What's in a Name?
A/N: This is my first fanfic that I've written by myself, so, if you have a problem with it, don't hesitate to tell me...I really appreciate constructive criticism and all that jazz.
Disclaimer: Don't own anything, won't ever own anything except Christina and her family and random others that have no importance...yet.
Chapter 1: Introductions
I suppose a good place to start is at the beginning, it makes sense. I lived the first twenty years of my life in England, London to be exact. My family was always very well off; we were one of the wealthier families in London. It never really made much of a difference to me, because, after I reached the age of six, I scarcely knew my family. My parents only had two children, myself and my younger brother by six years, Timothy. But before I continue, I must say who I am, my name is Christina Smit.
I spent the time between my sixth and eighteenth birthdays in a boarding school outside of greater London. At the school, we were taught the finer things in life, literature, philosophy but also homemaking. I loved everything but the homemaking. I would soak up all the lessons, except that one. I often went in to teachers for extra information on subjects. By the time I left school, I was fluent in French as well as fairly well versed in Spanish, although I didn't know why exactly we were taught these languages to be quite honest. I only would return home during the two- month summer holiday that our school had and occasional holidays in between.
After leaving school, I returned home to help care for my mother, who was suffering from an extended illness. It was not until I was nineteen and a half that she fully recovered. However, our fortunes did not improve. Shortly after my mother's recovery, my father and brother, took a trip to the ocean to celebrate her recovery. And while I didn't see this as fair, I did not complain . . . I was never a fan of fishing. However, I grew worried when they did not return home on time. After three days, there was still no word from them, and worry was beginning to fill me. After a week, I saw a man riding swiftly up to our home. I paid it little mind, figuring it was some matter of business for my mother to handle in my father's absence, no concern of mine. However, ten minutes later, the quietness of our house was penetrated by a shrill scream. I bolted from my room and ran, unladylike, down to my mother.
Upon entering, I saw her collapsed in a chair, sobbing.
Heart in throat, I asked, "Mum? What's wrong?"
The man, whom I did not recognize, came over to me and answered, "Miss, there was an accident, a boating accident. Your father and brother's boat was swept off course and they drowned in the swells..."
Although the man continued speaking, I ceased to hear what he said. I swayed slightly on my feet before my vision went black and I fainted.
~*~
Four months later, my mother and I were on a ship heading for the Caribbean. Being on a ship has to be the most boring thing in the world for a woman, and three months with only one companion, your mother, makes it even worse. It was on that ship that I found out the truth about my father and my family's past, a truth that my mother made me swear never to tell, not even to write in my journal, she never told me why but it was something very important to keep hidden.
Although my mother and I typically got along quite well, I had to endure three months of solid arguments and tears. When my mother and I were not arguing over something petty, she spent her time sobbing about my father and brother. This made the journey much harder for me because I, unlike my mother, did not want to think about them and tried very much to focus on the present. I had withdrawn after my father and brother's deaths and was trying to heal the deep wounds on my heart. It was when we were a week from Port Royal that my life took an interesting turn.
That day was extremely bleak and passed just as slowly as the days before it had. After managing to eat a light dinner, I retired to my cabin. However, my mother decided that it would be a good time to come see me before she, too, went to bed.
"Christina, I have some news for you," the strict woman who was my mother said.
"Yes?"
"You will be getting engaged upon our arrival in Port Royale," Mother told me, ignoring my open mouth. "Lieutenant Marcus Collins will meet us at the dock and you will be civil."
Seizing the opportunity to speak up, I said in a barely restrained voice. "I've already lost my father, brother, and home in the last four months. Now you're taking away my freedom! Whatever happened---"
I broke off.
BANG!
Explosions rocked our ship. We were under attack! My mother and I stared at each other open-mouthed.
Now footsteps and loud voices could be heard overhead.
PIRATES!
Mother shoved me into a closet and moved to lock the cabin door.
But it was too late.
