I had
They're sorry for my going away
And all the sweethearts that e'er I had
They'd wish me one more day to stay

He'd let go of Mary's arm and advanced on the beach without realising it. The soft melody wrapped around him and gripping him by the hand to lead him into the jungle. The voice making it incredibly difficult to remember what he'd been doing here in the first place. It was like he'd just stepped into a dream, into another life.

That I should rise and you should not,
I'll gently rise and I'll softly call,
Good night and joy be with you all.
Good night and joy be with you all.

The singing faded, and he was left alone in a clearing, unsure how exactly he'd found his way there. In front of him, stood three pillars of stone. Odd-looking things, old and weathered. The remnants of a Mayan construction.
"Is this what they called Mayan? Or is it Aztec?" It wasn't the same voice who had been singing softly. It was a man's. Just like the woman singing, he could have sworn he knew this voice from somewhere and, just like the woman singing, didn't have the faintest idea where he'd heard it.
"Are you good with riddles, Edward? Puzzles and ponderings and the like?" A second voice. One that was also familiar. Only this time he knew exactly who it belonged to. Mary. Edward circled the pillars slowly, running his fingers along the weathered stones and the moss that clung to them.
"No worse than the next man. Why?"
His gaze drifted away from the ancient pillars. There was no trace of the man he'd just heard speaking, but wasn't alone in the clearing anymore. Mary strutted around the clearing, studying his face like she was appraising him, with a sly smile dancing on her lips. Only, this Mary was different. No hiking kakis and T-shirt, no brown hair falling freely around her face down to her shoulders. This Mary was clad in a well-worn coat, bulky enough to hide her figure and made of leather and camelet. The leather boots on her feet were centuries behind on the current fashion. Then, there was her hair, constrained in a tight bun and a red bandana, from which only a couple wild braids had managed to escape. His eyes scanned her face lingering on the scar that ran from her forehead to her cheekbone. It took him several seconds to realise this scar wasn't normally there. It was odd. She was different, and, at the same time, she seemed more herself now than ever.
"I think you have a natural gift for it. The way you think and work. The way you understand the world." She spoke with aplomb and a splash of amusement in her voice, like someone who'd figured out life's greatest mystery and took pleasure in teasing the answer without giving them outright.
"Well, I don't know about that. You're talking in riddles now and I don't understand a word." This time, he was able to tell who Mary was talking with. He realized it as the last word rolled off his tongue. That was the voice who had spoken before: his. It had been his voice- was almost his voice.
"You are a gifted man, Edward," she said, amused and as if she'd read his mind and was pleased with his realisation. "This way. 've something else to show you."
The distant sound of alarms bell echoed in his mind. He ignored them-no, not ignored. Ignored implied a conscious choice, a level of agency he didn't have right now. Words flowed out of him. Gestures came on their own without any input from him. Whoever was at the helm, right now, wasn't Edward King. Not really.

They made their way through the overgrown vegetation, getting deeper into the jungle. Over their heads, a thick cover of branches and leafs stretched out like a roof. They cast their shadow on the ground, plunging the forest into relative darkness, only pierced by a few rays of sunshine here and there. An imposing rock formation barred their way. Not quite, Edward realised as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. There was something there. Half hidden behind moss and climbing plants. An opening in the rock.

"I've found something else just here," said Mary, moving the curtain of vegetation to enter. "I think you'll take to this secret much faster"
"Now this has the making of a mystery."
"It's good, isn't it." Her voice filled with barely contained amusement. If anyone could appreciate a mystery surely it was her. "Only wait 'til you see what lies at the end."

Following into her footsteps, he entered as well. At first, the entrance seemed to lead nowhere. They simply followed a large tunnel opened light by a few natural skylights, but before too long the path led them to a cave.
"Here we are. What do you think?"
Edward looked around, perplex. This wasn't an ordinary cave. Caves do not have cobbled floors, nor do they have supporting arches or iron and stone. An old escape tunnel for a fort, maybe? Was there a fort here? He couldn't remember.
"I think Monsieur Ducasse was a man of many secrets." Why did I say that? He wondered as the words came without hesitation. He had no idea who this Ducasse was supposed to be.
"Aye, and look here. A solid staircase leading good knows where." Mary rushed up the stairs before her sentence was even finished. "What do you suppose lies at the top?"
"From what I knew of Ducasse, I wouldn't be surprised to find an eclectic instrument of torture and villainy. An iron maiden or a collection of thumbs screws."
"Or a pear of anguish," added Mary with a playfulness that was contagious, and Edward laughed. It reminded Edward of time spent with friends exploring ruins in the countryside when he was a young child. Except, he'd never lived in the country, nor did anyone take him to explore ruins as a child. So how could he remember it so vividly? Who's memory was it if not his own?

Edward reached the top of the stairs a few seconds behind Mary. He found himself in a grand villa well stocked with refined furniture, a decor that was foreign and familiar at the same time. He also found himself alone. Where had Kidd gone?

He blinked and when he opened his eyes, the room around him had changed. The paint on the walls had chipped away in part and was stained with humidity, the draperies and tapestries were now torn in places and a thick blanket of dust covered the floors and furniture. In an instant, the room had been ravaged by time as if three centuries had passed in the blink of an eye. Was this even real? He couldn't tell anymore. He wondered through the rooms of the villa, disoriented and lost. With each blinks the house seemed to make jumps through Time, going from what it used to be to what it was now until he couldn't tell where or when he was. Until he wasn't even sure who he was.

He stumbled in an old bedroom and his eyes caught his reflection in a floor-length mirror that had someone survived the centuries. His reflection stared down at him, smiling like he owned the place. Fucking ignorant prick.

"You haven't figured it out, yet" his reflection mocked. "Still don't remember? I would have thought coming back home would have jogged your memory."

Home?

He had thought it when arriving on the island, but this couldn't be home. Not once, in his life, had he been here. Not once-

Not in this life, no.

Pain flashed in his brain hard and hot and with it, memories that had long been out of his reach. Hundreds of moments rushed in his head, eager to flee to confinement of his subconscious. Their return was brutal. His knees buckled under the weight of a lifetime of memories and he collapsed to the ground. It was too much. His skull throbbed under the pressure as memories pilled in until it felt like it would break. Old memories and new ones clashed together, threatening to destroy each other on impact and to shatter him in the process.

Then, it all grew quiet.

The pain stopped and, little by little, memories and thoughts fell into place.

"Edward?"