Lightning Strikes, And the storm is breaking...

[Liz]

Silence hung over London like a shroud, and whatever stars there might have been were hidden behind layer upon layer of heavy sky. Everything seemed heavy, in fact, as they approached the docks.
Redjack felt Lily's hand tighten on his fingers like a vise, and his throat seemed to shrink accordingly. Not much air made it to his lungs.
As the three of them stepped onto the deck of the boat, and the water made lapping sounds that chilled him more than any storm, he realized he was not afraid for himself. Not anymore.
But there was a look about the girls that worried him more than anything.
Of a sudden, the air was nothing but pregnant silence, and the Irishman looked from port to starboard, wound tight as a watch-spring. After what seemed an eternity, he called out, "Muireann!"

The air...waited. That's all it did. Oh, the man was bold. And oh, the man was lovely. Oh, he was something rich and grand and made the world delicious...
Somewhere, Muireann sucked air into her lungs (what silly organs!) and hissed into the air. It swirled around her supplicants and tasted of decay and rich, strange spices..but she watched them and would not come out.

Liz looked stubbornly away from Redjack and Lily, out towards the river, and felt her hand convulse in her pocket. Why wouldn't she come out? It was time and past, they'd kept their bargain and now it was her turn.
But not all the money in London could make her say that out loud.

"Mortal woman." the whisper came in the wind, on a breath of sea air. It was a lightness amidst the heady and thick and choking. And somewhere in the dark salted air Muireann's lips curled. "Have you brought me all I asked?"
For whatever reason, those words made Ryan's intestines squirm. He stared at Liz, to better scrutinize whatever reply she gave.

That voice curled around her spine and chilled it, wound its way down her arms and made her hands shake. "I brung it," Liz said, deliberately and perversely lifting her chin. "You brung what I want?"

"What's she talking about, Lizzie?" the Irishman asked softly, his voice uncharacteristically measured and slow.
Liz ignored him. He'd find out soon enough anyway.

When the witch emerged from the shadows it was almost...anti-climactic. After using her voice to toss the wilted sails and carry China to their noses, the sight of a ragged dockside liberty-comfort slinking out of the shadows, her bare feet coated with muck and her skirts tucked up to keep out of it, it was almost surprising.
But she smiled that tiny crooked smile of hers and swiped a few dank snakes of hair off her forehead. "Good." her voce was little hoarse, sea-water and wind.
"It was'na hard, was it?" her eyes were hot and bright.

Liz spat to the side, unwilling to look the Dockwitch--or what the Dockwitch had become--in the face. "Hard enough."

A soft laugh..it was almost kind. "But not so hard." came the soft, husky voice. A bit of wind plucked at Liz's hair, touched Ryan's cheek and Lily's hands. "Yer here, they're here.."

"Hello, Muireann," Redjack said softly, for all the world it might have seemed he hadn't even heard this exchange. But heard it he had.

Her face turned to him. And the smile that broke upon her face was real and pleased and seemed like dawn on the docks. "Ryan." she breathed. "Ye came. An' it's well pleased I am, too." her begrim'd feet pattered to him, her hand left a smudge on his freckled cheek to make it match her own a little better.

Lily stared. She tried not to stare but she did. And her hand clenched around the Irishman's.
Who was this woman to touch her Ryan...her darling and knight? Her eyes lowered..she didn't have the gumption to glare. She felt a little sick..

"I had t'come. Couldn't not..." he replied, and touched her hair. For a moment it was easy to forget that they were not the only two there, even with Lily's hand tight around his own. "Ye ought'a know that..."

"I know." it was almost a whisper. Oh...she wanted to press close, to kiss the firmness of his mouth, to...she settled for cupping his cheek, letting her thumb slide slow and tender against his lips. And stepped away, turning back to Liz.
"Well then. Pay."

Liz looked straight at Muireann for the first time in the encounter, and held out Lily's necklace. But she could not bring herself to touch the other woman. She just couldn't.
Horror and disgust held her still, arm out and trembling.
"Take it," she forced out.