As she moved closer to the door, it sprung open and three pirates spilled into the room. Two men and a woman. A woman pirate?
Mother made every effort to fight them off but hands are no match for guns and cutlasses. I watched from the crack in the closet and tried to remain silent as my mother struggled against the intruders. A shot rang out and against my will, I screamed.
Bursting out of the closet, I ran towards my mother. However, one of the male pirates caught me around the middle and pushed me painfully into the wall. I watched in horror as my mother slowly sank to the ground, blood seeping from her stomach.
"Don't hurt her!" she cried.
I struggled harder against the man holding me, fighting to get away from his hands and go to my only solace I had left. Slowly the man began cutting down my dress with his knife.
I screamed but received only a fist to my jaw.
Finally the woman pirate stepped in. "You know what cap'n said, take her to him."
From what I could tell, it was only grudgingly that the pirate backed away slightly. He and the woman pirate grabbed my arms and "escorted" me out, kicking and screaming. I froze when we got out on deck. Blood everywhere and the deck was littered with the bodies of our crew.
The pirates took advantage of my lack of resistance and hurried me over to their captain.
"Well, Ana, what's all this?" the captain asked in a mockingly curious voice.
"Found her down below. Thought ye might wan' a look, cap'n, before anything 'appened. Been a long trip, ye know, Roberts 'ere was a little over anxious."
I felt horrible at that moment. The hands clutching my arms were painfully tight and my skin was crawling. Dirty men surrounded me, all watching me greedily in the moonlight. As of yet, though, I had not looked up at this captain that I was in front of, but a strong hand reached down and brought my gaze to his.
I gazed at the man in front of me, with something akin to panic welling up inside of me. And dreadlocks, guns, knives, deep chocolate eyes stared back at me hungrily. His eyes . . . his eyes terrified me. They were so dark. Unnaturally so. They seemed to sparkle with evil thoughts, oh God.
Feeling empowered once more, more out of fear than strength, I resumed my fighting against my captors. Those horrifying eyes continued to bore into me . . . it was unnerving.
Finally this supposed captain spoke, "Anything else of interest down there, Ana?"
The woman nodded, I think, because she answered, "A woman, but Hastings shot her. Gut shot, she's probably still alive. Plus there was a good deal of swag in her cabin."
The reply came simply, "Check."
Only one of the three remained, beside the captain. I turned to see who was holding me and noticed that the boy wasn't much older than me, he certainly wasn't much of a pirate. He looked rather green and the hand clutching my arm was faintly gentle. When he noticed me looking at him, he smiled slightly but soon the stillness in the air was broken.
The sound of a gun shot cracked the night. Realizing what it meant, I tore out of the boy's grasp and ran towards the cabin. Before I was halfway there, however, I felt myself being tackled by someone much heavier than myself. Squirming and clawing at the deck frantically, I struggled to free myself from the weight.
"Where do you think you're going, lass?" a voice whispered in my ear, it was the captain. His voice sounded almost gentle, but he was so close to my ear that his lips brushed my ear and I merely fought harder. Then the cold metal barrel of a gun was placed against my temple. I froze. "Stop struggling and I'll get off you," the voice said again.
Feeling immensely uncomfortable, I stilled and breathed easier once the weight was off me.
But then, shock of all shocks, a hand broke my line of vision, a silent offering to help me up.
Inwardly I snorted. I did not need his help, I thought as I pushed myself up. Just as I prepared to bolt again, two strong hands grasped my upper arms.
"My apologies, love, but I can't let you stay," he said as he wheeled me around and over to his ship.
Feeling hatred well up inside of me, I kicked back into his shin as hard as I could muster without shoes on. "Let me go," I hissed.
Before he could respond, the woman pirate made her way over to us and said, "'S all taken care of, cap'n."
The captain nodded and transferred me to the woman. Before she could jostle me away, he said, "Take her to my cabin and make sure she stays put."
