XV. Landfall and Sorrow
Marie cautiously smoothed over Raven's feathers while adjusting his pale blue neckerchief. Deciding that it was most flattering draped over his chest feathers in a V, she secured it in the back while he happily ran through his three word vocabulary. She was trying to teach him to say Kitty, but he was just not cooperating, choosing to call her name instead. Suddenly remembering the most important addition to her outfit, Marie ran to fetch her chain from under her pillow. Slipping it on while she repeated the word Kitty over and over, she clasped the cross tightly and smiled. She was going home. The knocking at the door jarred her from her thoughts.
"Come in."
St. John's radiant expression immediately died at seeing the chaos her stateroom was in.
"Mare Elizabeth, they'll be here for your things in a matter of minutes."
Marie fluttered excitedly to her chest of shoes, before remembering she had something better.
"I was just trying on some things."
Running to the Jean trunk, she dug around for the slippers Logan had made her. They were a little worn and rough around the edges, but she had washed them and they were her favorites nevertheless. No matter how pretty, none of the others were made special to her fit. Behind her, St. John was already tossing things haphazardly into any chest they would fit in. The task was made harder with Raven fluttering on his shoulder and cawing out `Ma-ree'. It took him a minute to realize Raven was accessorized. He sniffed at it cautiously.
"Marie Elizabeth, what is this animal wearing? And is that perfume on him?"
Marie ignored him and rooted around the rum trunk for a sprig of lavender. Finding some, she tied Logan's suede strap to it in a bow. Giving it a good whiff, she tucked both items into the high waist of her dress.
"St. John, how much longer will it be?"
He managed to placate Raven with a few seeds on the dresser and resumed the hasty packing.
"Half an hour perhaps, the first mate just signaled the harbormaster."
Marie stopped moving long enough to tie the long strings to her slippers on. In a fit of rebellion, she had abandoned her stockings and only worn one slip under her dress. They were in the tropics after all.
"Did you give Logan the clothes I asked you to?"
St. John blanched a little and straightened out.
"I completely forgot."
"He must look his best to meet poppa."
St. John quirked an eyebrow.
"I'll go right away."
With that he left and Marie resumed her leisurely packing and parrot tutoring.
St. John knocked on the door patiently. Under his arm was a bundle of his clothes that he figured would fit the bigger man. In his other hand was a basin with shaving suds and a blade. Finding it odd that the normally impatient Logan hadn't flung open the door already, he went to knock again, but a voice stopped him. It didn't sound like Logan, but the younger man assumed it was one of his friends and walked in.
The first thing his eyes caught was a bundle of bright green on the floor that stood out sharply in the drab colored room. Unfortunately he didn't even have time to turn and move his gaze from the dress to where Logan was stretched out on the floor. In a split second after he stepped inside, St. John was felled by a sharp blow to the back of the head. Falling in a heap to the floor, he distinctly heard the crack of the ceramic basin he had been holding when it hit the floor next to him. Unconscious almost instantly, he barely got a glimpse of Logan's outstretched body not a yard from him and a dirty pair of brown boots step into his line of vision before the world went black.
Marie was at her vanity, sorting through a small box for which earrings to wear, when the door opened behind her. Thinking it was St. John, she immediately began chattering.
"So tell me, does he look as handsome as I imagine?"
Lebeau `mmm-hmmed' and locked the door behind himself. Raven started cawing loudly in the corner at his presence and he felt tempted to put a bullet through it, but Marie was too wrapped up in what she was doing to notice the ruckus. He leaned against the door and watched her hands flutter around her curled hair. A beautiful bride indeed. His eyes fell to the red glint of the ruby ring that rested on the night table and his fists tightened.
"I am so excited, I have missed Kitty so much, I know the poor dear has suffered but it'll be just wond……"
Her radiant smile faded as she looked up into the mirror at the figure standing by the door. Her hands dropped and she whirled around in her seat. The look on his face made her instantly ill.
"Wh-where's St. John?"
