The crew began rousing themselves around noon. It was just too hot to sleep comfortably any longer. The shipwrecked survivors moved slow and gingerly, trudging through their tasks with stoic determination. There was a lot to be done. The ramshackle camp was mostly just strewn hammocks and bedrolls at the edge of the lagoon. There hadn’t been time or energy for much else, so the day’s first priority was to set up a more organized campsite. Nearly half the crew, lead by Mister Reeve, were off in the nearby woods gathering firewood. The sounds of hatchets rendering branches and small trees rang out from all around. Mister North was directing traffic, balancing a clipboard on his wounded hand and scribbling notes as he told people where to put the crates being brought down from the gangplank and the incoming piles of wood. Nearby, the Kestrel’s cook was running his small crew around the three cookfires like a frustrated jester who just found out he had to pretend to be the king. His leadership style was exactly the opposite of the placid and organized Quartermaster. 

“No, no, salt in that pot, flour in that one, bones in that one!” the cook shouted, one hand pressed against the side of his head. “First pot is lunch! Second is dinner! Third is for making glue! You salt it again, you’re going to eat it!” 

Will sat on a stump in front of the sailcloth awning Doctor Kalfou had claimed as a medical tent. Nearby was a series of cots that had been laid out for the severely wounded. Crewmen laid in them miserable, recovering from broken limbs, puncture wounds, and amputations. All that could be done for them had been. Now it was up to time.

The Doctor herself was finishing rebandaging Will’s  hand, making sure the bite wound hadn’t begun to fester. It was inflamed and quite swollen, but Friday was sure it was from bruising not infection. The good doctor had made the mistake of not keeping her footlocker locked when she was out of the room, and when the crew had retrieved it from her room it had opened, dumping most of her possessions into the remaining dirty water that had had not finished draining from the hold. So the clinic was surrounded by ropes tied between trees, drying every article of clothing she had. The only thing that had been clean was the outfit she had been wearing on Barcola, and her laboratory coat. Amid the dirty sailors trudging through the jungle and wading through the shallows, Doctor Kalfou was resplendent in white, and rather unhappy about it. Will, on the other hand, was enjoying the view.

“It’s warm enough, you’ll have dry clothes in an hour or two,’ Will shrugged.  He couldn’t help but smile as he looked down the valley of her vest while she leaned forward to work on his hand. He pretended not to notice, and she pretended not to notice him noticing. Neither was fooling the other.

Friday took a deep breath and sighed dramatically, fully aware of what that did to her chest. She casually looked herself over. “Know how much this outfit cost, you? It is white. Blood or grass stains will ruin it forever. Besides, my shoes do not match at all.” She half-laughed, aware of how ridiculous she sounded.

“I definitely noticed that,” Will deadpanned. “It was the first thing I thought when I made my way through the shipwreck camp to check if my hand was rotting off. Black flats with white trousers? What were you thinking?”

She finished his new bandage and gave his hand a squeeze that was just a little harder than she needed to. “The hand will not rot off. Today,” she said archly. 

“Thanks, Doc. We really should stop meeting like this,” Will smiled.

“If you wish to spend time with me, you do not need to keep injuring your hand. Your last wound has barely healed,” Friday smirked back.

Will tested the movement of his bandaged hand. “Am I that transparent?”

“Switch to a different limb next time. It was the repetition that gave you away,’ Friday teased. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Will grinned. 

“Now, what about the rest of you?” Doctor Kalfou asked.

Will winced a bit, not wanting to admit how badly he was hurt but knowing he should. With an apologetic look he unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants. Doctor Kalfou’s brows raise as she saw his legs. His thighs were covered in ropey bruises where the grindylow’s tentacles had wound around him and squeezed. He raised his chin so she could more easily see the bruises around his neck where he’d been strangled. 

“Seen so many of those,” Friday said sadly. “Not much I can do. They will fade.”

“I figured,” Will nodded. “Other than that it’s just the rope burns on my palms.”

“More I can do little about. I have balm, but others need it more.” the doctor shrugged. “Keep the burn clean, and if it swells or fills with fluid come to me.” 

Will pulled up his pants. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Shoo,” Doctor Kalfou said waving her hands at him. 

Will buckled his belt and headed off to find Jack. 

