What if he finds out we never made it?
Who: Rachel and Isabela What: Isabela thought she was shipping one thing but it turns out it was something else When: 7/7 Where: At sea Status: Complete Rating/Warnings: PG-13, abuse and trafficking trigger warnings, needles/drugs… honestly canon typical violence for both canons.
It was supposed to be different. It was just supposed to be moving some drugs, the kind that were heavily regulated. Some money on the side so that she didn’t have to always do chats and cams. Not that she hated doing that, but it wasn’t the acting she’d wanted to do.
It was her fault. If Rachel had been more careful about fooling around with Chloe, if she had avoided seeing her, if she had used a different phone to talk to her with...then maybe Mark wouldn’t have turned on her.
Even as she thought that she knew that was Mark talking. She’d known all along, but had been too terrified of asking for help. She’d turned down every chance for help, and her escape plans had been mostly academic and she’d given herself many excuses for why she didn’t go through with it. And then she’d found out the truth, that it wasn’t drugs. It was people. 10 girls, mostly around her age. And she’d tried to stop Mark, finally done something.
But now her ribs hurt, her lungs ached, blood caked her nose and her eye was swollen shut. Rachel lay with her head in a girl’s lap, too tired to feel the anger she knew was there. Somewhere beneath the self-loathing and depression anyway. She didn’t even know how many days she’d been locked up.
Lately running this cargo hadn't been worth it to Bela. Her dreams had made being a Pirate sound romantic and freeing. Sailing the seas, looting and pillaging, getting rich and kicking her crew into line. But Mark was the one kicking people into line this time, and Bela damned well knew it. She'd never seen it happen to anyone, but that didn't mean it was happening.
And he'd already said enough threatening things to her that she was certain she, herself, wasn't safe. Not if she screwed this up. He'd made that abundantly clear before she'd left the harbor. So clear, in fact, that she'd sent a text off to Miranda to let her know to keep an eye out, just in case.
It was about halfway down the coast line that a little voice in her mind - probably Joe's, damn that man's conscience - told her that maybe this time she ought to take a look.
She headed down to the cargo area after pulling the ship to a stop, and lo and behold - there they were, 11 girls that all looked barely legal. And one of them was beaten within an inch of her life. Bela knew that face, despite all the bruising. She let out a long sigh. "Shite."
Rachel hadn’t expected the cargo door to open so soon. It felt like they were still at sea, not that she really knew what that meant. But it felt like they were floating on big waves and not dock-waves. Or something. She wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.
“...I had no idea.” She managed to say.
"Oh I think you had some idea, kitten. At least about your own situation." Bela replied, while shaking her head. She'd asked Rachel to open up about this months ago, but there was only so much someone could do for people inside abusive relationships.
She pushed the cargo door open a little wider and then motioned to the girls. "Well, come on out of here. I'm not about to keep you locked in my cargo bay like you're some sort of sad stowaways or something. There's beds upstairs, we'll get you all settled in."
And then she'd have to handle this mess. This really, really awful mess. Bela waited for the girls to start moving out and then went to help Rachel up. "This is a fine mess we're in."
“I …Yeah.” Rachel nodded her head with a groan. It hurt to nod, like it hurt to breathe. She clung to Isabela, “Not how I pictured being pressed against you.”
Hey, she could make a joke, that was a good sign, right? It was better than facing the reality of the situation. Mark could have killed her. It would have been easy. And better than what had actually happened, honestly.
A lot better.
"You've pictured me pressed all up against you, eh?" Bela asked. She couldn't help but flirt, even in this situation. There really was no turning it off. Rachel was in bad shape and there wasn't much she could do in a yacht in the middle of the ocean, but she helped her up the stairs and into the crew galley. Bela pointed her towards a chair and fished an ice pack out of the freezer.
"I’m going to get the others settled in. Sit there and don't move. Put this on... anything that hurts. I'd start with the eye."
“Thank you.” Rachel settled with pressing it on her face. She wanted to know how far they’d gotten. How far away from dock they were. She was terrified that Mark would be there, waiting still. That he’d hurt Isabela, or herself.
Or, god, find Chloe and hurt her. “Gotta...warn Chloe.”
"Can you warn her without your boyfriend getting wise?" Bela asked, as she walked back into the kitchen. There was a first aid kit in her hands, though she had no idea how much help it was going to be. "We're miles off the seaboard, but I've got a satellite phone for emergencies."
Taking a clean towel out of a drawer, Bela wet it and walked over to start cleaning Rachel's face. "I've got medicine here, but this is all gonna sting."