But Muireann didn't. She examined the thing...as if it was something she'd dreamt about. As if it was something she lusted for almost feared - her breath caught a little and she touched it. So hesitant, as if she were afraid it would become sea spray and be lost.
Her eyes flickered up. "Ach! Did ye even *know* what ye had?"

"Would someone mind tellin' me what's goin' on here?" Ryan frowned deeply, and his eyes flipped about the three women quickly.
Liz couldn't listen to the others. Being close to the Dockwitch made the whore's skin crawl and writhe like there were tiny little creatures climbing all over her. Creatures or wavelets... She shivered, and thrust the necklace at the Dockwitch again. "Take it!"

The witch ignored the whore utterly. Her eyes were completely taken by the trinket. Which was strange..it was only a rather baroque locket, old and dull, it's impossibly complex pattern shining with a battered lustre. But to her... Her hands were – astonishingly - trembling as she touched the thing and finally pulled it into her hands. "Yeh had no idea." she breathed. "The pow'r in this thing. Can't find the like....anywhich' from shore t'shore." her murmuring was distracted, she trembled a little as the chain it wrapped around her hand, she kissed the little locket. "There. I've ye now. Safe. Held close." She almost seemed to speak to the tarnished gold, as if it could hear her. As if, somehow, somewhere...something was listening.

[Lily Clarke]

Liz jerked away as soon as Muireann had taken the necklace, and stumbled backwards to brace herself against the side of the ship. So close. So close to being done, so close to waking up from this long, horrible nightmare. Bile rose in her throat, she swallowed it down. There would be time for all that later.
There was a gust of wind then, and Ryan could feel every hair on his body stand on end. He suddenly felt very worried about something, although what that could be, he knew not.
"That...was yer payment?" he asked incredulously. "What now?"

For a moment, the witch was silent. Her eyes met his, though, and they held something

It was Lily that finally broke the dockwitch out of the stange loving stare. "That were *mine*" she blurted suddenly. She didn't care. It was hard enough to be terrified when she could be warm and safe in bed.
It wasn't enough for Liz to steal the only thing she had to remind her of her family! And then for them to drag her along when all she wanted was to curl away somewhere and sob out her poor broken heart. But for the dockwitch to act so...familiar! The way she touched the locket. The way she'd touched Ryan...Lily couldn't keep her mouth shut. She set her little jaw. "It were MINE." her voice raised. "An' yeh 'ad no right to it! Whacher wannit fer, anyhow!"
"That's enough, Lil," Ryan said sternly, and looked down at the girl with wide eyes.

"It AIN'T!" the young whore shouted and was almost scared by the volume of her own voice.
Almost. "Why'd yer want my mum's necklace? An..." she looked at her former friend. "Why'de she have t'bring us!" a choked sob came from her throat. "Whattya WANT from us?!"
He grabbed her by the arm and shook her, a little harder than he probably should have. "I said that's enough, Lil."

They might have fought, repeatedly and often, but it wasn't Lily's fault what'd happened, and Liz did remember that. She darted forward, grabbed the younger girl by the arms and shook her hard, trying to avoid those accusing eyes.
"Shut up, Lily!" she hissed, quick and soft. "Shut up! Doncha see what she can do to yer? Shut up!"

"I don't care!" the girl said. She was afraid of Ryan's anger. And Liz's even more.
And that was nothing compared to the strange creature that held her most precious thing and acted like it had always been hers.
By now a strange hysteria had overtaken the girl and she shook and her eyes were full of fever.
"I HATE you!" she cried. "I hate you and yer damned sea and I hate you for takin' my necklace and I hate Liz and..." she'd never turned against Ryan. But her eyes turned on him now.. "And yeh WANT her." she accused. "That awful, 'orrid, *unnatch'ral* THING!"

