The Trouble with Women

Chapter 25

Cape Town and Open Waters

--

Gibbs rocked a bit on the heels of his feet, watching anxiously as Crimp inspected Jack's wound, and at the same time attempting to relay to his captain any news while attempting to ignore the fits of curses he went into as he was poked and prodded.

"God dammit, man…! Gibbs, I trust you can sail the Pearl into harbour without incident?" Jack demanded, grinding his teeth together as Crimp peeled back the bandage congealed with dried blood.

Nodding hurriedly, Gibbs affirmed, "O'course, Jack. I've got it all under control." He visibly grimaced as the messy wound was revealed, the skin around it bruised and red. "No need to worry – no worrying to be done there! It's all worry free, sir, so don't you go worrying."

Jack cast his first mate an incredulous glance. "Can you or can you not?"

"Aye!" Gibbs burbled loudly, watching as Crimp began poking and prodding around the wound. "I can! Done it many times, if'n you recall."

Slapping away Crimp's hand, Jack sent the surgeon an irritated glare before staring pointedly at Gibbs. "Then get to it Joshamee. We're coming in fast, so get the French flag up and anchor us just offshore. Don't attract too much attention and go about your business peacefully, savvy?"

Gibbs nodded again. "Aye, Cap'n. Will do." He watched somewhat hesitantly as Crimp urged Jack to sit up and wrapped new bandage around his shoulder and torso.

Jack sighed in relief when it was done finished, and again turned his attention to Gibbs. "Aye, now go do your job…and get the lass in here while you're at it. I need a word with 'er."

Gibbs gave him a curious look, "But Anamaria's overlookin' the ship right now, Cap'n."

"Not Anamaria," Jack said. "Vivien, Gibbs, Vivien."

--

Vivien watched curiously as Carlos stirred the concoction in the cauldron. It smelled delicious, yet she had no idea what he'd added to it and that worried her slightly. She'd never seen anything like it in Édouard's kitchen back home, and wondered if it was Spanish. She'd never eaten anything authentically Spanish before.

"If you're worried I've poisoned it, that would be foolish," the Spaniard declared to her after her staring had become too obvious.

Vivien shifted slightly on her chair and licked her lips. "Why?"

Carlos turned an eye to her. "You've done much for me, Senorita. I would not return your kindness with harm." He was referring to the mess she had gotten him out of, pleading with Gibbs not to toss him in the brig. He seemed perfectly harmless, and she had been eager to see if he really was as good a cook as he said he was.

So, she'd somewhat hesitantly led the Spaniard below and given him the smallest cauldron she could find, and stood fretfully at the entrance to the small cooking area while Carlos rooted through the supplies. Only when it became apparent the crew was focused on deck and unlikely to come below anytime soon did she calm down.

Vivien smiled and Carlos returned it. Then, shuffling around the small galley slightly, he produced two bowls and spoons.

"And for keeping me company, Señorita, you will have the first taste my cocido stew," he declared, and stirred the cauldron once more before taking a large ladle-full and transferring it to a bowl.

It steamed and bubbled and Vivien's stomach did flip-flops. He handed it to her with a spoon and Vivien placed it carefully on the counter, unwilling to spill any. Then, she took a spoonful and savoured it, because it was surely the best stew she'd tasted in a while.

"You like?" Carlos asked, grinning. He must have seen the look of heaven on her face.

She nodded enthusiastically. "I've been eating stale bread and gruel for weeks…this is wonderful," she said, then blushed immediately afterwards. She ate another spoonful quickly.

"Do you think your captain will allow me to cook?" he asked.

Vivien looked up at him. "He would be crazy not to," she declared with a smile.

Just then, someone could be heard thumping down the stairs to the galley, Vivien's heart jerked in her chest, and Gibbs appeared several moments later.

"We're coming into Cape Town, Vivien. Jack's asking for you…" he trailed off and sniffed the air with a surprising amount of daintiness for such a large man. "What's that smell?" he queried curiously, all former thoughts vanished.

Carlos grinned, smoothly producing another bowl from nowhere. "My cocido stew, Senor Gibbs. It was the only thing I could think of making with your meagre supplies, but Vivien tells me it is quite good. Would you like a bowl?" he asked, and was already ladling it full.

Gibbs looked quite shocked when he tasted it, and swallowed hurriedly. "You can cook?" he demanded.

