"He was standing at the bottom of the stairs with Post Captain Kyd," George said as we left through the city walls through a gate. "Which from that blank look, you have no idea who that is."

His words had me feeling like I should. Could it have been this Post-Captain that had ordered the hanging? I was sure I had all the gossip there was for someone his rank and above.

"Never heard of him."

"I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing," George mumbled. "At least it was only Cook staring at you and that Kyd didn't seem to care about his other impudent glare."

The Going Sally came into view. The sun setting on the old wood like a ray of hope. One could easily mistake the bar as a ship that could sail.

"Are you sure Greedy James was looking at me?" I asked, watching as the water didn't reach the wooden dock as it had days before. "I talked to Charlotte earlier but it's not something she would have told him about."

Well, she would if she wanted his advice but Charlotte was the captain of her ship. It wasn't like she needed to answer to someone who was ranked lower than her.

"Well, it was either you or the waterway behind you. My guess is you." As we reached the bridge George lowered the paddle back into the boat. "Any reason he would stare at you?"

"Clearly, he was staring at my amazing green hair."

"You don't have green hair."

I flashed him a wide grin. "That being beside the point, he's most likely trying to cook something up. I don't call him Greedy James for no reason."

Reaching out, I grabbed the edge of the bridge, feeling as the boat rocked as I kept it from going under it.

"Just be careful." He sounded slightly worried.

I nodded, knowing that I would have to be. Having not seen Greedy James that morning when I talked to Charlotte, it slipped my mind that he was on her ship and is after my had. I never trusted him from the moment that I saw him and that never changed over the years.

With how quickly he was to point a finger at me whenever something happened, it was a wonder I hadn't been caught. Though, most of the stuff Greedy James did try to blame on me was someone else's doing and it was his own fault for not paying attention. The only time he had been right was when they found a few extra barrels of beer smuggled on the Terminus before it took off for another city. But there was no proof it was me.

Well, besides my toothy smile and how I was waving goodbye at that ship that day. My excuse had been I was waving Charlotte off, even if it had really been me making sure everything was in place. Greedy James didn't buy it, but he couldn't arrest me either.

Charlotte, she let it go while also keeping the beer for her and the crew. In fact, I wasn't sure what she did with it. I only know that she didn't take it off the ship.

George stood above me, holding his hand out. Taking it, I moved onto the bridge next, feeling the boat get pushed out from my feet. I rolled my shoulders as I followed him to go into the empty bar, giving the boat a final look as I didn't notice him tie it.

"Did you close it for the day?" I asked.

"Half the day," George answered as the door shut behind me. "I didn't need anyone here with the hanging going on. We'll have people coming shortly to try and get drunk to forget about what happened."

I knew he was right about that. Some of them felt regret or pain after the fact. Or even guilt for being someone who cheered for the person to be hanged.

"Are you going to let them in?" I took a seat at a round table, watching as George moved behind the counter.

"No." He grabbed a tankard, filling it with stale beer. "They can wait for the next hour or two it takes me to open again. If they need a drink so soon after watching that then they should have done something to stop it."

"You sound like a man who dreams of a world where hangings don't happen." I watched as he filled another tankard. "Do you have cinnamon?"

"You know I don't."

I sighed, hoping that he would have gotten some in. I hadn't checked the inventory since the last time he had me cook crab imperial the week before. It was one of the most requested dishes we had, but George in his need to save money, only served it once a month and left me to figure out how to get it right.

Something I still haven't done and the customers complain enough that I was about to throw in the towel with it.

He came back to the table once he was done, setting one of the tankards in front of me before he took the opposite seat. Grabbing it, my nose wrinkled as the lukewarm bitter taste filled my mouth.

"Cinnamon would have helped."

Silence consumed the place, allowing the sound of the sea to enclose around us. At least that was until the sound of someone walking heavily on the ship, came. Soon, the door jiggled, but it couldn't be opened. Unhappy voices floated through the white wood, but they were too muffled to make out.

It was a guess, but I assumed they were cursing out the green-eyed man before me.

The jiggling door and muffled voices reminded me of the last hanging that happened two years before. A boy, fifteen or sixteen, was accused and found guilty of stealing. George and I had watched it, not because we thought the boy was guilty but because up to the last second we tried different ways to get him free.

While George worked through the people I usually did smuggling with, I went to navy captains I knew. I filed complaints and even tried to use my name as a price.

Schmidt. Great captains could be liked to knowing my family. And my parents were even important figures. But still, our attempts fall onto deaf ears.

The only thing we hadn't done was threaten the hangmen or those who arrested and charged the boy. If we had, we would have ended up joining him in the end.

Much like this time, the people of Carlisle had called him what they thought he was. A thief. Scum. Filth.