In all his life, he'd never hit a woman. It was odd, that he would have so stringent a moral code, since he'd made his entire living off of fleecing the greedy. Still, there were a few places where he drew the line.
He'd never laid a hand on a female with the intention of hurting her, and certainly not one as dear as Lily. Perhaps that is why the sound of his open palm crossing her face surprised Redjack more than anyone else.
n the silence that followed, he stood shaking and looking down at Lily with clear horror in his eyes.
He couldn't speak, his mouth just opened and closed like that of a fish, and he thrust the offending hand behind his back as though that would somehow erase the action.

Lily could only hold her reddening cheek and stare up at the man who'd been her friend since she was small
...then her lover and sometimes she imagined even her love. He'd...sworn never to hurt her. Sworn to look after her. Sworn on the bible! Tears sprung into her eyes and she choked.

Ryan's hand was met by another. Muireann looked at Lily without pity. Oh...there was a time she'd have felt sympathetic for the girl. Would have gathered her up, too, and comforted her. A time before the waves had closed back over her head and the darkness choked her and...
But now...she had what she wanted, and the girls' insults burned her ears and made her eyes flash. For a moment the hand with that precious bauble in it raised the the wind rose with it...and then she smiled. Her arms wrapped loosely around Redjack's shoulders, and from behind him she rested her chin gently on his shoulder. "Forget her." she whispered. "Forget her."

He recoiled. He spun, and glared at her fiercely. "Don't," he said stiffly. "I will not."

[Redjack Ryan]

A tempest rose. And died just as quickly. It rose when Muireann stepped forward, anger making her bright and as beautiful as she'd ever been. It died when her mouth fixed to Redjack's...her kiss as demanding and unrelenting as her fiery nature. She kissed him hard and hungrily, her hands winding into his hair.

Lily stood in mute shock...both in horror and in pride. Horror because that..thing...was kissing her darling, her adored Ryan. And in pride..oh, her little heart swelled with pride! Because even though it was rash and unwise...he'd stood for her. He'd faced that awful witch and told her 'no'...Lily was starting to give a soft and tremulous smile when her little body buckled.

But no-one noticed her..she was almost thankful.

Enough. That was enough. Liz grabbed Lily's arm, caught and held her upright, and pulled her away from the couple. Enough now. They had not come for this. She glared at Muireann with hate hot in her eyes, and spat more than said, "We paid. Do what yer owe us."

Muireann pulled her mouth from Ryan's and gulped int eh salty air She seemed almost unconcerned now...she looked over at Liz and shook her head. "Ye haven't paid atall." Her hands dropped almost numbly to her sides...and her eyes only flickered to Ryan's. The words she'd practiced were in her mind..but she'd kissed him and she'd claimed him...she forgot him for a moment to face Liz's accusation, "Ye aint' paid." she gasped. "The locket. Luck. Life." She looked and Liz, and waited.

Liz had gone pale, white as chalk lines on alley walls. "We paid," she insisted. "Yer got the locket. Yer got what yer needs."

"Luck. Life." A slight shake of the head, and Muireann passed a hand over her brow and brushed back her hair. "Ye knew the other two. So choose. Who pays and what?"

Meanwhile, Ryan had fallen to his knees. He felt drained, more exhausted than he ever had in his entire life. "What's she talkin' about, Lizzie? What's goin' on?"

Speechless, lost for air, all Liz could do was clutch at her dress and shake her head. "Yer never said," she insisted, her voice getting increasingly desperate. "Yer never said!"

"Ha!" a slight smile..but a bitter one. "Drag me from 'ome! All the way back, fer what? Your games, your whims!" and she laughed..but there was no pleasure in it. Only scorn and exhaustion and pure, dark hate. "Mortal woman! I wanted the locket, aye. Fer *me*. " the looked up at the sky. "Bu' what did ye think I was teh' use?"

Life. Life. The Dockwitch needed life, and to give her life, she would need one of the others. Liz looked at them, at her friends. Not them. No. Not even he was worth that. "I'll get you life," she said, still looking at Redjack and Lily. "I ain't brought it now but I'll get you life." Get some hayseed drunk, knock him on the head and bring him out here...