Shrugging, Carlos said, "I told you I was cook, Senor. Carlos Portillo de Caratgena was a well respected and admired chef in his homeland – until I was captured by filthy pirates and forced to slave in a galley!" This was explained with such vehemence that Vivien actually flinched.

Gibbs chose to ignore the speech. "Aye, but you're a damned good cook!" he exclaimed through another mouthful of stew. Vivien watched in amazement as he finished it all in what seemed like seconds. Then, discarding the bowl to the side, he pointed seriously at the Spaniard.

"You are going ashore with the men to get food supplies," he established simply, then looked to Vivien. "Would you mind visiting the Cap'n? He's feeling a bit catty – I'd say the lack of rum."

Vivien nodded, managing one last spoonful before pushing her own bowl to the side.

Gibbs thanked her, and then added as an afterthought, "And tell the blighter if he tries weaselling his way outta bed I'll lock him in there. He's getting a bit antsy and'll only tear open his wound. I'll be taking over temporary captainship for our stay – I ain't taking over, just directing…and Anamaria supports my decision one hundred percent," he said the last line hurriedly, as if the idea of opposing Jack was making him slightly nervous.

Vivien only nodded.

--

It was perhaps a good thing that Vivien entered Jack's cabin when she did, because he was in the middle of balancing, one hand on his bedpost while his legs trembled with the effort of holding his weak body upright. She froze at first, first because he was half-naked without a shirt, and then because she wasn't expecting Jack to be so foolish.

There looked to be a thin sheen of sweat over his whole body. Vivien saw his arm shake violently as it gave out, and she rushed forward just as he began to collapse, not catching him (certainly not!) but shoving him backwards none-to-gently onto his large bed. He shouted in surprise, but bounced harmlessly on the mattress.

He stared up at her with wild eyes. "What...?" he gasped out.

"What??" she returned back in a screech with a look matching his own.

The stared at each other with equal looks of surprise.

Vivien refused to back down. At this rate, she realized that Jack was likely to hurt himself and was not about to let that happen. "You could – could have fallen you…you…foolish man!" she stuttered, sounding less impressive than she would have liked.

Jack grasped his arm near the wound, gritting his teeth. "Aye, but then there is no progress in life without pain!" he snapped at her, eyes screwed shut.

Vivien swallowed thickly, chewing her bottom lip hard before making a weighty decision. Carefully, slowly, she took a seat beside him on the bed. Then, turning slightly, she reached out, trembling slightly because her nerves were still buzzing, and rested a hand on his good shoulder. Feeling the warm skin beneath her fingers sent a jolt through her chest.

"Are you…in pain?" she asked quietly.

Jack hesitated before answering in a distinctly sullen tone. "No."

Releasing his shoulder, Vivien watched him a moment. There was a distinct furrow in his brow and a purse to his lips. He refused to open his eyes, and she sighed slightly before shifting slightly on the bed and warily, gradually lowering herself down to rest beside him, albeit with a good two feet between them.

Heart thumping in her chest, she wondered what in the world she was doing, but forced herself to stay rigidly still. Nervously, her hands twisted in her lap. She waited, somehow knowing that the right thing was to wait. And stay.

Jack spoke finally, and his accent seemed to be thickened and his voice gravely, "You're awfully courteous to an old sea dog such as meself."

Vivien swallowed, said nothing. Silence reigned in the cabin for several long moments, causing a ball of unease to start rolling around her chest.

"You're wondering why I asked for you," Jack began, subjects switching and gladdening Vivien. His next words did not. "Dorian Belfast."

Again, Vivien began chewing on her bottom lip.

"He knows where that treasure of yours is, don't he?" Jack asked.

"Perhaps he has always known," she murmured. Suddenly restless, Vivien sat up and perched stiffly on the side of the bed.

"He has that map o' yours?"

Vivien heaved a rattling breath and nodded. "He must have," she confirmed shortly.

"And he doesn't intend to give up so easily, if he was willin' to sail all the way to Africa to retrieve you…to stop you from tellin' and to kill me for knowing," Jack concluded lowly, and the ball of unease in Vivien's stomach grew.

Quickly, she stood from the bed, took several steps forward, froze, and began to pace. She wasn't usually a pacer, but she suddenly had bounds of pent up energy in her limbs.

Behind her, Jack eased himself up and sat still, watching her movements. "I'm not fool enough to believe that we've stopped him," he went on. "I recall you telling me once, with the utmost conviction, that Dorian Belfast does not give up his possessions so easily, and will do anything to get them back. Now, a man like that…he isn't going to let anything stop him, is he?"

