[b]Jax and Nicki[/b] Jax watched them leave, the boy and his Tanta, the Captain and his weapons, those Jax could see and those he could not. He slowly turned to the practical tactical first mate and smiled. “Seems the night’s over. I made out just fine.” He raised his bandaged hand and then opened his jacket showing her how safe and warm the book he borrowed from her truly was. “A little cake,” Jax put his fork on his now empty plate and pushed back his chair, “A little drink and company.” “But I read the charts and noticed the night sky. There is one more secret pleasure for tonight.” He stood up and moved to the back of his chair. He tilted his head to the right and squinted his eyes judging the cold sea witch doctor. He could just leave and he was sure she would find her way back to her cosy cabin just fine. She didn’t need his company and certainly not his flippant happy face. This mate might want to hide. She might be ready to retreat like she did so often. He couldn’t fault her for that. But when was the last time she just made a friend? He opened his eyes and leaned back. “I have something spectacular to see. I am willing to share. And I promise it has nothing to do with any part of me.” Jax chuckled. “In fact I will try hard to stay silent the entire time. I know you would like it if you allow yourself to come. I’ll even give a hint. There was something inside your cabin that reminded me.” He swept his arms in a grand gesture toward her and then the door. “What do you say practical risk taker?” He couldn’t help but tease her with his eyes, “A better end to a confusing night?” [center]~~~[/center] What went wrong? What went wrong? What went wrong? Over and over the question danced in her head as she stared unseeing at the blank page in her fist, her charcoal clutched so tightly her knuckles were white. It was only fatigue from when the nearly throttled the bottle of rum that kept her from snapping her charcoal in half. People were moving, people were speaking and departing and she was frozen in place. She didn’t say goodbye, didn’t even see them leave. Their words were distant echoes in her ears. Their time was moving at a normal pace and she was stuck, asking herself over and over What went wrong? Because something had, something had slipped from her grasp. Buffeted about by mistakes and mis-readings of people, well lubricated by rum she found she had nothing left with which to process the words of the Captain or the reproach in his eyes. She’d made another mistake, she could feel it but she couldn’t name it and that undid her. So she sat, unblinking and tried to catch up, but couldn’t. She was compounding her mistake by her reaction, revealing her great weaknesses so openly but she couldn’t seem to stop, couldn’t break this pattern of search and reproach. But then something moved into her line of vision and something in that movement and the voice that came with it caught at her. Was it time that freed her or the innate chaos borne by the one who spoke to her? Jax, she would not say the name aloud, it felt like some sort of promise to let it slide off her honeyed tongue, but in her head it had a weight, a gravity that she liked. She found her eyes then, and pulled them away from the well-used paper normally covered with equal amounts of code and sketches but blank now, soaking up disapproval. She looked to Jax and found herself slowly coming back into her body, back into reason. How was that possible? That he, the embodiment of chaos could bring her back to order? Was it like the new Vaccines for small pox, like does away with like? She supposed it didn’t matter. He had freed her, at least for a little and she found herself nodding agreement to seeing what he would show her. She sensed the care he was taking in his words, his cautious treading around the cracking being that she was. It alarmed her that he saw the cracks, that she’d slipped up so badly that a virtual stranger had seen her in such a state, but there was nothing for it. Plus she was afraid that once he left she would shatter and she was not yet in her cabin, not yet in her bed. She would take something tonight, something to make herself sleep so deep that dreams would not come. But not until Jax had shown her what he would. “Yes,” her honeyed tongue said, the small word somehow holding so much more than three simple letters. “Yes I will come.” She rose on swaying legs and waited for the earth to cease its rocking, leaving behind her ruined coat. “Will you take my arm?” she asked, “I think I have had far more Rum than I am accustomed to.” [center]~~~[/center] “Will I?” Jax laughed and offered his arm. “Only if you promise not tell what a gentleman I truly am. Can’t have that.” He stood taller and offer his arm very proper like. His grin soften so as not to tease her too much. In a slow leisurely fashion he guided her to the door. Jax didn’t know the parts of the island other’s might. He never roamed the rich streets, or slung around the lowlife brothels. His exploration were more in the backcountry, the lands between the ports and plantations. The fresh water pools that ran from the fashionable estates over the wild grasses of tropical lush forests to the edge of the sea had attacked Jax. Water and night skies held a deep interest for the sea artist. As they moved through the street she most likely knew better than he, Jax longed for her to speak. He had promised he wouldn’t but he wasn’t sure she even notice. So he just walked with her along side down through the echos of partying crews letting go of their coins and sensibilities. Until at the edge of the port