"Where?" Muireann demanded. "Now? Give it now!"

The Dockwitch sounded so...hungry...a chill of panic tightened her throat. "I ain't got it now," she said, trying to sound brave, or scornful, or anything but terrified. "I'll get it quick, though."

"Life," Ryan muttered under his breath. He staggered to his feet and made his way toward the women. "Ye're goin' t'kill a man, Lizzie? Is that it?" he asked incredulously, almost sarcastically. "That's lovely. Brilliant. An' just how are ye goin' t'do it?"

The dockwitch tried to manage a smile. She didn't quite. She was bitter and flat. "Whattya think she brought ye for?"

"No help from you," Liz retorted, and looked away from him. "Ain't yer business, is it?"

His eyes flicked back and forth between the two women. "Ye meant t'kill me Lizzie? Or t'have me do th'killin' for ye?"

She snapped back to look at him, hurt that he would consider it, hurting that he would have to. "No," she hissed, low and deadly. "I'll do it my own self and I don't need yer help!"

"These games." spat the witch. "Now. Finish this now, girl. Why...make that one pay...' a scornful gesture at the crumpled Lily. "And not the rest o'yeh?"

Lily lowered her head under her brow pressed against the cold slick boards. Not me she prayed. Please please please, not me...

"It ain't her money!" Liz burst out. "It's just a bloody necklace, it ain't life! I'll bring yer somebody!"

Those eyes narrowed. "Before three high waves." Said the woman. She turned and looked out over the sea. How long had she waited, years, to go back? And it had lasted such a short time... "That's all."

[Muireann]

Liz tried. She really did. It wasn’t her fault that the one man had balked at actually going onto a ship (though she’d gotten a shilling or two out of that), or that the boy she’d caught hold of had proved to be more wiggly than she’d expected and had fled. She’d tried. And she had failed.

Coming back to the ship was hard. She’d been so tempted to just run away and never look back. Let the others fend for themselves; they’d never had any right to come and butt in on her business. But the thought of Valentine, and of her friends, an unexpected loyalty that she’d never really known existed in her dragged her back, step by stubborn step, until she stood empty-handed and terrified in front of the Dockwitch and said, “I ain’t got it,” in a soft, defeated voice worse than any tears.

Muireann was still staring out to see, her eyes dark and flat. "No sacrifice." she turned. "What then? That one?" a look at the soppy little thing that seemed to have some tiny sliver of Redjack's loyalty. "Him?" she pointed at the lover she wanted, adored...but his moments of distraction burned in her belly and made her want to loose his blood.

Ryan looked up with hard eyes. "S'that what ye want, then? S'that it?" He stepped forward, arms spread, his feet making painfully hollow sounds on the dock. As he neared the witch his steps didn't slow. "Kill me then, take yer payment, f'that's what ye need." He stopped, and looked over his shoulder at Liz. "I hope it's worth it," said the grifter flatly.

She only stood there, paralyzed, shaking and unable to move. She'd only felt like this once, on the ship, with the Dockwitch and the others and the screaming...

“Tain't a matter o' want, me lad.” Slowly, slowly, the witch's bare feet moved over the deck. She drew close to Ryan...so close. His breath fanned her cheeks and her hands wound into his hair and she drew near. "That's what it takes." she explained. "Can't jus' make life. Goter get it somewhere..." she muttered all this against his neck, her mouth pressed there fervently. After a moment her hands moved to his shoulders and dug in. So, so hard. Her nails bit him and her mind went over every time, every inconstancy...I won't share you. I won't. I won't ever. "Yer sure?"

Any other man, she never would have asked.

"No," he responded, and pulled back just a bit. He looked into her ancient eyes, frowning deeply all the while. "I'm not sure. But if that's what it takes..." he sighed. "Go on, then. 'Afore I change me mind."