Lebeau smirked even wider. Always carrying on about her pet. Maybe there was something there too, but then he remembered Katherine. The pet was completely smitten by the younger Xavier. It would work to his advantage either way.
"Greetings, I am well thank you. Perhaps you have been in the company of commoners too long."
Marie flinched at the intended insult. Her gaze flickered over to Raven, who was cawing madly on his perch. She hated feeling afraid. It was weak. She cleared her throat and spoke out.
"What do wish Monsieur? I have no time for games, my family awaits."
Lebeau's features hardened, but his smile remained as charming as ever.
"Yes, Master Xavier awaits."
He finally moved, taking slow deliberate steps towards her with each word. Marie's grip on her hairbrush tightened.
"But I wonder who it is you're planning to bring home to him."
Marie's eyes glistened in anger. This was not how she wanted it. And where was St. John?
"I did not plan for things to turn out this way Monsieur, but I think we both know this is over. I'm very grateful for the time you have invested in trying to……"
"Shut-up!!!"
Marie jumped back at the wholly unfamiliar sound of him screaming. She had never seen him loose control. Never seen him this intimidating. All traces of his handsomeness vanished instantly with his scowl. The wooden edge of the vanity dug a line across her back and all she could do is stare at the man she realized she knew almost nothing about. To her growing repulsion, he leaned in real close and placed one hand on either side of her arms on the table behind her.
"You seem to have forgotten some rules Marie Elizabeth. A lady knows how to keep silent when a gentleman speaks."
Marie swallowed hard and tried to instill the confidence she didn't feel into her voice.
"I will never marry you and I suggest you leave before I scream. My father will hear of this impropriety."
His face stood perfectly still for a moment before he burst into laughter. To Marie's relief, he removed his arms and straightened out, but he was still too close.
"How very prim of you my dear. Is that what you tell the savage every night when you sneak into his quarters?"
Marie's eyes widened in cold shock. He knew. The thought made her dizzy. If he knew, why would he still pursue her? Why would he still…… unless he was after something else. Suddenly panicked, Marie stood to her feet. The look he carried said it all. It was cold hatred -revenge.
"What have you done?"
Lebeau grabbed her upper arm and wrenched her towards him, Marie whimpered at the hard leather clad fingers digging into her. His face was inches from hers. Terror filled her at seeing his eyes roam down her body. His intent became clear.
"You'll find out soon enough."
He swooped down to kiss her. Marie gasped and struggled to get loose and scream, but his free hand immediately went to pull the back of her head to him. Feeling the tears escape her when she felt his tongue snake out to pry her mouth open, Marie wrenched as much of her arm as she could from his grasp and brought the silver hairbrush she had in her hands over his head. Lebeau staggered back from the blow, eyes filled with hurt and rage.
"Bitch!"
Blinded by tears, Marie turned to run to the door, but Lebeau moved quick and grabbed her from behind with a hand over her mouth and one across her waist. Slamming her face down on the bed, he smashed her hand over the footboard until she let go of the brush and pressed her down with his body. He whispered callously into her ear.
"Don't worry Marie Elizabeth. Just enjoy yourself."
Marie moaned into the covers. She couldn't believe what was happening. Her tears flowing hard now, she struggled futily against Lebeau's imposing weight and the fact that she could barely breathe against the mattress. He was having a hard time, but she could feel him struggling to get his pants opened. Panic gripping her, and knowing that she could never fight him off, Marie stilled and quit struggling. Lebeau took a minute to consider her. With a half grin, he flipped her over, still holding her hands tight above her head. Her lungs were aching and she took deep gulps of air in between sobs.
"Just…don't…hurt me."
A smile spread across his face and Lebeau shifted to spread her legs. She didn't offer any resistance.
"That's more like it."
He came down on her neck and Marie squeezed her eyes to fight the nauseousness enveloping her. He was soon lost in his task, and easing her hand out of his loosening grasp, Marie raised her hand without him noticing. Raven immediately stopped his agitated cawing and swooped down to Lebeau's neck where her hand was. Lebeau immediately cried out and jumped back at the feel of the Raven's sharp nails digging into him. The parrot fluttered his wide wings furiously, somehow escaping his grasp. Marie wasted no time in taking the opportunity and reaching under her pillow for what rested there. Kicking him in the balls when he grabbed for her again, Marie pulled back on the bed and watched Lebeau's eyes tighten in agony.
