"Why? I couldn’t go back. I was the odd duck of the family before we left because my father wouldn’t make me marry. He wanted to let me marry for love like he did. To return after so long, and for them to know that I was kept as I was on that ship, they would have married me off to the first man who would have me. I was no longer pure, and there would have been no way that I could have convinced them that I was….not in the state I was in when I finally freed myself." Morgan slowly twisted her ring around on her finger, staring unseeingly at the flames. "I changed so much in that first year after I lost my father. When I first met George I was tattered, emotionally and physically. Between his family and Carolyn and James, they put me back together. Carolyn was a different creature then. She and Isabelle nursed me back… they became my family." Morgan sighed softly and leaned into Allison, resting her head against hers. "Carolyn gave me the confidence I needed to go out that first time, and George helped me pick a crew that I could trust. I still had to win their loyalty and respect…the hard way sometimes, but I was lucky. About a third of my crew consists of men that my father picked, and they are all loyal to a fault sometimes. Jacob…well…Jacob is like an uncle to me…I think my father had hoped that we would marry…but…," Morgan drifted off and pulled back to smile crookedly at Allison, "but I guess you could say he just wasn’t what I was looking for." Allison blushed at the warmth of Morgan’s gaze but met the startlingly open blue eyes boldly. Butterflies started to dance in her stomach as those eyes flickered to her lips and Morgan started to drift closer to her.

Allison sighed softly as Morgan leaned her forehead against hers with a soft groan. "Let me see who that is," Morgan said softly as she lifted Allison off her lap. The redhead curled up in the chair, tucking her feet under her, a small knot of fear forming in her stomach. Morgan glanced over her shoulder at her and caught the apprehension in her eyes. "Relax, Allison," she said softly. Morgan laid her hand on the hilt of her knife and rested her hand on the bolt.

"Who’s there?" she called.

"Captain? It’s Jonathan." Morgan relaxed and flashed a reassuring smile at Allison before opening the door partway.

"Did Jacob have you take care of things for me, Jonathan?" Morgan asked in a low voice. Allison couldn’t see past the door, but heard the response.

"Aye, Cap’n. He’s all settled and waitin’ for ye. I stopped an’ fetched yer supplies also."

"Ah…good thinking…I hadn’t thought about that. Heard anything more?" Morgan’s voice dropped on the last part and she stepped out into the hallway. Allison strained to hear the answer but couldn’t make anything out. She sighed softly and leaned her head against the side of the chair, thinking about all that Morgan had told her. She was still shocked that the woman had opened up, and had the feeling that the last couple of days had simply overwhelmed Morgan. I knew there was a story there…but I never would have guessed that would be it. Her father…that captain….being his slave and..toy..I do know what she meant by that. She’s right though, they never would have looked at her as anything but impure back in America. I wonder what she was like before all that, though. Was she like me? Allison sighed softly and looked into the dying embers of the fire. If I were able to stay would that happen to me? Would I change? A pensive frown creased her face and she closed her eyes, confusion running rampant through her mind.

"Please stay close, Jonathan," Morgan said softly. He nodded and headed for the back stairway as Morgan turned back into the room, closing and locking the door behind her. She leaned against it and gazed quietly at Allison as the young woman stared unseeingly into the fireplace. Her stomach was in knots, though whether from the news Jonathan had shared or from her outpouring of her past to Allison, she didn’t know. Why did I do that? She asked herself. She sighed deeply and padded over to the bed and climbed in, laying on her back and staring at the beams overhead. You know why you told her all of that. You’re trying to scare her off…cause you can’t keep the distance between you on your own anymore. All she has to do is look at you with those big green eyes and there goes all that resolve. So…you tell her your past…and maybe she’ll start keeping some distance of her own. Morgan threw her arm over her eyes and squeezed them shut against the pain welling in her chest. I don’t know what would hurt more…having her and losing her…or never having her at all. Damn it!! Why couldn’t it just be a physical thing anymore? I could handle that! That’s just self-restraint…not that she hasn’t tried that to it’s breaking point, but I could handle it. These…these emotions though…. she ground her teeth together against the moisture building behind her eyelids.

Morgan sat up abruptly and pulled her belt off and tossed it to the floor, Allison’s head whipping around at the loud sound. Morgan met her eyes briefly, wincing away from the distance she found here. Clenching her jaw she curled onto her side facing away from the room and closed her eyes, shutting out everything. She could feel Allison’s eyes still on her and refused to roll over and meet them, finally relaxing after she heard Allison shift in the chair. Exhausted as she was her mind still spun in a whirlwind and she lay there awake for a long time before finally drifting off.

"Morgan….Morgan, wake up, please?" Allison’s voice pulled her from the depths of sleep and she rolled over to blink up at her.

"What is it, Allison?" she asked, wincing as her voice came out rough with sleep. Allion twisted her hands together and glanced at the window.

"They’re back," she said softly, a thread of fear creeping into her voice. Morgan sat up and swung her legs off the side of the bed, scrubbing at her face. Slowly she pushed herself to her feet and edged towards the window. The sun was starting to set, painting the sky in vibrant shades of red, orange and purple, and the slanting beams cut across the floor of the room. Morgan stayed out of the sun and peeked down at the docks. The whittler and his friend were back, leaning boldly against a stack of crates on the dock. A couple of other thugs loitered nearby, and Morgan felt a trickle of danger ripple through her. She looked further down the street and spied some of her crew mimicking the thugs, leaning against crates and pylons or kneeling to shoot dice. Frowning she backed away and shoved her hair back off her face, turning to look at Allison. The younger woman had perched herself on the edge of the bed and was watching Morgan, her eyes wide and face pale.

Morgan felt her stomach twist at the sight of Allison’s tearstained cheeks and she had to fight the impulse to wrap her arms around her again, turning instead to her trunk. Stubbornly she forced her shaking hands to pack her saddlebags, desperately ignoring the pain in her heart.