It would hurt. Hurt so much, she knew. But they'd called her. Sent her token into the sea. And they'd paid her. Fortune. Life. Power. Everything....she could just turn now, let the sea close over her head and be done with the land of men forever. It was so tempting she trembled.

And that was the really, really awful part, she suddenly realised. She wrapped the knowledge of what her existance would become if she did that around her like a blanket. It would be terrible..her rules were not the rules of mortal men, but there were rules. And she clung to that...because after so much time on land the thought of forsaking forever the joys and pleasures of land-life--though nothing to the nourishment of the sea - saddened her. To lose the fiddling and the crazed pleasure of dancing until her lunges burned...to forsake forever the lusty joy of mortal men in her arms and in her bed, to know them only as cold, dead things... it made her shudder.

There were rules.

She closed her eyes and took Redjack's face between her hands and pressed her mouth to his...

Something in him fought, though it wasn't physical. It was far away, really, a vague notion that lived in instinct. He didn't give in to it.

For that redheaded fellow, there on the deck beneath the cloudy sky, there was only one thing to do. No choices.

The only thing he could do was to pull the witch ever closer, and return her kisses ferociously. There was nothing left now, no words, and no fight.

The kiss took her, took her passion and her soul, made a wind spring up that pulled her hair into a soft cloud above her body that whipped their faces, made her ragged skirt wrap around his legs. She kissed him with the taste of cold salt on her lips and a fire in her blood.....

And for those long moments there was nothing else. The universe ground to a halt, the moon stopped its course, and only they two remained.

When finally they separated, the tiniest of spaces between them, was all the same as if the sea itself had pushed them apart.

"Muireann," he whispered against her lips, his breath feeling sharp as razors in his throat.

One indrawn breath. And still....but his scent worked into her nostrils and her breath stopped in her throat. "Ryan."

Her head fell to rest against his. "No." a hoarse whisper. He'd luck. She'd take that. "No. I won't have you."

He should have been stunned at those words. He was not. He only pulled back a bit, and shook his head. "I can't let you take those girls," he said softly. "It wouldn' be right o' me."

"Why not?" she protested. She still clung to him, her body pressing desperately against the cold salt wind. "Why not? They wan' it, ye don't. They served you up t'me. They.." her voice was reedy and petulent, a child who won't give something up even as she feels it slipping from her grasp. "I won't do wi'out you." she insisted. "Won't." her facew pressed fervently against his skin. "Yer luck. Yer fortune. Ye pay me that. Someone' else." and her eyes move, sliding over LIly completely and settling on Liz. "that one. Had a chance, lost it..that one."

Liz shivered as the Dockwitch's eyes went over her, cold water over her skin. She hadn't had enough time... but the protest died on her lips unspoken.

It seemed every moment like a better idea. Who was it, after all? Who was it that'd gone to the crippled sailor, gotten the secrets of calling her back from him? Who was it that had done all of this, most responsible for pulling her from her home and thrusting this task upon her? Yes...that red-headed whore, that trembling thing...Muireann smelled the fear on the woman and narrowed her eyes. "Yes...."

"No," he shook his head. "I can't let ye! Muireann, don't, please!" He looked at Lizzie, panic in his eyes. What could he do? He couldn't stop any of it.

Liz was shaking in every bone, wanted to run, wanted to die... well, she'd get that last wish anyway. "No," she said, through numb lips, though whether it was to Redjack or Muireann was anyone's guess. "No..."

"You!" she ignored the Irishman even as she tuned to push him gently behind her and advanced on Liz. "You did all this! You spoke the words. Didn't you! You smell like him, you taste like him, you wanted him...why? Why?" her lips twisted. "Do you know how good he was to me? How much he pleased me?" her brows rose. "What could he be to you?"

It was that, strangely enough, that made her angry, and the anger was comforting, a blaze of warmth that consumed the fear and eased the trembling. "Enough," Liz shot back, "and more, and what's he to yer, when yer can't be anything? What good's he to yer? He's..." mine, she almost said, but choked herself off; no good saying that now.