Vivien felt a chill run through her.

"He'll follow to the ends of the earth, won't he?"

She stopped pacing.

"A man obsessed? He won't stop for anything."

She turned to look at Jack, eyeing him carefully as if she knew what he was getting at. "I don't suppose he will," she responded, but sensed that Jack wanted more than her agreement. He wanted to know. He wanted her to tell him where the treasure was – before it was too late, he was saying. He wanted her to trust him, to give him her last bargaining chip willingly.

She would have told him in a second, truthfully, if she could.

They regarded each other silently for a moment, each thinking their own thoughts.

Jack's eyes narrowed slightly in scrutiny. "Although…I suppose this discussion can wait for another time," he finished slowly. "After all, I won't be expecting Belfast to find another ship anytime soon."

Vivien looked heavenwards for a moment, letting out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. To thank Jack for letting off would have admitted that she was hiding something, and she didn't want that. She needed his trust.

Just then, the ship gave a groan and a lurch, and the sound of voices shouting on deck was loud through the wood. She glanced at Jack, only to see him looking upwards with a crooked grin on his face.

"We've arrived," he said simply.

"Yes," Vivien mused simply. She hadn't entertained the idea of asking Jack or Gibbs if she would be allowed on land for the day. She was almost positive the answer would be no – but only for her safety, of course.

"The crew will be going ashore," Jack went on. He grasped the post of the bed and levered himself up slightly. "And I will be going on deck."

Vivien blinked at him a moment, dumbfounded, before protesting loudly. "But surely you should rest?" She took a step towards him and hovered nervously.

"Been resting all day!" Jack proclaimed. "And you wouldn't think it, no, but resting gives you a ravenous appetite – I happen to have one now."

Frowning, Vivien curled her hands into fists, remembering Gibbs's words to her. "Then I will bring you something!"

Glancing up at her with dark eyes, Jack frowned. "I also happened to suffer from a peculiar sort of cabin fever – claustrophobia. Makes me go a bit, you know." He waggled a finger around his temple. "I've been known to get a bit rowdy – nearly cleaved Gibbs' arm off, once!" He laughed to himself, then.

Vivien regarded him with a mix of unease and determination, unmoved by his words.

Jack rolled his eyes. "If you'd be so kind as to fetch my hat…" He struggled placed both feet on the floor and was about to stand before he realized that Vivien hadn't moved an inch. He looked up at her, perplexed. "What?"

She avoided his eyes. "I'm sorry, but I've been given orders not to let you leave this room."

Jack stared at her, quite flabbergasted. Orders? Not leave his room? Who exactly was the captain of this ship?

"Well, that's fine and dandy, love, but I'd like to leave this room and to do so I need my hat. As well as my coat…and a shirt would do, too," he told her in a matter of fact tone, standing shakily and valiantly trying to hide his discomfort.

Taking a step back, Vivien again recalled the orders she'd received. Mon Dieu, why me?

Well, she was Vivien Brideau of course, and fate liked to give her the worst of things.

"Gibbs would like me to inform you that until you're no longer…indisposed, he will be taking up temporary captainship," Vivien tried again, clasping her hands before her tightly. Her attempt to placate him only seemed to outrage him, however.

Jack opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off quickly.

"And if you argue, he also said to inform you that he has no qualms with locking you in here until he thinks your wound is sufficiently healed," she continued hastily.

Jack stared at her for a long moment, eyes dark, mood considerably less light, before shaking his head ruefully. "All right, I can't say I have much to complain about with a nurse as lovely as yourself," he grinned at her, enjoying the indignant blush that stained her cheeks. "However, next time you see Mister Gibbs, kindly tell him to shove 'is orders up 'is fat arse. I'll resume being captain when I'm ready, a not a moment later."

Vivien nodded once in agreement.

"And that moment happens to be now," Jack added.

Again, Vivien agreed.

"Splendid," Jack exclaimed cheerily. "Now, lets see about something to eat for ole Jack 'ere, ay?"

--

Jack had not been happy when Vivien broke the news to him about the new stowaway aboard his ship, but Carlos was a chef and Jack was hungry. The food was good, so Jack decided that he would greet the man civilly when he returned, and then thoroughly berate Gibbs for withholding information from him. He was displeased with that, of most things.