“Sterling!” a voice called out. Will turned his head, surprised. The cook was waving him over. He changed course, wondering what the cook needed from him. They’d only briefly met. Unlike most of the rest of the crew, a ship’s cook was nearly always away from everyone else. The crew rotated galley duty, helping as cook’s mates, but ship’s officers were exempt so Will had barely spoken to the man.

“Stewpot,” Will said as he approached. “What can I do for you?”

“Stewart ‘Stewpot’ Kees was a lanky, dark skinned man with a slight pot belly. Currently, his right arm was bandaged so thickly that only the ends of his fingers stuck free. Will had heard the crew joke that Stewpot didn’t actually own any shirts. He had aprons instead. He was an intense man, quick to yell at mistakes and laziness, but also constantly smiling and joking.

“A bunch of the foodstores were lost in the flood,” Stewpot said, not bothering with the niceties that usually came with casual acquaintances. “Mister North saved as much as he could, but I have a bunch of stuff I need to use before it turns. Here.” The cook pulled the cover off a slightly dented serving tray and offered Will a confection baked in a bread tray. 

Will’s brows rose. The top was a lattice of sugared pie crust with delicious smelling filling seeping from within. It looked slightly burnt at the edges and would have been rejected from nearly any bakery, but it was far more decadent than Will ever expected to see onboard a ship, much less a jungle island after a shipwreck. 

Will took it with slack jawed surprise. It was still warm. “Stu, how did you… why?” Will shook his head. “Is that peach cobbler?”

“Aye,’ Stewart grinned and handed Will a fork. “Picked up the sugar and peaches on Barcola. It was supposed to be a big thing for the whole crew in about a week, but only a bit of it made it through last night. It isn’t much, but I wanted to say thanks. You saved all our asses. If you see Miss Webber and Mister Quinn, tell them I have one for them too.” 

Will took a slow bite and rolled his eyes in pleasure as the taste flooded his mouth. “Damn, Stu. This is amazing. You made this on a campfire?”

Stewpot tilted his head and grinned, thumbing over his shoulder. “Naw. Ship’s right there.”

“Oh. Right. I guess the oven still works,” Will chuckled, feeling stupid. “Thanks, this is really too much.”

“Like hell!” The cook held up both hands in protest. “We’d all be dead if not for you.”

“I don’t know about that,” Will shrugged. 

“Well that’s what the crew thinks.” Stewpot insisted. “Look, I’ve been with the Captain a while. I signed on because she’s a living legend. Every story about her is some combination of damn fool crazy, and unbelievable nonsense. I wanted to see if the stories were true, so here I am. There’s been enough scrapes and wonders the last few years that I thought I was ready for anything, you know? I mean, there’s a reason I stuck around when she said she was going after the Drifts. Pretty much all of us who’ve been with her a while are like that. Whatever she’s a part of, we want a front row seat. Last night though… we ain’t never seen anything like that.” Stewpot lifted his injured arm, then pulled his apron aside so Will could see the mass of bruising around his ribs and chest. “While you were on that thrice-damned ship I took one of their tongues in the wrist. It dragged me in like a damn fish and started crushing the life out of me. I thought I was a goner. Would have been too, if not for Mister Reeve. I was laying there on my back trying to figure out how to breathe again when the blast went off and you three came diving off that wreck back to us. I don’t think you could see the other ship, right? Whatever you did made it jerk away from us like it was being yanked by the hand of the Warden herself. As soon as it was gone, the rest of those damn monsters jumped back into the drink. We all went from fighting for our lives to standing around like idiots in about ten seconds. The three of you ended it. The least I can do is make you a pie.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” Will said, not really sure what to say. “I’m glad you aren’t going to lose the hand.”

“The new Doc saved it,” Stew smiled. “She says it will take a long time to heal, but that’s better than a hook. She’s mighty impressive.”

“Aye,” Will said, talking around another bite of cobbler. “Most of us would be a lot worse off today without her. Fresh wounds and jungles are a dangerous mix.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Stewpot said. “Gotta get back to yelling at these amateurs. If I keep on ‘em, lunch will only be two hours late.”

Will laughed and gave Stewpot a wave as he left, then headed off again to find Jack. He found her having a conversation with Danica North. 