We had walked back to the bar after he was hanged. A small group followed us as they realized once it was too late what they were for sentencing a boy to hang. George stopped them as they tried to enter the bar and kept it closed until near nightfall.

He said it was because he wasn't going to help them bury the guilt they felt. He said the boy shouldn't have been hung so rashly.

Back then, it had only been me and him for those hours. Neither one of us had found the will to break the silence that around us like a cold winter day. We had been lost in what we watched happen.

We couldn't save the boy.

We couldn't stop the hanging.

All we could do was watch as cold hard reality hit us over and over again. With our backs pushed towards the cold silver waters that waited to swallow us whole. Trapped between two things that could tear us apart: Watching while being unable to help and feel the burden; Help and be hanged with him.

Sighing, I raised the tankard once again and swallowed more of the stale liquid. My stomach twisted at the bitter taste as it burned my throat. I didn't lower it until it was completely empty, pushing the tankard away when it was.

Even the bitterness couldn't take away the memory. It couldn't stop the guilt that twisted or take the images of the hangings that appeared away.

Crossing my arms, I placed my head in them. George's chair moved, his shoes echoing on the hard wooden floor.

The boy back then had a quicker death than this pirate. It took one go, a few seconds, and the life was out of his eyes. The terror that had been in them was replaced with emptiness.

How many times had I seen someone get hanged? How many times would I continue to return and watch it, even when I know I shouldn't? Why couldn't I have just stayed away?

Too many people I knew were hanged. People that had come to the Going Sally a few times. Pirates. Saylors. Young and old. Even some who were just trying to survive.

A thump against the wooden table brought my head up. George returned, bringing more than I thought. Three tankards this time and some bread.

Old chewy bread that turned my stomach. I knew it would be helpful as I ate nothing that day but the sight of it didn't make me hungry.

"Eat."

I shook my head. "After that, I can't."

He pushed the bread towards me. Instead of grabbing it, I took a tankard, feeling the lukewarm beer as it went down more easily than the first. I didn't drain it as fast.

"Did you eat this morning?" He already knew the answer. "Don't think about what happened."

I could see the worry appearing from the way the corner of his lips moved down. "I'm fine," I said.

"You're not."

I rolled my eyes at that. I was fine. I had to be fine.

"You shouldn't have given me more beer then." I leaned back, folding my arms over my chest. "Why do you think they hang people?"

"Because they find it as justice. Because they don't agree with imprisonment. Because they don't care for humanity. It could be any number of reasons." Bitterness laced George's words.

"Do you think we'll be up there someday?"

His eyes grew cold as he answered. "Most likely."

It was a harsh truth that I often joked about with Hywel. I knew I would be up on the platform, waiting for a rope to go around my neck. It was only a matter of time before I got caught smuggling.

"Do you fear dying?"

"Yes," he said before taking a long sip. "I'd be insane not to."

Dying wasn't something I wanted to do, but it was only a matter of time before it came for me. Rather it be by sea or by hanging, it would come.

"Do you have anything you want to do before you die?" I asked.

"Yes." I waited for him to continue. "I do want to marry someday and have three kids."

A slight smile formed as a warm buzz spread through me. I could see him with a wife and children. Three mini hims running around, causing a lot of messes that he would fix. I knew he would change when that day came and that he would care more about living then.

He'd be stupid not to change and avoid the clenches of death.

"I always wanted five kids. Three boys and two girls. Of course, the girls need to be born first," I said looking at my hands again. "One day, maybe it'll happen."

It was easy to imagine that day. I would have left Carlisle, setting sail on some sort of ship. I'd go a few towns away or find an island to call home. Find a nice man or at least someone who didn't abuse me, get married and then have children.

Of course, that would also mean that I would give up the life I had. Stop smuggling. Stop getting favors and owing favors. Stop being who I was.

Those reasons were why I knew that it was nothing more than a dream. I wasn't going to leave Carlisle. Nor would I be able to quit doing what I did best.

"I didn't know you wanted kids." He sounded surprised.

"Why would I have talked about it before?" I asked, taking a sip. "Do you have a woman in mind? I know that pink-haired beastly woman wants to settle down soon."

"Sakura's a little too young."

I laughed, feeling myself getting warmer.

"She's nineteen. There's barely an age gap between you. Ten years is nothing." Moving forward, my hand fell on the table harder than I meant for it to. "Who is it then?"

"You really are a lightweight."

I frowned at that. "Say's the one who's sipping like an old lady on his first one."

The question of who he wanted to marry slipped my mind. It didn't matter, as I was sure that I didn't know her. Unless it was Sakura and he didn't want to admit it because he wasn't ready to confess his feelings.