Vivien leaned against the rail of the ship and surveyed the port town before her. Jack was doing much the same from his position at the helm. She suspected that standing there was a sort of healing in its own way. Though his ship was not moving, he was clearly in control of it. He was leaning less heavily upon the wheel, as well, and seemed not to be exhausted at all. She began to wonder if the Pearl could perform strange miracles, because this seemed to be one of them.

Vivien tore her sight from Jack to inspect the large harbour they had anchored in. Surrounding the Pearl was a plethora of other ships, all flying different colours, some smaller, some bigger. Looking up, she could see a French flag flapped merrily on the Pearl's mast. They were under no scrutiny by their floating neighbours.

Far across the harbour, she could just make out the shapes of people walking along the docks. The buildings stretched from the waterfront far into the hills where large mountains loomed in the distance. Below, the water was deep and dark, but she could occasionally make out the outlines of fish swimming in schools around the hull of the Pearl.

Beside her, there was movement, and the two cabin boys who had served her supper while she had watched over Jack were beside her, peering over the rails with looks of longing.

"I ain't ne'er been to Africa," the one, Duncan said wistfully in a little boyish way.

Vivien returned her gaze to Cape Town. "Me either," she acknowledged.

Rupert, the other cabin boy, gave a snort. "Sail aboard the Pearl for year an' you've been everywhere there is to be," he told them. "I been to the colonies, I'vry Coast – Corsica, where them pirates be called corsairs an' sail 'round in little toy ships!" he laughed.

Duncan gave the other boy a hard glare. "Aye, but you rarely get to go 'shore, do ya?" he sneered.

Rupert sneered right back. "Still bin there. More'n you can say!" he taunted.

Vivien watched curiously as Duncan grinded his heel into Rupert's toes with a vengeance. Then, the two boys dispersed with a flurry of curses and vanished below. Shaking her head slightly, she turned her gaze back to the water. There were several rowboats headed in their general direction. A bird circled over them, its bright plumage unmistakable.

--

The rest of their stay in Cape Town passed without much of a hitch.

Upon the crew's return to the ship with supplies, Jack was welcomed back with the cheers of a hero, and he took to the praise and well wishes with the air of a damaged martyr. In fact, he was in such a good mood that Gibbs received no immediate tongue-lashing and Carlos escaped his notice completely. Vivien watched as the cook fled from the deck as soon as all the crew was aboard and descended into the galley.

Then, she turned to watch as their supplies was carted aboard, hens, a goat, several pigs, crates and barrels, sacks of flour, sacks of rice and fruit of every imaginable size and shape. For the remnants of the day, the ship was alive with activity: the crew rowing back and forth to deliver supplies, Anamaria shouting orders and the men shouting back at her. Good naturedly, of course. Everyone seemed to be in a jolly mood.

Vivien stayed to the side and watched the sea for most of the day; she watched how it stretched on forever and wondered what lay behind them on that dark horizon.

--

Gibbs had been waiting for it, of course, but when it finally happened, he was near shaking in his boots. It was silly, really, because Jack Sparrow wasn't the most intimidating of men. But doors to the captain's cabin closed behind Gibbs with the finality of an officer's command to a firing squad. Before him, Jack took several paces into the room before turning swiftly to regard his first mate.

Gibbs found it disconcerting that only that morning Jack had been confined to bed, near helpless and clearly in pain – and now he stood before Gibbs with only the slightest of discomfort. Quite unfortunately, he seemed good as new, and quite peeved as well.

He swallowed, feeling sweat bead on his forehead with the intensity of his captain's dark gaze. He waited. He waited for what seemed like hours to receive the kickback his earlier orders merited. He waited until his left foot started going numb before he finally couldn't take it anymore.

"Cap'n Jack, sir?" he questioned hesitantly, squinting at said man who hadn't moved and inch and for all he knew could have turned to stone.

But no – an eyebrow twitched, the corner of his mouth dipped down the slightest.

"I'm waiting for a witty excuse, Joshamee," he explained patiently, almost pleasantly.

Gibbs shifted slightly on his feet, easing his weight to his right. "No excuse, Cap'n. Only your best interests in mind," he said honestly.

Jack narrowed his eyes. "My interests are my own," he snapped back. "And any more interfering on your part, Joshamee, and count yourself demoted to deckhand where I don't have to deal with your meddling. Are we clear?"

Swallowing, Gibbs nodded. "Aye, we be clear."