"He made me glad. He did me a service." was the only reply. And her hand lit out quick as lightning and gripped Liz by the shoulder. Reached into her to curl around the life there, the growing, pulsing, bloody life....get a good hold. "How ye stink of him." she muttered. And her nostrils flared.

[Liz]

Liz had no answer to that. She lifted her chin and glared; at least if she was going to die, she was going to do it with dignity.



Muireann almost winced at the heat in the other. So much...so much...was it the Knave's favour that made her pulse so hot, hot as a vent....Muireann blinked one, twice, and took a better hold. An idea...



"Stop!" Cried the Irishman, and he reached out to grab Muireann by the arm.

It was the sort of thing he'd never have dreamed of doing before, but now...now, if it meant Lizzie was going to die, well that was a chance he'd have to take.


"I won't let ye. If she dies, I'll leave," he said. "I'll walk away and not look back."

Her eyes flashed and there was storm and poison in them. "Ye'll not!" she hissed. "Ye'll not dare."

"I will," he growled. "Even as I love ye, I can't watch it happen." His hand flew up to wipe at his nose agitatedly. "Let'er go."


"Then I'll take the dark one!" she threatened..but it was a bluff. Lily, much as she hated it, had paid her part. "Ye let me! Ye'll not leave me!" the dockwitch began to shake. "Ye'll not...ye couldn't..."

"I'll do what I must," was all he said, and he couldn't believe himself. If he'd been a learned man, he'd have been afraid. He wasn't afraid. Anything else in the world paled in comparison with those long painful moments.


Muireann wanted to wrap rage around her like a cloak. Hate him. Hate him and bare her teeth and sink them into him, feel him flow hot over her tongue....she wanted anything but for her voice to crack and her lip to tremble.

After deciding that she wanted him after all, knowing she didn't want to do without, his threat struck true. She gripped the woman tighter and yet somehow managed to pull out her long fishknife. Even as she shook. "No..."

she turned to Liz. Looked hard. And her hand softened as it moved down the whore's body until it curled just over her heart. Her eyes widened, then narrowed. "He wouldn't." she whispered. But she believed him. Her eyes narrowed. There had to be another way. A moment ago, she'd sensed one. A loophole, a way out of this...


He'd made his threats. It didn't work, she was going to kill her.

Seized by the imp of the perverse, perhaps, Redjack climbed up onto the rail, above the tableau. Quickly, he pulled the knife from his boot and held it to his own throat.

"G'bye Muireann," he said to her. It was a gamble, and the odds weren't even particularly good, but it was all he had.


Liz gasped, and half-reached out as if to stop him; not his fault, wasn't his business, he shouldn't even be there.


And the witch turned. "No!" her voice shrieked on the wind...and something changed. Play games with her heart? Threaten her? Yet his threats had hit. Her eyes grew dark as she looked at him, and the wind curled it's hands around the man. "No." her words held him still, and her hand gripped Liz hard by the front of her dress, the knife raised high.

Liz half-pulled away, the better to glare, and spat--at the deck, not at the Dockwitch. She was going to die, but that didn't mean she wanted to die slowly.


It came down with a sigh in the air, slicing true, and Muireann, eyes blazing, turned the woman in her arms around. Stood behind her, those long, skinny arms holding tight. "For this?" she shrieked. "Leave me for this?" and her hands dug hard into the soft flesh, the softest places. "You'll never leave me, luck-lacking. Never again."


The only thing he could think of was how he'd sworn to protect her.

He'd promised that if anything had ever happened to the Ace, he'd take care of Lizzie. And now he was breaking his promise.

If he could have moved he'd have thrown himself into the sea.


Liz took a breath, surprised she was alive. She wasn't bleeding, either; though the Dockwitch's fingers dug icy-cold into her body, her stomach and breasts now bare to the wind.

