Deja Vu

~Year 1913~

It was another night on the deck. As the ship floated gently on the water, the crew had gathered together, all having a bottle of rum in hand, laughing at sailors' joked that they made.

"What is it about this Captain, anyway?" Irene asked in a manly voice, finally giving an end to the stupid laughter. "Why is he so heartless and cold?"

"Havenchu heard?" One of the men said. "They say that he had a rough past. God forbids of to talk about that incidence..."

"So the rumors are true?" Irene asked. "He lost his son and wife?"

"Of course it's true! We were there, ya see." said another man. "He 'ad his son and wife 'ere for a trip. But the bloody storm raged on. Do know what that's like, eh? He lost both of 'em in the rough waters."

Irene's eyes widened in horror. "You mean he doesn't have anyone else? Doesn't he have a family?"

"Rumors say that he had another woman pregnant after that awful year. But didn't stick with the poor wench."

Irene prevented herself from sighing in relief and she hoped from the button of her unbeatable heart that those rumors were true.

So the family line could continue for the third doppelgänger...

***

That night, Irene was planning to take her steps to the next level, getting closer to her agendas.

So when everyone else was asleep except for the ones who had duties on the deck, Irene paced toward Scott English's room.

She knocked in and when someone finally said 'come in' she opened the door and walked inside, closing it again behind herself.

Over the past few weeks, Captain acted differently; especially toward Irene. He smiled more often and to everyone's surprise, laughed.

"Ah, Irene. It's you." Scott smiled as his eyes landed on her.

"Do you ever sleep?" Irene chuckled, taking off the fake beard off her face as she walked over to Scott.

"I find three hours of sleep completely enough." He informed her, still smiling.

Irene looked down uneasily, taking careful steps closer and toward Scott as he watched her warily.

"Maybe the reason you find sleeping uncomfortable, is because there are memories still hunting you whenever you close your eyes." She said in low voice, approaching him more with every word she said.

"How do you–"

"I know everything, Scott English. I know you."

Scott looked away. "If you think that you can fix something that is broken, you're at the wrong. You can't do anything about it what's broken."

"This is about you, isn't it?" Irene said, stating that as a fact. "You're talking about yourself. You're broken and you're telling me that... That there is no way you can be fixed."

Silence filled the space between the two and Scott was trying to decide what to reply, or if not to reply at all.

"Yes." He finally nodded, his face getting colder. "Yes, I'm talking about myself."

"Your heart isn't broken. It just needs mending." I tried to near him but he backed away. "Let me help you–"

"I don't need your help! Don't you understand!? There's no hope for me!" He shouted. "Why are you waiting for a glint of a light in my heart when there is none!? Why are you trying to fix someone who doesn't want to be fixed!? Why are you still here!? WHY DON'T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!?"

"BECAUS I LOVE YOU!" Irene shouted.

But she knew that was lie.

But Scott English didn't know that. Which is why he was startled by that.

He looked into her big blue eyes and she gazed back.

They were standing too close to each other. So close that an inch was enough for their lips to connect.

And so that's exactly what Scott did.

His roughly placed her hands against Irene's rosy cheeks and pulled her toward himself, kissing her inviting ted lips.

He kissed her senselessly, not wanting to let go. But Irene pulled away, leaving him longing for more.

The moment their lips stopped touching one another, Scott felt an intense heat rush through every inch of his body, and then a killer feeling of coldness took over.

His head was spinning, his heart beating so fast as if it were to stop any moment.

And by one last glance at Irene, his eyes grew weight and he fell onto the ground, the world going black to his eyes.

***

From that awful and eventful night, nothing felt the same anymore.

Scott English didn't even bother to sleep those mere three hours anymore. He felt hot and cold and the same time.

Closing his eyes was enough for him to be tortured as all the worse memories he had flashed before him.

He had shot himself in his room, not letting anyone in.

He believed in his mind that he had started to feel an unbreakable love toward Irene, but his heart was saying something else; he felt that this love was different from others that he had once felt.

He felt like a part of his souls was attached to her... To her beautiful blue eyes.

There was this feeling inside him that told him he was willing to do anything for that woman.

"Please... Stay with me." He begged Irene one night when she was leaving him to stay in her own room, sweats against every inch of his body.

"Scott... I don't think what we have here... This is not right..." She said.

"No... No, please! I need you!" He trembled. "I'll do whatever you want."

This wasn't live he was feeling.

It wasn't lust either.

It felt like some sort of an attachment... A sense of full need, as if she had been the only reason he was breathing to live.

"How should I know that you'll do whatever I want?" Irene asked, nearing him in a dangerously close place.

"Just tell me what to do... I'll do it! But don't leave me... I need you..."

Scott English had gone mad, and every single person on the crew knew it. They had suggested to take him to a psych ward for his own good, but Irene prevented them from doing so.

All of the men of the crew had left Scott English after the Saint María ship hit the shore; because the ship never went back to the water again.

Although Scott stayed there, because he didn't have a home to go to, and Irene kept with him as well.

Once in awhile, the loyal men of the crew paid a short-lasting visit to their Captain, and to Irene's luck, that night was when another person came to visit Scott English.

Irene could hear someone walk on the deck... She knew who it was.

It was Smith, the youngest and kindest of the crew.

Irene sent one last glance at Scott before a smirk started playing at the edge of her lips.

"I think I know one thing that you can do to prove yourself to me." She said, walking forward to the desk and taking a small knife out of the drawer.

She walked to Scott English and handed it to him, not breaking the eye-contact with him, before muttering a word that no one dared speak...

"Kill." She whispered in his ear.

***

"CAPTAIN?" Smith shouted on the deck, forcing his voice through the pouring rain and the thunder that roared against the sky.

Time was breaking down the walls of the world as Irene and Scott stepped onto the deck.

"Oh, hey, Captain." said Smith cheerfully, walking toward Scott English. "Is there something wrong?" Smith asked, but he wasn't mentioning Scott's messy hair and unshaved face or his sweats of stress.

Unlike always, Scott English had his head facing the ground, his eyes red and burning from tears that he dared not let fall.

At last, by one last encouraging glance from Irene, Scott English looked up at the young boy, finally letting a tear fall.

"I am so sorry..." He muttered, his hands shaking, his voice trembling.

But before young Smith could get the chance to ask why, Scott English did something that forbade him to talk forever

Tears falling from his eyes, he stabbed the small knife into Smith's stomach.

Smith fell into his arms, now too weak and feeble to stand on his own feet.

"W-why...?" Smith tried to speak.

"You don't understand... I had to..." Scott muttered, laying Smith on the ground. "I'm sorry."