A Pirate in Time (Completed)

3

"Lass?" the voice was distant, muffled in my ears. I strained to hear more, but all I could comprehend was the faint echoing of the voice bouncing around in my skull.

I felt something on my throat. It felt like fingers, but I couldn't tell you why they were there. Then there was a sudden pressure on my chest.

Something gurgled inside me. A pocket of air sucked into my water-filled lungs. It made me squeamish, but I couldn't move. Another sudden pressure created the same result.

The third pressure made seawater sluggishly climb up my throat. It created a horrendous itch on the tender skin of my windpipe, and I wished more than anything to rid myself of it.

The fourth spurred my body into motion. It was as if I'd been suddenly resurrected. My body lurched to the side of its own accord and expelled itself of the salty ocean water.

It felt like throwing up, only much worse. It burned my lungs and throat with a foreign mixture of salt and sea. A sharp, ragged intake of breath had me hacking onto rough wooden planks.

I couldn't control the violent coughs that plagued my body. Tiny droplets of water flew from my mouth with each rough expel of air.

I was somehow on my elbows now, fists clenched as I attempted to calm my aching lungs.

Another short spurt of coughs consumed me before I groaned and collapsed to my side. One thought ran through my mind at that moment... I was somehow, still, miraculously alive.

A mixture of seawater and perspiration glued my hair to my face as I squinted back up to my saviors. The blur of the tears pooling in my eyes in addition to the bright rays of the midday sun made it difficult to see anything but silhouettes standing above me.

"Good God," a gruff voice said to my left. The sound of his voice automatically made me think he had a beard, though I couldn't tell you exactly why. "She lives!"

There were a few moments of silence, the gentle lull of the waves the only thing to be heard. I let my head fall back to the deck with a heavy thump, too exhausted to hold it up any longer. I could feel my consciousness slipping away again, but I fought it for as long as I could.

"What's your name?" A strong, confident voice finally broke the silence.

I closes my eyes, fighting off a wave of nausea and dizziness. Lord, my head hurt.

"Elizabeth," I breathed, darkness already creeping into the edges of my vision. "Elizabeth Proctor."

Darkness consumed me once more.

------+-----+------

I woke up gasping for breath.

I tried sitting up, but immediately regretted the idea. My head swam, temples throbbing in a painfully steady rhythm, and I could feel a cold sweat climb up my face as I fought a sudden onslaught of nausea. I groaned and squeezed my head with weak hands.

Pain pulsed at my every joint. I prayed for the constant ache to subside.

In a vain attempt to distract myself, I tried to focus on other things.

The first thing I noticed was that I was warm and dry. Looking down, I found myself on a quaint little cot wrapped in several blankets. Pulling them away with sore fingers, I found that the clothes I wore were not my own. My brows furrowed in confusion.

A white, most likely cotton, button-up shirt with frilly sleeves coupled with a pair of sturdy brown pants made up my new attire. Pushing the blankets farther down revealed that the cuffs of the pants were rolled up to about my mid calf, proudly displaying my pale legs.

Turning my head, I deducted that I was alone in some sort of room. The same wooden planks made up the floor, walls, and ceiling. For a brief moment, I thought I might be on land, but when I felt the soft rocking motion of a boat on water, I knew that wasn't the case.

Although, the rocking motion could be accountable to my aching skull.

I groaned and slowly rose to a sitting position, mindful of my head this time. From this vantage point, I could now see that my previous clothes were spread across the floor to dry. I cringed at the thought that someone had undressed me while I was unconscious.

Looking around again, I found that the sole source of light was coming through a small, circular window on the far wall. I blinked at it. Where am I?

Hellbent on figuring it out, I slowly swung my legs over the edge of the cot. My bare feet grazed the cold flooring just as a soft knock sounded on the door.

I opened my mouth to say something, but no sound came out. My throat was too dry. I cleared my throat, but the door was already opening.

"Oh, good," a male voice said as the door swung closed behind him. "You're awake."

I weakly raised my eyes to look at him. He was dressed similarly to me, with the exception of a tattered brown vest, a large pair of brown leather boots, a sword, and a... tricorn hat. I blinked at him, not knowing if this guy was for real.

"How are you fairing?" he asked as he moved closer. I now noticed that he carried a bowl of soup. He handed it to me and I cautiously accepted it.

"I'll probably live," I responded in a distant voice, still deeply confused by his hat.

My gaze moved down to his face and I nearly dropped the bowl. He was beautiful. The only imperfections on his face were a couple of small scars and a smear of dirt across his forehead.

Coughing inconspicuously, I averted my eyes before I could be caught staring... or drooling... or both.

The man, probably a little older than I, pulled up a chair and sat down. We both watched each other with curious expressions for a few moments.

The man cleared his throat and broke eye contact, "You should eat that," he pointed to the bowl, "You haven't eaten in a few days."

I followed his gaze down to the bowl in my hands and suddenly realized how chapped my lips were. My nausea was concealing my hunger well, but there was no denying that at least part of my thundering headache was from lack of food and water.

I shakily brought the spoon to my lips and swallowed some sort of warm broth. It was a bit salty, but it would do.

"Where am I?" I finally asked the mysterious man, looking up from the bowl to meet his eyes.

"You're aboard my ship, The Marauder's Phoenix," he shifted in his chair a bit, "My men pulled you from the sea."

I brought another spoonful of broth to my lips before speaking again, "And who are you?"

He blinked and looked at the floor, "Jeremiah. Captain Jeremiah Jackson. But you can call me Captain Jay, if you wish."

Captain? He looked a little young to be a captain. I mean sure, Danny was young, but he never took the title seriously. Captain belonged to someone who had earned it.

He stared at me for a few more thoughtful seconds before he suddenly stood, gently taking the near empty bowl from my hands.

"I should probably let you get some more rest."

I nodded and didn't have to wait for another confirmation before laying my head down on the pillow. I was exhausted.

"Sweet dreams, Elizabeth," he said quietly before shutting the door behind him.

A few minutes later, my eyes were closed and sleep was already starting to descend upon me.