Too cold, it was too cold, maybe she was dead after all even though the knife hadn't cut her.

Could you be dead and not know it?

[tatterhood]

Muireann's cold, mean fingers dug harder, deeper, looking for that thing she needed. She didn't care for the pain, the effort...kissing Redjack had been sweet. Taking him would have been sweeter. This hurt...it hurt. She didn't care when she felt heat and slick wetness on her hands. Didn't care..her body was being ripped apart. Life. It screamed in her head. Life.

And so she screamed too, a mindless howl of pain and helplessness as the power of what she'd asked the universe to do, what she'd made it do, tore through her. Her whole existence howled, and she didn't think she'd survive.


He wanted to look away, but couldn't. Tears seeped out of his eyes, and he didn't even care.

All he could see were Liz's eyes, and he knew that was all he would see for the rest of his miserable existence. "Please!" he cried. "Please stop!"


Her eyes locked on Ryan, her own life, her own blood joining what life she took. Had to make enough. Had to make it work...and if there wasn't enough, the little fish that surrounded then would belly-up adn float to the surface. And if there still wasn't enough, the sea-birds that wheeled above them would fall choking to the deck. She pulled again, hard, and one did.


It hurt it hurt it hurt like something tearing into her reaching into her belly and taking her guts her stomach her heart and it hurt...

Liz folded up around the hands and screamed, a thin wailing sound that turned into a sob. It hurt so much, it hurt it hurt...


He leapt to the deck, and immediately went sprawling on his side. The pain was as a whisper overheard through a thick stone wall, almost nothing.

Back on his feet, he moved toward the women without hesitation. He couldn't stop her, no, but there was still that knife in his hand.


Almost. Almost. Somewhere, the universe was ending. Or was it her mind? Muireann kept her hold, kept her fingers buried in Liz's soft belly. The light that wisped around them was dark and unhealthy, but went bloody red in her eyes, her tongue licked her lips and when a shudder went through her she almost bit through it. She shuddered again, again...but Liz didn't fall. Just screamed.


His hand had slipped up into her hair many times. Again, it did, and he took hold of her red, red hair in that calloused hand and brought her face up to his. "One more time," he growled in the witch's ear. "Stop."


The words were so far away. it was so close to being over. This pain, this feeling of feeling every part of her torn, being a conduit for this...almost over. She almost heard him. She almost felt that edge of that cold, cold knife at her throat. But her eyes were blazing and saw nothing and she could not move or speak or think.....


Ryan sighed in resignation. "Et's a shame," he said softly. "I really did love ye best." And then there was nothing but cold steel across wet skin. It was almost possible not to notice all the red.

Done...done...the life flowed through her and held her up..but it was done. She felt something shift and change...felt something about the universe buckle. Done. Then why was sweet hot life still hot in her ears and loud on her tongue? Muireann opened wide her mouth to gulp in the cold sea air...nothing. Nothing..nothing.....her eyes went wide and her hands released. The heat that coursed...so hot...and the air so cold but none of it...

The witch-woman staggered on that deck, her life soaking the front of her. Her eyes were wide and wild and fixed on her lover and her hand trembled as it raised to his face. She wanted to touch him...feel his skin and touch his mouth...but she only managed to leave a bloody smear across his freckled cheek before tumbling into a broken heap upon the deck.


Liz fell too, her arms still wrapped around her belly. The pain was fading but there was something worse, a terrible emptiness she'd felt before. But if it worked... if it worked... she pushed herself up, gasping. "Where is 'e?"


Ryan was wiping the blood from his knife with a face that could only be described as morose. He glanced down at Liz. "He's late, I s'pose." There was a long pause. "Is she...dead?" he asked, though he feared either answer.


Liz shrugged, and tried to get to her feet. What did she care for the Dockwitch now? Either way it was over.

She huddled the scraps of her dress together, over her torso, and looked frantically around. "If it didn't work.."


The knife went back into his boot. It had been a long time since he'd used it. It had been a long time since he'd had reason.