The woman nodded and forced me down to a room. Roughly, she tied my hands to the bedpost, locked the door and sat silently at a desk, waiting.
I stared at her, seething inside, cursing her mentally. This woman, who had the audacity to appear unruffled, had murdered my mother and crew. In cold blood at that. And they probably would do the same to me after the captain and crew had had their way with me.
Trying to keep my mind off it, I tugged at my bindings. To my horror, the bed creaked in protest, catching the woman's attention. "Ye can stop glaring at me like that, I ain't gonna hurt ye," she said in an almost kind voice.
I guessed that this comment was meant to be reassuring but I didn't see it as such. I continued to glare at her and said, "You killed my mum."
The woman nodded curtly and said, "Thought it was the humane thing to do. Unless you wanted your dear old mum to bleed to death, or burn."
Biting back a snide remark, I lowered my head and stared down at the floor. "Just let me go," I pleaded. When she didn't respond, I tried again, "Please, let me go. I didn't do anything to you. Just let me go, please."
The woman snorted derisively. "And what am I to tell the cap'n, eh? I just stepped aside and let you skip along on yer merry way? You wouldn't make it two feet from the door before ye got caught. But I doubt that they would turn yo over to Jack, right away. Probably have some fun with ye fore he let ye go."
I glared at her, wishing with all my heart that looks could kill.
"Ye know, this ain't me fault so ye can stop yer glaring unless ye'd prefer to be unconscious," she said in a voice that no longer had even a tiny vestige remaining of kindness.
I did not see any reason to speak to this woman further. Why should I pay any heed to her words, she was just a pirate. I was not about to waste my breath on her, I was the daughter of two very important, rich people who loved me very much while they were alive.
The sound of a key being inserted into the lock met my ears. I looked up at Ana in fear as the door creaked open and the captain strode in. In one swift moment, she had risen to her feet to greet him.
Said captain came striding further into the room, gazed looked on me. "Take the helm, Ana," he said.
She nodded and left the cabin silently.
A/N: This is my first fanfic that I've written by myself, so, if you have a problem with it, don't hesitate to tell me...I really appreciate constructive criticism and all that jazz.
Disclaimer: Don't own anything, won't ever own anything except Christina and her family and random others that have no importance...yet.
Chapter 1: Introductions
I suppose a good place to start is at the beginning, it makes sense. I lived the first twenty years of my life in England, London to be exact. My family was always very well off; we were one of the wealthier families in London. It never really made much of a difference to me, because, after I reached the age of six, I scarcely knew my family. My parents only had two children, myself and my younger brother by six years, Timothy. But before I continue, I must say who I am, my name is Christina Smit.
I spent the time between my sixth and eighteenth birthdays in a boarding school outside of greater London. At the school, we were taught the finer things in life, literature, philosophy but also homemaking. I loved everything but the homemaking. I would soak up all the lessons, except that one. I often went in to teachers for extra information on subjects. By the time I left school, I was fluent in French as well as fairly well versed in Spanish, although I didn't know why exactly we were taught these languages to be quite honest. I only would return home during the two- month summer holiday that our school had and occasional holidays in between.
After leaving school, I returned home to help care for my mother, who was suffering from an extended illness. It was not until I was nineteen and a half that she fully recovered. However, our fortunes did not improve. Shortly after my mother's recovery, my father and brother, took a trip to the ocean to celebrate her recovery. And while I didn't see this as fair, I did not complain . . . I was never a fan of fishing. However, I grew worried when they did not return home on time. After three days, there was still no word from them, and worry was beginning to fill me. After a week, I saw a man riding swiftly up to our home. I paid it little mind, figuring it was some matter of business for my mother to handle in my father's absence, no concern of mine. However, ten minutes later, the quietness of our house was penetrated by a shrill scream. I bolted from my room and ran, unladylike, down to my mother.
Upon entering, I saw her collapsed in a chair, sobbing.