Jack finally moved, wandering over to his desk where a bottle sat open and half-full. "Sometimes my best interests are not the same as the crew's," he told Gibbs, reaching for the bottle. His hand froze before contact, however, and retreated. He turned to his friend. "For example, it may be in my best interest to stay anchored here for one more day or so, but we won't. We will leave tonight for the Caribbean, when there no one awake to notice, and we will sail straight for open waters with the best of speed. The reason, Joshamee, is because we are being pursued by someone who could rightly be considered a crazed madman. And we've dealt with these unsavoury types before, haven't we?"

Gibbs regarded Jack without speaking. The pirate captain stepped forward until he was nose to nose with his first mate. Their eyes locked in a staring battle, a contest of wills.

"Madmen do not stop for anything, Gibbs. Therefore, we will no stop for anything. Not even me." He stepped back.

"Aye, Jack," Gibbs agreed gravely, the seed of understanding blossoming in his mind. "Shall I inform Anamaria?"

Breaking eye contact, Jack gazed around the room. "Aye, but wait till after sup. A man doesn't want to listen to a squawking woman while he'd tryin' to eat, savvy?" There was a hint of a grin in his voice.

Gibbs managed a chuckle, "Aye, that'll about do it."

"Good," Jack declared with finality. He moved around Gibbs to leave the room, but halfway through the door he froze and turned back. "By the way…excellent job gathering supplies," he chirped and slipped from the room.

Gibbs let loose a huge breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding and had to shake himself before he felt ready to follow Jack down to the galley.

--

As soon as the captain entered, the galley was filled with a roar of hearty cheers, applause and the banging of bowls upon the table. Several crewmen launched into a joyful albeit skewered rendition of "Captain Kidd," singing uproariously:

'Is name is Cap'n Jack,
As 'e sailed!
'Is name is Cap'n Jack,
Many daftly things 'e did,
God's laws 'e did forbid,
As 'e sailed!

And Jack took a small bow (with a slight grimace from the pull in his shoulder), swept the hat off his head, and took his seat midst his men. He surveyed the room with a critical eye, almost too aware of the celebratory atmosphere and the merry faces of his crew.

From his seat just to Jack's right, Fowler leaned over and said, "Glad t'have ye back in the mess, Cap'n!"

And across from Jack, young Roberts was grinning. "Aye, we had to put up with Old Nob's stories instead of yours!"

Gibbs interrupted, taking the seat to Jack's right. He slid a bowl filled with a greenish, gooey contents in front of Jack and place his own before him. He looked at it doubtfully, then glanced at Jack.

"It don't look edible, does it?" he asked.

Jack wrinkled his nose. "Where is that damned little Spaniard? I thought you said he could cook."

Fowler snorted. "That skinny, manky fella?" he asked, but went on without waiting for an answer. "Shoulda seen 'im and Brill milling earlier! Brill threw 'im straight out o' the galley! Sez 'e won't have a Span'sh weasel in 'is kitchen!" He laughed.

Jack frowned. Gibbs wrinkled his nose.

Roberts nodded enthusiastically, "Then Miss Brideau, kind hearted lady – she excuses herself and goes after the blighter!"

Jack promptly lost his appetite and pushed the bowl as far away from him as he could.

--

On deck, the darkness was inky save for the one lantern hanging by the mainmast and the area it illuminated. Vivien did not find Carlos within the light, but huddled up on the stairs leading to the quarterdeck.

She approached him slowly and sat down just a cool breeze from the water swirled on deck. The Pearl creaked as she swayed gently. In the surrounding waters were the looming shadows of ship and lights twinkling across the water. Cape Town's docks, however, were dark and silent.

Carlos shifted slightly as she settled beside him, turning his head to glance at her. He looked morose.

"Why weren't you down below having dinner?" Vivien asked finally, her eyes straying to the lone lantern in the centre of the deck.

It was a moment before he answered. "Ah, I felt it was not my place to be," he told her, his accent thick.

"Why not?" she questioned curiously. "Everyone eats together in the galley."

Carlos shook his head, his dark hair moving slightly in the cool, silent wind. "No, I am a stowaway, Señorita. I do not belong down there with the others." He sighed heavily, and Vivien became concerned.

"You're a part of the crew, though. Gibbs says so – you're to help Brill with the cooking!" she protested.