“That’s essentially what I had in mind anyway,” Jack was saying. “Just make sure no one wanders off into the jungle before I have a chance to talk to them.” 

“Aye,” the First Mate nodded. Her usual smile was missing at the moment. “What about Morant’s men? They seem to know what they’re doing, but I don’t know if they’re reliable. The whole crew knows they stayed below deck through most of the fight, and the tensions are already ratcheting up.”

“Wonderful,” Jack sighed. “As if this situation isn’t tense enough already.”

“Exactly. Coleman and I are still working out how to handle it,” Danica said. She noticed Will and gave him a curt wave before turning back to her discussion.

“They aren’t going to go anywhere unless Morant tells them to, and he’s going to keep them close,” Jack said, offering Will a glance of greeting mid-sentence. “They’re all trained survivalists, but you’re not going to be able to use them for scouting.”

“I guess that will be all on you,” Danica sighed, clearly frustrated. 

“Him too,” Jack nodded in Will’s direction. 

“Him too,” Will agreed around a mouthful of cobbler. 

“You do jungles?” Danica asked, impressed.

“Once or twice. I’m not as good as she is, but I probably won’t die right away,” Will shrugged.

“Sounds better than the rest of us,” Danica’s smile returned for a moment. “So what about Morant’s men?” she asked Jack.

“Link them up with your husband, and have them help him organize the base camp. That will keep them close to Morant, but also make them useful, and might help diffuse the tension with the rest of the crew,” Jack suggested.

Danica nodded slowly. “That’s a pretty subtle way of dealing with a bunch of problems at once.”

“I have my moments,” Jack said dryly.  

“Her dad’s a diplomat,” Will said with a smirk in Jack’s direction. “You’d never know it from how she usually handles things, but she’s actually pretty good at this stuff.”

Jack tipped her hat Will’s direction. 

“Did you see if the Doc was free yet?” Danica asked Will.

“Well, she has the infirmary up and running, but I think she’s done treating everyone so now it’s just looking after the ones who are bad off,” Will answered. “If you need to talk to her, now is probably a good time. You wounded?”

“Not badly.” she shrugged. “Scrapes and bruises mostly. I have some burns from where a spotlight blew up on me.” She gestured to her chest area. 

“Burns are very prone to infection,” Jack said, suddenly concerned. “In a jungle, that will kill you.”

Danica looked surprised, then sighed. “I already hate jungles.” She trudged off in the direction of the medical tent.

Will offered Jack his half-eaten peach cobbler. She raised an eyebrow at it, and took it like she thought he might be pulling a prank on her. He waited. She took a fork full and her eyes widened. “Where? How?” She took a bite and her eyes rolled back in pleasure. “What devil did you make a deal with?”

“The terrible demon, Stewpot,” Will grinned. 

“Stewpot is a ridiculous name for a demon,” Jack said, taking another bite.

“Pretty good name for a ship’s cook though.”

“Oh, is that his name?” Jack asked. 

“You’ve been on the ship longer than me, and you still haven’t learned the cook’s name?” Will asked pointedly.

Jack looked at the cobbler thoughtfully. “Clearly a mistake on my part.”

“You obviously forgot what I told you about ships,” Will chuckled. 

“You’ve told me a lot of things about ships. Most of it, not terribly useful,” Jack took another bite.

“The most important people to know are the cook and the quartermaster,” Will reminded her. 

“Mmm,” Jack said, swallowing. “Did you come find me just to give me folksy sailor wisdom?”

“I thought you might want your machete back,” Will pulled her sheathed blade from his belt.

Jack eyed it, then passed the cobbler back and took the weapon. She removed his sword from her belt, passed it to him, and fixed her blade back in it’s usual place at the small of her back. “What happened to your pistols, anyway?” she asked. “I noticed you don’t carry them anymore.”

“They’re back at the lighthouse. I stopped wearing them because I’d miss or misfire as often as I hit my target,” Will said around another bite of cobbler. “The last straw was when I missed a shot, and the bullet ricocheted into a lantern, set the ship on fire, and ended up snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. After that I hung them up. Too unreliable.”

“That’s awful.” Jack winced. Then she looked guilty. “I’m-”

“Sorry, I know,” Will nodded. “Things are already awkward enough with us without you feeling bad every time I talk about anything that’s happened in the last few years.”