town the road narrowed and went off into a field of sugar cane. The fields swayed in the breeze and added a soft tingle to the sound of a small stream right off the beaten path. The stars sparkled and Jax found that quite soothing. That and her steps and arms in his. Yet he wanted to know more about the doctor. He forced himself not to ask. Jax cleared his throat. “You know I found this place because I follow water and night skies. But I always come back because of another dream I once had. You see,” He gave her a sideways glance, “I wanted to be an artist. A painter. I did.” He laughed and shook his head, “Now if you repeat that I will deny it all and tell tales of your drunken mistake.” He stopped laughed and got silent again as he guided her from the main path and onto the foot trail that wove through the cane and rose just a little. Should he have told her? Why did he? He stopped right where the tall canes thinned and winked to her. “I present to you,” He swept the cane open to a pool of clear water that twinkled under the stars. It was small, only as wide as the Dusk Skate and not quite as long. But the clear water was filled with bright pink almost red flowers, lilies, that were open wide to the the light of the stars. “I saw your book, the one on your bed. I don’t know what these flowers are really. Their name. But..” He chuckled and moved from the path so she could explore. “My eyes don’t care the name. I call them Night Blooms.” He stepped aside to let her get closer to the pond if she wanted. He glanced to the flowers and all their brilliant display but then turned and watched her, the one who bandaged his hand, has books, practical tactical, cold and distant, yet speak with a song that could melt sugar. What would she think of nighttime beauty? [center]~~~[/center] She appreciated his silence, she relished it. She had worried that into the silence would fall dark thoughts, more brooding, more worrying, but somehow that didn’t happen. At first the city roared dimly around them and they had to watch where they were going, as drunken people jostled them and dangerous people eyed them. They were just one more pair of inebriates wandering the city as it tried to settle in for the night. When was the last time she had allowed herself to be just that? Not since before her fall, not since… She cut off that darkness and returned to the silence that was the sleeping streets of the outskirts of the city as they moved towards the edges where nature was sneaking in. She wondered if she should be alarmed at being taken out of the city, but she was too busy relishing the relative silence of her mind while on the arm of this unsettling, chaotic man who somehow, inexplicably had set her at ease when she was ready to shatter. The silence was restful and highlighted to her how much noise she had in her head, between plans and worries, memories, duties and idle thoughts, it was a miracle the even knew what silence was. Soon the silence of a sleepy town changed as they moved into the wild, on a narrow path that cut through a cane field. The wind danced, giving the plants voice as they shifted and joined in. Creatures moved through the night. They lived and died all around them. Nightbird-song, the cut off cry of some unfortunate rodent who would not take another breath, amphibians having a love affair with the moon gave voice to their devotion, competed with by the vigorous playing of insects all around them. I read about this, she thought, but I never let myself live it. When Jax spoke as they left the field she was more rested and more open than she had been in living memory, despite the long day and the battering her soul had taken. She regarded him with sweetly open eyes, the moonlight kind to her scar. She found herself smiling when he confessed to wanting to be an artist, an honest to god smile that changed her completely and showed the soft, dreamy girl she had once been. “I draw too.” She said and then fell into silence as a scent filled the night. It washed over her like a dream and stole away any further words. Sweet and light, like a promise it filled her lungs and soothed her. Her fingers tightened on his arm in response and she followed him into the clearing around the pond. He offered it to her like a gift and she took it with proper gravity and respect as her eyes swept over its hidden loveliness. Oh she knew the name of the flowers, the Latin syllables coming forth to her mind easily, plucked from amid hundreds of names. But it was a hollow thing that name. Simply something gleaned from a book and not understood, not lived. She didn’t live, she existed, she endured, she plotted but she didn’t live. He did. “Night Blooms” she said and that was their name, as simple as that. “I think I would like to sit for a while,” she said as she settled down on the mossy ground at the base of a wide tree. He settled beside her without a word and she realized she was still smiling. “Night Blooms.” She said again and felt that the scent of them must have some sort of gravity to it because it had pulled her down and now it tugged at her eyelids. She let it. What did she have at the ship? Books full of names that she had no right too, people she must bully to keep her place and a captain who looked at her with reproach. She could be strong and stiff in the morning, but now, she wanted to drown in the scent of Night Blooms and let Monsieur Jax be a presence beside her, pulling all the errant chaos away from her and into him. “Merci,” she muttered sleepily as her head came to rest on his shoulder and everything but the scent of Night Blooms faded away.