But Carlos merely shook his head. "No, this, this Brill…this man does not want my help. He refuses to let me near the supplies, and instead he makes…gruel." He spat the word with bitter distaste. "What man, with all those spices and foods at his fingertips, makes gruel for a meal!? I could make cachelada with puré de patatas, or besugo al horino with barquillos! Calamares fritos! Manitas de cordero, caldereta gallega, salpicón de mariscos, y sopa de gallina!"

Vivien gaped at him.

"No," he continued resignedly. "I am not welcome in the galley. I am not welcome on this ship."

Frowning, Vivien chewed on her lips for a moment. Beside her, Carlos was shaking his head in apparent despair. Vivien thought he was being rather melodramatic now, but she couldn't blame him.

"Have you heard how I ended up aboard this ship?" she asked him hesitantly, finally.

Carlos shook his head sullenly, but looked over at her nonetheless. "You are not a pirate, are you? You're far too pretty to be a pirate."

Blushing hotly, Vivien glanced away. "No, I'm not really a pirate. However, my father was," she told him, then paused for a long moment before continuing. "My mother died…giving birth to me and my father was left to take care of me. But he had a ship, you see, and his ship meant very much to him…So he bought a house on L'ile de Bourbon and hired a man to look after me, Aumary, and he went to sea." She glanced over at Carlos to see if he was paying attention. He was staring ahead intently, a frown on his face. Nonetheless, she continued. "I don't recall seeing very much of him, but he sent me letters often," she recounted, smiling sadly. "A man came one day – his name was Dorian Belfast. He brought news of my father's death in a storm. He and his crew perished. His ship sank. I was very young, however, and I don't think that this news meant much to me then…" she paused to take a deep breath and focused on the lone lantern swaying slightly in the wind. "Shortly after, Aumary died. Dorian Belfast became my new guardian, and I grew up in that house with him dictating every movement that I made.

"However, there was one thing that Dorian new nothing of, and that was the map my father had sent me just before he had died. It was a map that marked the coordinates of his treasure – the treasure he had amounted over his years of piracy. He left it to me." She stopped and laughed softly then. She noticed that Carlos was focused on her intently now, and continued on. "It was silly idea, really, because it's brought me nothing but trouble since. About two weeks ago Captain Jack Sparrow came knocking on my door, wanting to know where this treasure was...and when wasn-, I mean I didn't tell him, he forced me aboard his ship, the Black Pearl." She patted the wood of the steps almost fondly. "Dorian, of course, took chase –"

"You're the one they were speaking of!" Carlos interrupted suddenly, his eyes wide. "The woman they held captive!"

Vivien regarded him pensively. "Yes…you see, Dorian sees my being kidnapped as a threat to his investment in me – my father's treasure. I'm not here of my own free will, but it's far better than living under Dorian Belfast's watchful eye."

Carlos gaped at her.

"What I was trying to say, though, was that I'm not a pirate. I don't belong here either. When I first came aboard, the crew avoided me," Vivien recalled. "I was less than a cabin boy; I was locked in my cabin and several of the men on board wanted nothing more than to toss me overboard – including Anamaria…several times." She looked over to Carlos. Her throat was beginning to get dry from so much talking.

The Spaniard was staring at the deck, now, his brow furrowed.

She licked her lips. "Give them all time and they'll become as used to you as they are to me," Vivien finished, and they both fell into silence.

They sat there until the first watch came up from below, then parted ways and went to their separate beds.

--

Much later, while Vivien lay half-asleep in her cot, the Pearl's wood creaked in awakening. The anchor was hauled in and the sails were lowered. The cool night wind caught her and she slipped out of Cape Town's harbour under the protective blanket of night's darkness.

--

Author's Notes: It's been a while, hasn't it? You wouldn't believe how good it feels to finally post this chapter. I'm relieved, and I'm over the 100,000 word mark! Just because I'm feeling particularly cheery at the moment, I give you all permission to call me horrible names in your reviews! ;)

I'm relatively happy with this chapter. I've only gone through it twice, however, so be warned: there are probably still a few grammar mistakes and such around.

Also, I've taken off the HIATUS on the summary, but this story is still under revision. I'm about on chapter 9. So far, some changes are bigger, some aren't. Mostly it's just fixing grammar. There aren't any huge changes to the story. Feel free to read those chapters over and tell me what you think.

Thank you all for waiting for so long. Hopefully the next chapter will be up sooner. Until then, you can always check my livejournal (link on my profile), to see how my stories are coming along

-Cayenne Pepper Powder