“It really shouldn’t have…” She scowled. “It makes no sense.”

“I guess you don’t understand it as well as you think you do,” Will shrugged, handing the cobbler back to her so he could hang his rapier properly. 

She gave him a flat stare, her arrogant nature flashing up instantly, but softened right after. She nodded. “You’re right. I don’t. It’s infuriating.”

Things between them were tense. They both dealt with it similarly, by pretending it wasn’t there and trying to behave normally, but it simmered beneath the surface of everything, coloring every interaction with layers of doubt, worry, second-guessing, and bitterness. They were both used to that, and expected it. It had become the background noise of their new relationship, so in the rare moments when it suddenly stopped, the emotional silence was deafening. Jack admitting she was wrong was something Will wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to, and now here she was doing it again.

Will took a deep breath, finished fixing his belt and gave her a half-hearted smile. “We both know more than we did a few weeks ago. It’s a good start.”

“Now who’d being a diplomat?” Jack asked, returning his half-smile and the last of his cobbler. 

They looked at each other with so much left unsaid, for now, but they both noticed that it was starting to feel easier to be around each other. The situation was tense and frightening, but for these two there was something about being bickering while shipwrecked on an unexplored island that felt like home.

_________________________

Captain Vex sat against the wall in her cabin. She hated how still her ship was. It was lodged against a sandbar at the edge of a lagoon to keep from sinking. Gone was the comforting rocking of the waves and the creak of the timbers. The Kestrel felt dead.

Captain Vex wished she was. She sat motionless, limply holding her silver flask. Her red-rimmed eyes stared at the shelves on the opposite wall. She knew every knick knack. She could track the arc of her career on that wall. Places. Adventures. People. They were her trophies. Her treasure. They were the life she’d worked so hard to create.

The top shelf was lined in delicate white plates and cups, beautifully painted with images of trees with blooming pink petals and squarish arches with swept tops. Only a few were fully intact. Most had cracks or chips. They were all old, recovered from scavengers. Of all the legends of the seas, they represented the one Captain Vex loved the most. They were relics of a lost people. 

The Kami.

No one knew who they were, or where they had gone. They’d simply vanished, leaving behind incredible works of art, craftsmanship, and architecture unlike anything seen anywhere else in the world. Adventurers and archaeologists had discovered some of their history, but nothing of how they had learned to make such strange and wondrous crafts, or what happened to them.

The story sailors told was that they weren’t really gone. They walked among us still, looking like everyone else. They’d left behind their homes and their own way of life and faded into the world. Anyone you passed on the street might secretly be one of them. That was their way. They wore names like clothes. If you made friends with a Kami, and learned the truth of them, it was best to keep their secret. If you ask them, or revealed their identity to anyone else, they would vanish forever, and go take on a new name somewhere else. 

Captain Vex had always felt a kinship with the tales of the Kami. She found comfort in the idea that anyone she met might have a secret legend, that a person could create a new version of themselves whenever they needed to. Mostly though, she liked the story because it made her feel like less of a fraud.

Her ship was broken, her crew was scattered and shaken, there were bodies waiting to be buried. Her luck had been bound to run out sooner or later. It was said that the sea reveals a person’s true self. There was no way she was going to keep up her ruse forever. She’d always known that someday the truth would come out. She was just angry that she’d survived it. Every part of her wanted to run. To vanish into some legend like the Kami, to take a new name and become someone else. Again.

This time there was nowhere to go.

She tried to take a drink from her flask, but it was long since empty. With a shriek of  sudden rage, she hurled it. One of the delicate white cups exploded, falling to the floor in a dozen pieces. 

She put her face in her hands and wept again.

________________________

Tonya bit her lip and closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the sensation. The client behind her had big hands that nearly encircled her waist. He was driving into her at a delightfully slow but firm pace, drawing her off of his cock like he was trying to be a bit gentle, then pulling her back to him just as slowly, but with a delicious impact right at the end. He really wasn’t bad. Certainly better than most. Not bad looking, and not bad with his hands. She liked being touched, and he liked touching. He was one of her regulars, and when he’d come in she’d been thrilled. After the previous two disappointments of the afternoon she felt like she was about to start crawling the walls. 

