Voilà my next installment. I think this is a pretty decent chapter, actually, and really like the ending. It's just so fluffy! Also, I'm having a little contest. There's a reference in here to one of my favorite books/TV shows. To give you guys a clue, the show airs on HBO and will soon start its third season. Can anyone find the reference? If you do...you win, I guess? I don't know...that's not much of an incentive but whatever. Also, HAPPY HOLIDAYS everyone. I hope you all have a Merry Christmas (or whatever you celebrate) and a happy new year!

The room was deadly quiet; unnaturally quiet, even, and Anya allowed herself to tentatively peek one eye open. She realized too late, however, that that was a big mistake.

As soon as she had opened her eye even a split millimeter, Killian was at her side, shushing her and kissing her gently on the cheeks and forehead. He brushed away the hairs that were stuck on her sweaty face and smiled tenderly, genuinely happy to see that she was awake. His bombardment of affection momentarily shocked Anya, before she awkwardly shrugged him away and scooted to the other side of the bed as much as she could manage. Killian looked at her with a slightly confused stare before brushing it off and setting to work.

He fished among viles and viles of potions and creams that he had layed on her, erm, his beside table, whispering softly to himself as he did so. When finally he found what he was looking for, he walked around the bed and stood before Anya, giving her that same pitying and loving smile. It sickened her.

"How are you feeling, Anya?" he asked considerately as he looked expectantly at her.

Anya shrugged and responded curtly, "Fine." She was not in the mood to talk to the man that had caused her so much pain, both inside and out.

Killian seemed slightly taken aback with her shortness, but again dismissed it and continued on as if nothing was wrong.

"Do you think you can sit up for me, love?" he asked her. Anya pursed her lips and nodded, placing her palms flat against the mattress on either side of her. She tried to push up with them and not with her back, knowing that that would be far too painful, but only got about half way up before her strength failed her and she collapsed helplessly on the bed.

Killian quickly rushed to her side as though she were an incapable child, and in that moment she was (even if she wouldn't admit it to herself) and wrapped his arm around her back gently. He placed his other arm under her knees and pulled her up to a sitting position, giving her an apologetic look the entire time. Anya pretended not to notice.

"Take this." he said overtly sweetly, handing her a clear vile of what looked to be water, "It will help with the pain."

Anya did as she was told, tipping the glass and her head up before swallowing the foul liquid with a soured expression. Definitely not water.

"And this. This eliminates soreness. Oh, and this and this one, too. And..."

"Killian!" Anya interrupted. He had been picking up vile after vile and shoving them all into her lap, a somewhat frenzied expression on his face. "I think I just need rest. Rest is the best remedy." she told him matter-of-factly, just wanting to be left alone. He nodded numbly at first, as though he did not quite understand but hastened his step when it seemed like her words hit home.

"Right. You'll be tired, of course. I'll just let you rest while the potion takes effect, love. Sweet dreams." He told her airily, placing one last tender kiss on her cheek before walking to the other side of the bed and opening the door. Anya, however, couldn't retain herself. She needed to ask.

"Killian?" she prodded weakly. She told herself that she had meant to sound that way, and it was in no way a testament of her fragility. "Can I ask you something?"

The man gave her a sweet smile and answered, "Of course" before walking back in the room and closing her door. Anya took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She was going to regret this.

"Why is it that you're trying to salvage and heal the girl you helped torture?"

Her words were biting and acrid on the surface, but underneath they were sorrowful and betrayed. She was a girl sick with grief over the man she thought she loved, not with pain. Or physical pain, anyways. "Why is it that you're fixing me after you broke me?" She refused to let herself cry, refused to let him see that soft, pitiful side of hers. Never again. Never, ever, ever again. She was not so naive this time around, not so stupid as to believe his act. He would pay for what he'd done.

"Wh-what? Darling, what are you talking about?" Killian asked, face clouded with legitimate bewilderment. Was this why she was acting so icy?

"Don't play stupid with me, pirate." Anya spat at him, voice dripping with acid. He wasn't Killian anymore, he was 'pirate'.

"I'm not, Anya. What...are...you...talking...about?" He asked slowly, teeth bared. If she was accusing him of what he thought-

"I'm talking about last night!" Anya shouted at him, straightening her back despite the acute shot of pain it sent up her spine. "I'm talking about the fight...and how you knocked me over the head and chained me to the deck like a dog and..." she sucked in a deep breath before continuing, "and had me lashed. You had me lashed as though I were a slave who-who misbehaved."

"I didn't do any of those things, Anya." Killian replied heatedly, his words thick with shock. How could she dare to think that he was responsible for any of that? "I would never hurt you like that. Ever."

"So who did it then, huh?" Anya spat back at him. This was escalating much quicker than she anticipated. She could feel the blood boiling in her veins, coursing through her body. The exhaustion and pain she had felt earlier melted away and were replaced by strength and anger. There was no room for weakness right now, no place for susceptibility. It was what pirates prayed on. "Who was it that hurt me after I had betrayed you, fought with you? Who was it that knocked me over the head moments after I walked out on you, if not you?"

"I don't know." Killian replied. "I don't know who hit you over the head, or me for that matter. I don't know who it was that beat you like that, beat you bloody," he gestured furiously towards her disheveled figure, "and I don't know why, but trust me everyone on this boat is paying the price until I do."