Heart in throat, I asked, "Mum? What's wrong?"
The man, whom I did not recognize, came over to me and answered, "Miss, there was an accident, a boating accident. Your father and brother's boat was swept off course and they drowned in the swells..."
Although the man continued speaking, I ceased to hear what he said. I swayed slightly on my feet before my vision went black and I fainted.
~*~
Four months later, my mother and I were on a ship heading for the Caribbean. Being on a ship has to be the most boring thing in the world for a woman, and three months with only one companion, your mother, makes it even worse. It was on that ship that I found out the truth about my father and my family's past, a truth that my mother made me swear never to tell, not even to write in my journal, she never told me why but it was something very important to keep hidden.
Although my mother and I typically got along quite well, I had to endure three months of solid arguments and tears. When my mother and I were not arguing over something petty, she spent her time sobbing about my father and brother. This made the journey much harder for me because I, unlike my mother, did not want to think about them and tried very much to focus on the present. I had withdrawn after my father and brother's deaths and was trying to heal the deep wounds on my heart. It was when we were a week from Port Royal that my life took an interesting turn.
That day was extremely bleak and passed just as slowly as the days before it had. After managing to eat a light dinner, I retired to my cabin. However, my mother decided that it would be a good time to come see me before she, too, went to bed.
"Christina, I have some news for you," the strict woman who was my mother said.
"Yes?"
"You will be getting engaged upon our arrival in Port Royale," Mother told me, ignoring my open mouth. "Lieutenant Marcus Collins will meet us at the dock and you will be civil."
Seizing the opportunity to speak up, I said in a barely restrained voice. "I've already lost my father, brother, and home in the last four months. Now you're taking away my freedom! Whatever happened---"
I broke off.
BANG!
Explosions rocked our ship. We were under attack! My mother and I stared at each other open-mouthed.
Now footsteps and loud voices could be heard overhead.
PIRATES!
Mother shoved me into a closet and moved to lock the cabin door.
But it was too late.
As she moved closer to the door, it sprung open and three pirates spilled into the room. Two men and a woman. A woman pirate?
Mother made every effort to fight them off but hands are no match for guns and cutlasses. I watched from the crack in the closet and tried to remain silent as my mother struggled against the intruders. A shot rang out and against my will, I screamed.
Bursting out of the closet, I ran towards my mother. However, one of the male pirates caught me around the middle and pushed me painfully into the wall. I watched in horror as my mother slowly sank to the ground, blood seeping from her stomach.
"Don't hurt her!" she cried.
I struggled harder against the man holding me, fighting to get away from his hands and go to my only solace I had left. Slowly the man began cutting down my dress with his knife.
I screamed but received only a fist to my jaw.
Finally the woman pirate stepped in. "You know what cap'n said, take her to him."
From what I could tell, it was only grudgingly that the pirate backed away slightly. He and the woman pirate grabbed my arms and "escorted" me out, kicking and screaming. I froze when we got out on deck. Blood everywhere and the deck was littered with the bodies of our crew.
The pirates took advantage of my lack of resistance and hurried me over to their captain.
"Well, Ana, what's all this?" the captain asked in a mockingly curious voice.
"Found her down below. Thought ye might wan' a look, cap'n, before anything 'appened. Been a long trip, ye know, Roberts 'ere was a little over anxious."
I felt horrible at that moment. The hands clutching my arms were painfully tight and my skin was crawling. Dirty men surrounded me, all watching me greedily in the moonlight. As of yet, though, I had not looked up at this captain that I was in front of, but a strong hand reached down and brought my gaze to his.
I gazed at the man in front of me, with something akin to panic welling up inside of me. And dreadlocks, guns, knives, deep chocolate eyes stared back at me hungrily. His eyes . . . his eyes terrified me. They were so dark. Unnaturally so. They seemed to sparkle with evil thoughts, oh God.
Feeling empowered once more, more out of fear than strength, I resumed my fighting against my captors. Those horrifying eyes continued to bore into me . . . it was unnerving.