Today was the first day she could think of that she didn’t love her job. Normally she could get off with nearly every client. Bella said she was gifted. That sensitive spot inside her was apparently extra sensitive, by comparison to most women. There was almost always a position where a cock could bump it or rub past it the right way, and within a few minutes she’d just be rolling through orgasms. 

Not today.

She could feel it, that hot, wet tension building inside her, just like it always did. It seemed like she was close a few times, but just like the other night every time she got close the tension would slip away, cool a bit, release just enough to not let her get to that luscious breaking point that she desperately craved. 

Her John started to pick up his pace. Her hands clenched in the sheets. She loved it. The steady, driving rhythm. The feeling of fullness. His strong hands, and that perfect bumping of that nexus of pleasure tucked a few inches inside her. She had an unspoken theory that some women were just better built for sex than others. It was a private source of pride for her. She might be a poor, uneducated, flat-chested orphan, but she could out-fuck any woman she’d ever met. Well, save for Bella. Someday, she thought she might be able to surpass her teacher too. After all, sex magic was about sex, and nobody loved sex as much as she did. 

She loved her life now. She had a room, she ate every day, she was surrounded by fun people, Caine and Chance were always around to make sure she was safe, she got paid to do what she loved most, and made a pretty good living at it. A few months ago Chance told her she was pretty consistently in the top three earners at Mary’s, not because she did anything special that cost extra, or because she had high-rolling regulars, but because she put in the hours and racked up the numbers. A quick dip and wash between clients was all she needed before she was out on the floor again. Her co-workers teased her about her love of cocks. She knew it was probably a bit too much when a bunch of whores told her that she was too much of a whore, but she wasn’t ashamed. Cocks were proof of the love of the gods. They were all different, but they could all bump that button inside her enough to get her off. She had a regular who came in avery couple months who was too small to reach that spot, but she still enjoyed being with him because it let her practice getting off by playing with her clit instead. Bella kept telling her that she needed to practice sexual skills individually, but most of the time she couldn’t. That spot inside her was too sensitive, so the only way she could practice external orgasms is if there wasn’t any penetration at all. As soon as something was inside her, it took the reins. 

Like now, for instance. Her hand was working furiously between her legs. Her head rolled to the side and pressed into the mattress, her breath ragged and full of breathy, demanding moans. The cock inside her was knocking on her pleasure button with every stroke, and her clit was buzzing with electrical joy, but it just wasn’t enough. She clenched and writhed and tried, but nothing worked. 

She couldn’t come. 

With a final thrust her John emptied his lust inside her and held her hips, breathing heavily for another minute. She just lay there, silently tangled in emotional knots, trying to figure out what was wrong with her.

Emptiness bloomed inside her as he withdrew. The gush and drip that she usually enjoyed was without any of the usual aftershocks. There was no satisfaction this time. Her John thanked her and got up from the bed. Her legs pushed out straight. She heard him get dressed but didn’t move. He asked if she was alright. She nodded. “You wore me out, sweetheart. I’m just going to rest a bit.” 

He left feeling proud. She stayed where she was feeling frustrated and confused. 

_______________________________

“Get out!” Belita snapped as the door to her cabin opened. 

Bella froze, the words she tried to say dying on her lips as a cold, clammy fear gripped her heart. She gave the captain a fast nod and closed the door. The heavy thud of th wood hitting the frame jolted her.. She leaned against the wall for a moment, forcing her heart and breath to slow. She looked down at her shaking hands. What was that? What was Belita doing? Why was she angry? Bella took a few deeper breaths. Why had she reacted like that? The captain was her friend, and obviously hurting. Why was she so… scared?

On slightly wobbly legs, she walked across the ship, down the gangplank, and through the bustling camp to the infirmary. She felt like she was floating. She was moving, but she wasn’t really feeling her feet hit the ground. Everything felt distant and automatic. She found Doctor Kalfou talking to Danica North. The First Mate was buttoning her shirt back up and nodding. Whatever she was saying cut off as she saw Bella. She tapped Doctor Kalfou on the arm and gestured. The Doctor’s eyes found her and went wide. She walked over slowly. ”What happened?”