"Raven!"
Raven fluttered back to his perch silently. Lebeau looked up with a grimace and realized just how fast the situation had changed. Marie had a foot long, slightly curved blade in her hand and he immediately recognized it as the same one the savage had taken out on him that day on the wharf. He looked up to her face. She was red and still crying, but her green eyes were as cold as her voice.
"Get up slowly."
Lebeau complied, still clutching the dull ache in his groin.
"Where is he?"
"He's dead already."
Marie whimpered. Her free hand moved to clutch her stomach. Lebeau stepped forward, but the knife was expertly brought back up again. It glinted in the sunlight bathing the room and Marie figured he was lying. She needed to see. Needed to know. She repeated her words a little lower, not believing what he had said.
"Where is he?"
Lebeau's eyebrows went up a little. He could overpower her, but the way she gripped the knife and eased off the bed on the other side, and slowly walked around the bed towards the door made him think twice. She could hurt him and Lebeau would never really risk that. But he could still hurt her. It was easy actually. His smile grew.
"He's in the ocean. Since you left him this morning. Dead."
Marie slapped a hand over her mouth. The tears burned down her cheeks again.
"No!! You're lying!!"
Not able to stand in the same room any longer, Marie turned and flung the door open. She felt Lebeau move behind her, but she was too disoriented to think. She ran down the hall blindly, down and to the left, unconsciously running to his room. Halfway there she stumbled as the entire ship heaved to one side when the anchor was dropped into the Puerto Nuevo docking bay. They had arrived, but Marie was too distraught to care.
Turning the corner, she ran right into a short, scruffy looking sailor she faintly recognized. Bouncing off him and landing on her behind on the floor, she let the knife fall from her hand and struggled to get up and charge past him again. But the man in the faded brown boots inexplicably held her. Lebeau turned the corner at that particular moment, still limping, when the other man slammed Marie against a corridor wall and withdrew a revolver.
Marie stilled instantly, hypnotized not by the gun pointed to her chest, but the fragments of a basin that she could see littered Logan's room floor. There was a stain seeping the dark wood planking. It was true. Not able to cry anymore, she slumped down to the floor, barely hearing the two men argue heatedly in whispered tones about the time.
Seconds later, she felt herself get picked up and ushered back to her room. The door had remained opened, so Raven was gone. But Marie didn't notice that or anything else. She sat stiffly on the bed she had almost been raped on and barely flinched as a light cloak was thrown over her and her face roughly wiped with a towel. The men were arguing and Lebeau straightened his appearance as best he could before grabbing Marie by the shoulders and walking her quickly up on deck.
Marie gasped faintly at the feel of the salty warm breeze. It seemed like she had been hidden away for an eternity. She could faintly hear seagulls busily screeching at each other for bits of food. She failed to see them or the one among them that was wearing a neckerchief and brightly colored, faithfully following his role of guardparrot. All around her, the crew was unloading and carrying things away. Lebeau stopped only once and gripped her tight by his side while he spoke to someone briefly. Still numb with shock, Marie walked blindly as he led her to an awaiting carriage.
Once inside the darkness of it, Marie closed her eyes again and cuddled into a fetal position on the booth. Lebeau climbed in, still limping and cursing opposite her. Giving her a disdainful look and then checking his pocket watch, he cursed again and hastily withdrew something from his pocket. Marie faintly felt a ring shoved onto her trembling fingers.
Eyes blank and glassy, Marie let everything slowly fade from her awareness. The only thing she could feel was strong hands in her hair, all she could see was warm hazel eyes, all she could taste was the salt of his skin, all she could smell was the lavender in his hair, all she could hear was his last words, `first thing'. Still not able to cry, Marie succumbed to hopeless sorrow.