"Where's Lil?" he asked curtly, his eyes moving over the deck quickly before alighting on the dark-haired girl, crumpled on the planks.

He hurried to her, and turned her over until he could see her face. She looked...well, she didn't look well, that was for sure. He pressed his hands against her cheeks. "Lily, Lily love, wake up."

She didn't move. She was so still...for a moment he feared. And then lay his ear to her breast and made out an unsteady beat...she lived. He took her into his arms and held her, his face in her hair.


Touching, Liz thought, sarcastically, and clung to the side of the ship. No comfort for her, of course not. But then she was Liz, and she did not like comfort, though of course she did. But she was tough. She would survive. She scowled until she felt Ryan put his coat around her shoulders. But when she turned to thank him he'd moved away...


He knelt, looking down at the broken body he'd left, and this time, the tears came without warning.

He took his knife out once more, and with it cut a lock of her hair, red like his, something to remember her by.

Finally, as he stood, he tucked the wispy scarlet strands into his waistcoat pocket, and crossed himself solemnly. Then he turned and, gathered Lily into his arms again.




It was a few moments before she moved. She hurt. But after a few moments Lily's eyes fluttered open.

She looked up and breathed. "Ryan!" and tried weakly to throw her arms around his neck.



She touched her belly, then winced away. She would survive this too.


"Hush now, it's time t'go home," he whispered. "C'n ye stand?" He barely saw Liz out of the corner of his eye, but he thought only of the promise he'd made to Jack. He'd done what he had to do.

There was no other way. And now she was safe.

[tatterhood]

"What...what happened?" Her eyes flicked over Ryan's face and then to Liz. "Liz?" she choked. "Liz....your belly!"


She shook her head. "Doesn't matter," she said, flatly. "Go with Redjack."


"We'll go t'gether," he replied, gathering Lily into his arms. "I'm not lettin' ye out o' me sight."

He shuddered at what might be waiting for the three of them.


Even as she clung to Redjack, Lily's face crumpled. instantly she burst into helpless sobs. "Oh, Liz!" she moaned. "Your belly! Your belly!"

She hadn't seen the bloody mess yet..not yet...


"Lily!" Liz snapped, as sharp as she could. Best Lily not see what else had gone. "Go on, now!"


"Ye too," Ryan said pointedly to Liz. "I didn't..." he took a deep breath, "I didn't do what I did to let you stumble around alone t'night. Let's t'home."


"But Liz!!" Lily broke from Ryan, stumbled to her friend and gathered the mess of blood smears and tattered dress into her arms.

"Liz, your belly...I'm so sorry."


She cuddled her friend and drew her close. She'd had her fights with Liz...been so jealous of her. But now Lily's mouth pressed to Liz's forheard. "Was that the life she took?"


For a moment, she let herself cling tight to Lily and take a little bit of comfort, something to hold close when it hurt the most. Then she took a deep breath, looked up to Redjack and nodded. "Let's go then."


His heart stopped, and the coppery taste of adrenaline filled his mouth. The realization dawned on him slowly, painfully.

"Ye were...ye mean t'say..." Redjack dropped to his knees on the planks as he realized. Lizzie wasn't dying. She wasn't ever. And now...


"Forget it," Liz said, sharply. Not him too. "It doesn't matter! Let's just go!" She heard her voice rising, embarrassingly shrill, and could not even care.


It wasn't until then that Lily's eyes caught sight of the bloody mess that threatened to get on her shoes. She saw....and recoiled into Liz. "Ugh! That!"



As his world ended, Redjack took it with an admirable amount of stoicism.




He knelt, looking down at the broken body he'd left, and this time, the tears came without warning.

He took his knife out once more, and with it cut a lock of her hair, red like his, something to remember her by.

Finally, as he stood, he tucked the wispy scarlet strands into his waistcoat pocket, and crossed himself solemnly. Then he turned and, not waiting for the girls, walked off the boat, and into the Docklands.