There was a hollow rushing in Bella’s ears. She hadn’t noticed it, but through the fog in her head she realized she wasn’t really hearing anything. Noticing that helped drag her back to coherency. The Doctor had said something, but she didn’t know what. She felt like she couldn’t speak. All she could do was shake her head. 

The Doctor said something to Danica, who nodded and ran off into the camp, but Bella didn’t really register. She felt strange. Distant. Not really able to think. She wanted to ask for help, but didn’t know what to ask for. She let the doctor lead her to a crate covered in a blanket and let herself be sat down. The doctor checked her neck, her eyes, ran her fingers through her hair, and seemed deeply concerned. Bella wanted to reassure her. She smiled. It was all she could manage.

Danica came running back with Jack, who rushed up and practically threw herself to her knees in front of Bella. Their hands clasped. Jack snapped her head back and forth between Bella and the Doctor, talking quickly. Bella’s brows furrowed. Jack. She wanted to say…

“Jack!” Bella forced out, pushing herself off the crate and into Jack’s arms. They held each other, on their knees, Jack petting Bella’s hair and whispering reassurances to her. Bella sobbed. 

Danica and Doctor Kalfou waited. “What happened?” Danica asked.

“Do not know, I,” Doctor Kalfou shook her head, worried.

“She was white as a ghost,” Danica said, her concern plain on her face. 

“Saw it last night also, during the attack,” Doctor Kalfou nodded. “She came into the infirmary and looked just like that, pale and unresponsive. Miss Hunter managed to get through to her, and then I kept her focused at the time but whatever it is, it is clearly not dealt with.”

“It’s just her,” Jack said quietly. “She used to wake up screaming, and slip into that fugue. She just needs to be held until she comes back.”

Doctor Kalfou took a small breath of surprise and understanding.

“Night terrors. Right,” Danica nodded “Had a crewman who used to get them. The Captain’s old first mate before me managed to cure them. Seems weird during the day though.”

“No,” Doctor Kalfou shook her head. “For Miss Fortuna, her nightmares are a symptom. As is this dissociative state.”

Danica was confused. “A symptom of what?”

“Miss Hunter, did Miss Fortuna… survive something terrible?” the Doctor asked.

Jack slowly nodded. “Lots of things. She’s N’madi. Her childhood was one long string of horror and survival.”

“The Purges,” Doctor Kalfou said, her voice full of flint.

Jack nodded again, still holding Bella tightly. 

“The Witch Purges On the Mainland?” Danica asked. Doctor Kalfou nodded. Danica looked sicked. “I’ve heard stories. I thought they had to be exaggerated. It all sounded like stuff the Skinsails might do. Whole caravans of people rounded up and burned. People branded, imprisoned, hung, just because there were Witches in their family. Bella survived that?”

“She lost almost everyone she’d ever known,” Jack said. “I think she lived through three different slaughters, and a few other close calls. Her mother saved her, over and over again.”

“Four,” Bella muttered quietly. She unburied her face from the crook of Jack’s neck and gave her a weak smile. “But that was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter now.”

Jack nodded and helped her to her feet. 

“Sorry to cause such a fuss,” Bella said, wiping her eyes. “I don’t know what came over me. I guess last night hit me harder than I thought.”

“Sit,” Doctor Kalfou said firmly.

“No, it’s alright,” Bella said, smoothing her skirts. “You have more important things to do, and I really need to go find my Familiar.”

Doctor Kalfou clapped once, loudly. Bella grabbed Jack in a death-grip and buried her face in Jack’s shoulder, closing her eyes tightly. Jack put her arms around her again and glared at the Doctor. Then Bella slowly relaxed relaxed, let go, and looked at her shaking hands. 

She sat down. “I think something’s wrong.”

Doctor Kalfou nodded. “Trauma sometimes leaves behind emotional echoes. They can come back in other times of stress.”

“Like nightmares,” Danica said, starting to understand.

“Or suddenly finding yourself in a room full of blood and screams,” Doctor Kalfou said gently. 

“What happened this time?” Jack asked.

Bella looked a little sheepish. “The Captain yelled at me.”

Jack felt herself getting angry. “Bitch,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Why?” Danica asked, confused. “That’s not like her.”

“I went into her cabin. I didn’t know she was in there. I must have interrupted her. She told me to leave, so I did,” Bella’s brows narrowed in thought. “I couldn’t see much. My eyes hadn’t adjusted. I think she was… sitting on the floor. I don’t think she was doing very well.”