The first mate rubbed his scruffy stubble and watched the carriage roll away from up on the railing. Everything in him told him something was wrong. He wasn't sure what were their plans, but he would have bet silver that the girl wasn't going to be carting off with the French bastard. Perhaps he was wrong and his remarkably healing patient was tossed to the side, for the bigger, better deal, but it still didn't seem right. Especially with her looking so out of it and not so much as saying a word. The French bastard practically ran her off the ship and even he knew that wasn't right without her escort, which was always by her side and which he had yet to see in all the commotion of unloading.
McCoy sighed heavily and started barking orders at the crew to move faster. The accountant would be there soon. They responded with smiles and kept moving, no doubt deciding which tavern they would spend their bonus on. He himself had a multitude of things to do and knew exactly what girl he would be splurging on, but knowing that it would itch in his brain until he knew for certain, he shuffled over to the stairs and descended below deck in search of answers.
First stopping at St. John's room, he was surprised to find it empty. Moving to the girl's stateroom next he was even more shocked to see it was unlocked and everything still looked unpacked. Knowing for certain something was wrong, he clenched his teeth and turned to see Bishop running down the hall. The enormous man was as angry as he had ever seen him.
"What the hell is going on?"
The taller man sheathed a second knife into his side and barely regarded the first mate.
"The bastard got to him."
McCoy fell into step with him.
"That bastard got the Wolverine?"
Bishop raised an eyebrow. He had a tattoo crossing down the side of his face from his travels to the South Pacific, and it was twitching angrily. He held up a stein that had been dangling from his fingers.
"Poison. It was in the ale."
McCoy stopped to catch it and looked at the white powder residue that coated the bottom. It was what he used to numb people in operations when liquor wouldn't suffice. He looked up and dumbly watched Bishop walking away. Then he ran up to catch up.
"Someone must have helped him. There was no way he could have known where to get this otherwise. And he just pulled away with the girl."
The thought that one of his crew could betray him gave McCoy reason to think. Bishop pushed past the door that led to the upper deck. McCoy and him stopped at the same time as it occurred to them that the only person that it could have been was the one they called Toad.
"He came on as a shiphand at the same time as the bastard."
Bishop shook his head in amazement. He splayed his hand on his shiny bald head.
"I knew I recognized him. Son of a whore was part of Creed's crew back when the girl was on the Esmeralda."
Huffing in disbelief at the intricacy of the entire thing, McCoy ran over to where he kept his revolvers in the helm. He looked up from the plank he removed from the floor.
"Gone."
Bishop looked over at the row of six ships docked alongside the Santa Anna.
"He could be anywhere. There's no way to tell where."
At the same time, they sighed and said `Summers.'
He would be the only one that could help. Knowing they had no choice, Bishop and McCoy took a minute to plan before jumping into action. Logan and St. John might be alive if not for long, and the girl was in danger, that much they knew. The rest they would need help with.
Bishop gathered his saber and ran off to find the only other person who he knew would lay his life on the life for Logan. Of the five ships Xavier dispatched to search for the girl, Cable had taken off on the Esperanza. Seeing it docked two ships down almost ready to leave again, the giant African went straight to the tavern he knew his former skipper would be at, hoping he would find him and hoping they still had time.
McCoy took a different route. Stopping only to sign the manifest that the accountant at the very bottom of the wharf had ready, McCoy ran the shortest route he could through the streets of downtown Puerto Nuevo straight to the man he never thought he would ever ask help from, confident that Xavier's accountant's never cheated his men out of their rightful pay.
Summers was the designated law around the island, appointed by Xavier himself. As the youngest ex-admiral in her majesty's navy, he had been a huge pain in the ass to guys like him who occasionally trafficked stolen goods, but the man was honest. As honest and idealistic as they came, and that gave McCoy hope. He knew from the start that Lebeau was no good, but knowing that he had the Xavier girl in his hands, that he had people working for him, and that he probably killed two men to get her, made his blood boil. He didn't know what his scheming was, but there was no way he would let an asshole like that get away with it.
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