Pairing/Characters: Ragetti, honorable mention of Pintel
Word Count: 645
Summary: A further look into Ragetti's past.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but Mildred.
Warnings: Character death.
Notes: Set immediately after An Eye for an Eye.
Special Thanks: To nazgul_number_7 and caelia_canta for reading this over and being just as concerned for my subconcious as I am.
The nightmare came often. When the words 'steady' or 'easy' were said, he would look around in fear, shaking and afraid that the man was around him, ready to kill him. He had never spoken of it until that night, when Pintel had asked and now, with it fresh on his mind, he went to sleep. He at least tried to sleep, even though he knew he wouldn't be able to. Tonight, the nightmare came in such a strong wave, that Ragetti was practically reliving it, every sword clash and all of the blood soaked floor.
He thought of things out of order -- this always confused Pintel -- but Ragetti stuck to his ways. And so, when the nightmare came, it was just that way.
How every many years ago it was, Ragetti had lost count, not that it truly mattered. The only things that mattered anymore were very few: he had lost this eye, he had been put under a curse that had no end, and the girl he loved was dead. Ragetti never had the chance to tell her.
Mildred Goodrich was dead. She was on the floor face down, her blood soaking the wooden floors around her. Her long blonde hair that Ragetti loved only second to her grey eyes, was ruined. More blood was on Ragetti's hand that was covering where his eye once was. The flow was steady, but he was numb to the pain. The man, whose face Ragetti had blocked out for some unknown reason, remorsed that it was a shame for her to be dead. He had such plans for her, was what he said. His laughter would forever haunt Ragetti when there was silence.
Ragetti cried out, both in pain and in horror that he had failed her.
The rules had been laid down: the girl would be the prize. It wasn't fair, Ragetti thought, that Mildred to be a prize. If anything, she was an angel, someone who had saved him from who he had become. She had taken him in, teaching him of Greek history, of the Bible and things that he thought he would never understand. She wasn't to be fought over like a ship. When the mention of things that the man would do to her rang in Ragetti's ears: a forced marriage, rape, and turning her into a common whore for his profit, Ragetti had drawn his sword without a second thought. The swords clashed, words were spoken, and curses thrown for the man was apparently some sort of wizard and in the end it all came to naught.
He was concentrating so hard that every now and again his hand would lose grip on the handle, the man would taunt him, "Steady...easy on that grip." And when it happened for the last time, Ragetti saw everything move slowly.
She had thrown herself in front of Ragetti to protect him, only to be killed herself. Her flesh torn from where the blade pierced through her back, where the blood seemed to pour through and never stop. A circle of wood rolled his way, landing against his shoe.
When the man left, or when he had told Ragetti of the curse of the wooden eye that was now filling in his hole, Ragetti didn't know. He only kneeled by her body, crying in such a way that he thought he was dying himself.
It was then that he would wake, either by Pintel shaking his shoulder or by his own cries of despair. Pintel would say nothing, motion that the morning had come and there were chores to be done aboard The Black Pearl. When he awoke on his own, Ragetti would close his eye, his hand moving to cover the wooden one and tell the heavens the message that he wished he had told her every day: "I love you."