Danica sighed and rubbed her temples. “Dammit. I got this.” She walked off toward the shore. 

“Always worried about everyone except yourself,” Jack smiled sadly. She sat down next to Bella on the crate and squeezed her hand. 

“I’m alright, really,” Bella insisted. 

“For now,” Doctor Kalfou said.

“Well yeah. That’s the way it always is. I just have to avoid the things that set me off,” Bella shrugged. “I’ve gotten pretty good at it. I’m just feeling a little raw after last night.”

“You do not have to live like this,” Doctor Kalfou said, kneeling down in front of her.

“It’s not like a wound you can stitch up. It’s just who I am,” Bella shrugged. 

“No,” the Doctor said. “It is what was done to you. It is like a wound. It can be stitched up. It is not who you have to be.”

Jack looked back and forth between Bella and the Doctor, hopeful and surprised. Bella looked troubled. “How?”

“We would start just by talking,” Doctor Kalfou said gently. 

“I really don’t like to talk about it,” Bella shook her head. 

The Doctor nodded. “That is why it keeps returning.”

“You think it’s going to stop if I talk about it?” Bella laughed. “I’ve talked about it before. It’s still here.”

“What happens if you let someone who doesn’t know what they are doing stitch a wound?” Doctor kalfou asked.

“Infection? Torn stitches. Big scars?” Jack answered.

“It gets worse,” Bella said, sounding resigned. “Alright. I’ll try it. When?”

“Tonight,” Doctor Kalfou said. “Once the day’s work is done. After we eat. Until then, just be very gentle with yourself, and if you feel strange at all, come find me.”

Jack gave Bella a reassuring smile. “It sounds like I have a little time until the captain talks to the crew. How about we go find your awful monkey?”

Bella nodded. She wasn’t actually feeling better, but she was awfully good at faking it.

__________________________

Caine leaned in the doorway after the client left. Tonya was face down on the bed, naked, her legs spread wide, thick semen leaking out of her. 

He was painfully hard. The sight of her sent all kinds of impulses racing through him. He’d been living in the brothel for years, seen many of the girls in similar states, and never had those thoughts. Hell, he’d even seen Tonya like this before and not had those thoughts. He always figured if anyone’s sexuality wasn’t aimed at him specifically, he didn’t need to be thinking about them in a sexual way, no matter what the situation was. Even the times when the men and women who worked at Mary’s had shown interest in him, he knew better than to get involved. It had been a very long time since he’d been a soldier, but he still had strong feelings about fraternization. He never should have agreed to have sex with Tonya. He knew it was going to have repercussions. He just didn’t expect them to be this soon, or this… strange.

“‘Is’sat you Caine?” Tonya said quietly without turning over to look.

“Yeah,” he answered. 

“Enjoying the view?” she asked. None of her usual mirth was present.

He sighed. “Something’s wrong.”

“I’ve noticed,” she said flatly, still not moving. 

“Any idea what it is?” Caine asked.

“No, but I hate it,” Tonya growled.

“It’s not a whole lot of fun on this end either,” Caine agreed.

“What?” Tonya asked, finally rolling over. “What do you mean your end?”

“I keep feeling these… feelings. Impulses. I don’t know where they’re coming from. Also, I’m tired,” Caine tried to explain. He wasn’t the best with words under any circumstances, and this was even worse than usual.

“Me too,” Tonya said with a small frown. “What kind of feelings?”

Caine sighed. He knew she was going to ask, but hoped she wouldn’t. “Sex… stuff. Can we not talk about it?”

“Sex stuff is my favorite subject,” she said with a half-smile. Her heart wasn’t in it though.

“It isn’t mine,” Caine shook his head. “I don’t have a problem with it, obviously, but I’m not the best at talking about it. I don’t even know where to begin, so I’d rather not.”

“About me?” Tonya asked, surprised and a little flattered.

“Caine nodded. “Mostly.”

“Want another go?” Tonya raised an eyebrow in teasing invitation and spread her knees wider.

“No.” Caine sighed at Tonya’s subtle look of rejection. “Well, yes, and that’s the problem. This isn’t normal.”

