Day 6, morning

My watch buzzed, waking me up. I was groggy. I rubbed my eyes and winced. Yikes, that hurt. I gingerly felt some cuts and bruises on my face and wondered when that had happened. I checked my heading.

North.

Wonder why I was going north?

I was still dressed in my full land clothing. Must have fallen asleep soon after leaving port. It was hot. I shrugged off my long sleeves and other layers until I was down to my tank top and undershorts.

I pulled out some embroidery from the storage box nearby and began working a filigree pattern into a silk bodice. North, I mused. What was north? My memories would return in time. I wasn’t worried. I focused absently on the thread and on the waves. There was a small shuffling over by the steps and I froze as one tiny hand, followed by a second, reached above the stairs. A small baby, a toddler, hauled himself up the steps and toddled over to me.

My brain stalled. What was I looking at?

The toddler pulled himself up on my leg and I automatically picked him up and settled him on my lap. He had form. He was real. He touched my face and I touched his. What magic was this? Was this a real child? Had my brain finally cracked open? The small boy turned himself on my lap and grabbed hold of the wheel. I cuddled him closer and sang him nursery rhymes and enjoyed the feel of his heavy innocence against my tired soul.

“John Henry!” A voice shouted followed by several people racing up the stairs. I spun in shock and pulled out my pistol to guard the child from harm. I held the child tight, shielded him with my body and took aim at the two strange women intruders.

“Stay back!” I warned them. They froze in terror. “Who are you and what are you doing on my ship!”

“Captain! It’s Bessie.” A young woman, clear brown skin and terrified brown eyes, held her arms out. The pale young woman behind her was frightened, eyes glued to the baby I held in one hand and the firearm in my other. “Remember? Remember please?” she begged but my stubborn memories stayed closed to me.

“Is this your baby?” I demanded.

“He’s mine. Please, let him go.” The pale young woman reached for him in spite of her terror.

“Shall I get Lady Isabelle?” this Bessie whispered to her mistress.

“Who?” I yelled, pistol still aimed at them.

“Lady Isabelle," this supposed Bessie spoke to the barrel of my gun.

Isabelle? Izzy? Was my sister on this ship?

And that did it. The floodgates in my head opened and I remembered. I holstered the gun and looked at the baby in my arms and quickly handed him over to his mother who ran back below with him. Bessie hesitated until I told her to get out and then she fairly flew back down the steps. I ran my shaking hands through my hair and grabbed the notebook in the box buried under my embroidery. I remembered it all now. Andrews...my god. He was there. He was there. My stomach twisted and I couldn’t get enough air. The memory of his horrified face through the smoke was seared into my brain.

I looked back south to where Bermuda lay. Mary, Dom, Davies, Magnus – my life was over there and I was here. My life was over there. I was here. I had to live my life here, not miles away. How many years had I invested in that place? Gone. My business. Gone. My home. Gone. My family – I wiped uselessly at my eyes and gasped and sobbed until I felt rung out.

And on top of that Izzy had seen my scars.

I twisted back around to look northward and grabbed the notebook to scribble some notes for myself in the hopes that if I woke up without my memory again, the notes would clue me in before I appeared too crazy and unbalanced.

I redressed in all my layers to hide the scars from my passengers' eyes. Izzy knew about the Fountain. Graham had watched me burn and Izzy had seen my scars. I felt cracked and broken like a shattered mirror, and just as irreparable. I was in pain. I was in hell.

The ship was fine. I set my alarm for twenty minutes. I needed more sleep.