Finally this supposed captain spoke, "Anything else of interest down there, Ana?"
The woman nodded, I think, because she answered, "A woman, but Hastings shot her. Gut shot, she's probably still alive. Plus there was a good deal of swag in her cabin."
The reply came simply, "Check."
Only one of the three remained, beside the captain. I turned to see who was holding me and noticed that the boy wasn't much older than me, he certainly wasn't much of a pirate. He looked rather green and the hand clutching my arm was faintly gentle. When he noticed me looking at him, he smiled slightly but soon the stillness in the air was broken.
The sound of a gun shot cracked the night. Realizing what it meant, I tore out of the boy's grasp and ran towards the cabin. Before I was halfway there, however, I felt myself being tackled by someone much heavier than myself. Squirming and clawing at the deck frantically, I struggled to free myself from the weight.
"Where do you think you're going, lass?" a voice whispered in my ear, it was the captain. His voice sounded almost gentle, but he was so close to my ear that his lips brushed my ear and I merely fought harder. Then the cold metal barrel of a gun was placed against my temple. I froze. "Stop struggling and I'll get off you," the voice said again.
Feeling immensely uncomfortable, I stilled and breathed easier once the weight was off me.
But then, shock of all shocks, a hand broke my line of vision, a silent offering to help me up.
Inwardly I snorted. I did not need his help, I thought as I pushed myself up. Just as I prepared to bolt again, two strong hands grasped my upper arms.
"My apologies, love, but I can't let you stay," he said as he wheeled me around and over to his ship.
Feeling hatred well up inside of me, I kicked back into his shin as hard as I could muster without shoes on. "Let me go," I hissed.
Before he could respond, the woman pirate made her way over to us and said, "'S all taken care of, cap'n."
The captain nodded and transferred me to the woman. Before she could jostle me away, he said, "Take her to my cabin and make sure she stays put."
The woman nodded and forced me down to a room. Roughly, she tied my hands to the bedpost, locked the door and sat silently at a desk, waiting.
I stared at her, seething inside, cursing her mentally. This woman, who had the audacity to appear unruffled, had murdered my mother and crew. In cold blood at that. And they probably would do the same to me after the captain and crew had had their way with me.
Trying to keep my mind off it, I tugged at my bindings. To my horror, the bed creaked in protest, catching the woman's attention. "Ye can stop glaring at me like that, I ain't gonna hurt ye," she said in an almost kind voice.
I guessed that this comment was meant to be reassuring but I didn't see it as such. I continued to glare at her and said, "You killed my mum."
The woman nodded curtly and said, "Thought it was the humane thing to do. Unless you wanted your dear old mum to bleed to death, or burn."
Biting back a snide remark, I lowered my head and stared down at the floor. "Just let me go," I pleaded. When she didn't respond, I tried again, "Please, let me go. I didn't do anything to you. Just let me go, please."
The woman snorted derisively. "And what am I to tell the cap'n, eh? I just stepped aside and let you skip along on yer merry way? You wouldn't make it two feet from the door before ye got caught. But I doubt that they would turn yo over to Jack, right away. Probably have some fun with ye fore he let ye go."
I glared at her, wishing with all my heart that looks could kill.
"Ye know, this ain't me fault so ye can stop yer glaring unless ye'd prefer to be unconscious," she said in a voice that no longer had even a tiny vestige remaining of kindness.
I did not see any reason to speak to this woman further. Why should I pay any heed to her words, she was just a pirate. I was not about to waste my breath on her, I was the daughter of two very important, rich people who loved me very much while they were alive.
The sound of a key being inserted into the lock met my ears. I looked up at Ana in fear as the door creaked open and the captain strode in. In one swift moment, she had risen to her feet to greet him.
Said captain came striding further into the room, gazed looked on me. "Take the helm, Ana," he said.
She nodded and left the cabin silently.