“I think I should be offended,” Tonya said. There was no venom or humor in her words. Just resignation. “Wanting me is completely normal.”

“Not for me,” Caine shrugged.

“I’m definitely offended,” Tonya sighed. 

“It isn’t personal,” Caine tried to reassure her.

“I know,” she nodded sadly. It occurred to her that she really did know. She believed him completely, and even felt like she understood what he was trying to say underneath the bluntness of his phrasing. The way he felt about her was troubling him because it made him feel like he wasn’t in control of himself. She gave him a small smile. “This is important to you, isn’t it? It isn’t just the weird feelings. It’s not knowing why.”

Caine chuffed out a mirthless laugh. “You’re spending too much time around Janie.”

“What, I’m wrong? Sorry.” Tonya said, chagrinned. 

“No, you’re right. That’s exactly it,” Caine shrugged. “I don’t think these feelings are natural. I think it’s something that happened to me with that ritual.”

Tonya looked incredulous. “When I blew up Bella’s alcove, yo think I made you all… lusty about me?” 

“Something like that,” Caine nodded, knowing how stupid it sounded.

“Do you think it might have done something to me too?” Tonya asked.

Caine shrugged. “No idea. Magic is weird. What do you think it did to you?”

“I can’t fucking come!” Tonya erupted, all her frustration spilling out of her all at once. Caine felt something strange in his chest, like something was pulling the breath from his lungs. Fatigue hit him abruptly. Tonya kicked her heels into the mattress and pounded it with her tiny fists as she threw her head back into the pillow. With a sudden crack and poof and a tiny yelp from Tonya, the bedframe snapped and the mattress burst, throwing feathers everywhere. 

Caine didn’t have time to think. He felt a mild shockwave hit him, like a particularly strong gust of wind. He took two steps into the room on instinct but stopped as soon as he realized there was no lasting danger. He waved in front of his face, trying to clear the feathers. He watched as the bedframe slowly finished cracking. It sunk in the middle, lowering the broken center of the frame to the floor and turning the whole bed into a shallow V shape. The burst mattress partially swallowed Tonya and the sinking bed folded her so her arms and legs were sticking up awkwardly.

“What?” Tonya gasped. “What the hell was that?” She sneezed as the feathers tried to settle on her face.

“You broke the bed,” Caine deadpanned, his voice full of confusion and disbelief. 

“Aaaaugh!” Tonya yelled, thrashing her arms and legs ineffectively before letting them go limp. She was stuck in the wreckage of the bed and absolutely exhausted. “What is wrong with me?”

Caine stepped in and offered her a hand. She took it and he gently pulled her up out of the mattress, sending more feathers swirling through the air. As their hands touched, they both felt something, like a swell between them. Caine’s breath caught in his chest and a tingle ran over him, like she’d just ran her fingertips up his spine. His sudden erection was uncomfortable and surprising. He let go like he’d been burned.

“Waaah!” Tonya yelped as she fell back into the ruined mattress sending even more feathers into the air. She was breathing heavily, like she was winded. “What? What is going on?”

Caine looked at his hand, then at her, then very slowly reached out for her again. She hesitantly took his hand. He didn’t pull her. They just held each other’s fingertips gently and stared confused into each other’s eyes as they felt a strange pulling sensation flowing out of Tonya and into Caine. The strange fatigue he’d felt earlier lifted somewhat, and Tonya lay her head back, rubbing her face and swooning. “Damn, I’m exhausted. What did you do?”

“I don’t think I did anything,” Caine said.

“Well it isn’t me,” Tonya shook her head gently. She yawned, and then started coughing and spitting as feathers swirled into her mouth. 

The strange feeling passing between them seemed to equalize. The connection was still there, but nothing was flowing at the moment. Tonya pulled a bit, prompting Caine to help her up. She wiped her mouth and picked out the last feather as she got to her feet. “I’m so tired.” She leaned against him, barely able to stand. Her eyes drooped. Standing up was all she could manage.

Caine had no idea what to think. The whole situation was absurd. They were both covered in feathers. He felt great all of a sudden, and she was barely conscious. 

“Bath,” she said quietly, pointing to the door, then letting her arm drop to her side again. 

Caine sighed, scooped up her tiny body, and carried her out of the room.