His words both shocked and confused Anya at the same time. Hit him over the head? Paying the price? "What-what are you talking about?" she asked innocently, reverting unknowingly to her usual voice and temperament. It helped to calm Killian down. "I mean..." he sighed then and sat next to Anya on the bed, placing his elbows contemplatively on his knees and rubbing his forehead frustratedly. "Last night after you and I...fought..." the word was said unwillingly through a clenched jaw, "someone knocked me over the head too. They tied me up in my quarters, to my bed post. I heard the crew shouting and I heard you...I heard you crying and-and screaming and I knew what was happening, I knew." He sucked in a wavering breath, running his hands through his black hair before continuing, "but I couldn't help. They tied me down good and all I could do was listen to you being hurt...listen to you begging for mercy..." Anya was unsure, but she swore that she saw a tear in the corner of his eye as he said the next few words, "and it killed me inside. It...killed...me."

Anya felt sympathy swell inside her chest, a familiar and comforting warmth that melted whatever anger she had felt, and she caved. Just as Killian could tell that she hadn't been lying when she'd said she was happy, Anya could tell that he was not lying about this. Every word was genuine, every emotion absolute. Suddenly, he was her Killian again and nothing could change that.

"You must have escaped somehow..." Anya said softly. Killian swallowed and replied, "Finally Smee came and found me, told me what was happening on deck. He cut the ropes free and I...stopped it."

Anya furrowed her forehead in confusion. "What does that mean?" She had a feeling that she didn't want to know, but her curiosity was peaked and she some part of her, that dark seed that everyone possesses, wanted to hear what horrible atrocities might have befallen the man, or men, that had hurt her. "The men had been taken turns lashing you. When I found you, it was Sylt who was up. I ran him straight through with my sword. Once the rest of the men saw that their captain was on deck, they shied away, cowards that they are. In all honesty, if they had all rebelled, Smee and I wouldn't have been able to take them...but fear cuts deeper than swords, I suppose." Killian emitted a sigh that stood somewhere between defeated and hopeless, before continuing. "I tried to find out who engineered this...scheme...but no one will come forward or blame someone else. It seems my men have developed their own set of twisted morals at the exact wrong time. I've implemented my own motivation system, however." A sly, awry smile spread across his face, one that embodied madness and made Anya fear what his next words might be. "Someone's bound to break very soon. I'm sure of that."

The young girl did not react to his words, only rubbed circles with her thumb on the back of his hand, not even noticing that he had held hers in the first place. She could worry about the psychological and physical welfare of her captors after she had healed from her wounds, and there were many. In fact, by the time she fully recovered, it might be too late for them. The thought was disgusting and crooked, but it appealed to Anya in a small, twisted way. She would not let herself succumb to that dark, contorted sense of justice, however. She may no longer be a nun or 'pure' in the traditional sense, but she neither tortured nor murdered.

Who was to say she couldn't love a man who did those things, though?

"Can we talk about something else? I find my conscious might not be able to bear it if you tell me what you're doing to them."

"Of course, love. I just wanted to say...I'm sorry for everything that's happened."

"Like you said, you had nothing to do with last night. You saved me, that means more to me than anything."

Killian shook his head and stood up, looking down at her on the bed. Carefully, he knelt beside her and began unwrapping the gauze that was wrapped tightly across her torso and chest. Anya did not mind that she was completely bare from waist up. "I'm not just talking about last night; I'm talking about it all. I'm sorry that I stole you away from your family. I'm sorry I forced you to live here with me." He said sincerely as he gestured for her to lay on her stomach. When she did so, he began rubbing a cream across her bruised and cut back that burnt as though it had been made in Hell itself. She winced unintentionally and he gave her a pitying look before continuing. "I...I relinquish you from your duties. You're not just a slave to me, Anya. You never were. And I'm so sorry that you think that. I'm so, so, so..." Killian winced when Anya muffled a cry of pain and surprise into her pillow; he had just rubbed the cream over her deepest and biggest gash of all. He was unsure whether or not this was hurting her or him more. "...Sorry." He finished softly, pulling her up into a sitting position and wrapping fresh gauze gingerly around her. Anya made a large effort not to wince or cry out in pain as he did.

When finally Killian was done with his torturous cures, he layed her gently on her back. Anya let out a relieved sigh before he kissed her on her forehead and made to leave. She grabbed his hand with her significantly smaller one and pulled, giving him a him a pathetic smile when he turned to look at her.

"I forgive you. I forgive it all." she whispered, tightening her grip on his hand. Then, with wide eyes brimmed with childlike longing and a hint of mocking playfulness, she asked, "Stay with me?" Killian looked to his feet and back at her, chuckling lightly to himself before squeezing her hand lovingly. He walked to the other side of the bed, pulled of his boots and layed down next to her, stringing his hands through her hair. He was careful not to disturb the bed too much so that he would cause her no more pain than she was already forced to endure. It seemed she could sense his stiffness beside her, though, as she cleared her throat awkwardly and told him, "I won't shatter if you touch me, Killian."

Said pirate turned his head towards her with a falsely perplexed expression and responded, "I don't know what you're talking about, Anya." As if to exaggerate his words, he tapped her playfully on the nose. She giggled youthfully and turned on her side so that she could face him, just barely suppressing her wince at the pain it shot through her body.

"If you want to make me feel better, just hold me. Hold me and never let me go."

Killian smiled at her as she said this, his chest swelling with something suspiciously similar to what he had felt so many years ago with his sister. He layed a tender kiss on her lips, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her to him. For a long while, they laid there like that, Killian holding her to his chest and kissing her, relishing the silence. Their minds were clouding as day turned to evening and evening into night, lying there all the while. Sleep was descending upon both of them, pulling their eyes closed and slowing their breathing.

In his last sacred moments of consciousness before he finally succumbed to his fatigue, Killian heard Anya whisper into his chest, "I'm happy."

And for the first time in a long time, Killian was too.