“I don’t have my phone, I never memorized her number. She’s probably worried sick.” Rachel winced, hissing at the stinging on her face. “What... what if he’s there? What if he finds out we never made it? What if we just kept sailing?”
"Oh I'm very familiar with that idea, the just keep sailing thing." Bela replied, after snorting some air out through her nose. She made quick work of all the caked up blood, then gently tilted Rachel's face this way and that to check the damage. "Thing is, eventually they catch up with you. You can't sail far enough. And if you care enough you just feel like utter shite about it all. So you end up sailing all the way back, regardless."
She started applying a few bandaids here and there, and shook her head, "No, we're going to have to face this. Someone has to. I've got a gun, so maybe it should be me."
“This is my fault, I can’t run away.” Rachel already had once, and she looked guilty just thinking about it. She’d run away from Chloe, because Mark had gotten in her head and pressed on every sore point and crack that existed.
“...can we shoot the fucker?”
"Well, we'll have to be very careful how we do it. No one wants to do prison time, I've seen all the movies." Bela joked. But her mind was already thinking its way through a plan of sorts.
"I'm going to have to turn this ship around. We can't deliver these girls to Mexico, and that means your - I hope he's your EX boyfriend now, by the way - is going to have my arse. So first, we need to get our cargo off of this ship somewhere else."
“Isn’t there some kind of OC police?” Rachel asked, trying to get to her feet. She still felt unsteady, and held her hand over her left side. Get the girls off the ship, that was a good idea. “Find a dock, anonymous tip?”
Bela pushed her back into the chair, clucking her tongue in a scolding manner that made her feel like her own mother. Now that was chilling. "Something's either bruised or broken in there and I don't need you puncturing a lung, so you're staying down and quiet. And... I suppose that's one way to handle it."
Either way they weren't getting out of this clean. Mark had threatened her, but what would he do to Rachel now that she wasn't inside a shipping crate? Isabela let out an internal string of curses over how involved in everyone's lives she'd become. She couldn't cut Rachel loose any more than she could just stick the other girls on a raft and leave them for dead. Any of those options would have been better for her.
"I'll have to go ashore for that. I'm not making that call from here. So first thing's first... checking my bearings. YOU stay put. I'm going to the bridge."
Rachel’s throat bobbed, and she nodded, finding a place to sit and watch the ocean. Had Chloe even noticed she was missing? Would she even put in half the effort she had for Ilia? Rachel had her doubts, resting her face in her hands. It was what she deserved.
She felt the ship turn, a little surprised at how easily it did so. To make herself feel better and busy, she went into the galley to make something for the girls to eat. It was well stocked and impossibly luxurious. The kind of thing Rachel had always dreamed of.
By the time they’d freed the girls into trusted hands near San Diego, she was feeling a little better. Still numb, but better, and planning what she needed to do. Mark wouldn’t react well to this, and Rachel didn’t think she could confront him. She’d been scared enough about her suspicions over cutting Chloe’s brakes, so this? Felt impossible. But maybe she could sneak in, steal her phone and the escape bag she’d been making, and get out.
The closer the lights of Huntington Beach grew though, the more nervous she felt.
When they finally dropped anchor off the coast, Bela headed down into the galley. Gone was the casual flirty expression she usually wore on her face, replaced with a grim mask of resolve. There was a gun in her hand, one she'd taken the time to load properly. "I'm going to take you ashore in the speedboat. If he's at the docks, stay behind me."
One of the things she'd always liked to say back in the world of Thedas was that everyone was only responsible for themselves. It had been that way her entire life, but here they were. Bela was certain someone was going to end up bleeding before the night was over, but she'd be damned if it was Rachel. That girl had bled enough.
Hopefully, it would be Mark. "We made good time, but he might already be on to us somehow. Keep your wits about you. Be ready to run."
“I’m good at running,” Rachel said. But she hadn’t been good enough. She climbed into the speed boat, muttering a prayer to any god who’d listen.
But Mark was waiting for them, and he was furious. Rachel stayed behind Isabela, torn between fury of her own and gut wrenching terror.
"Hello there, Mark. You've been a naughty boy. I'd wax poetic over how handsome you look tonight, except that I happen to know precisely how ugly you really are and I'm not a big fan of lies that don't get me anything." Bela said, after stepping onto the dock. Her brain was already swiftly thinking through various scenarios that were really, none of them, that great.
She glanced around to see if he'd brought backup. The pistol was tucked against her back, and hopefully she'd be quick enough to grab it if needed. No need to escalate a situation you could talk your way out of.
“You’ve fucked with the wrong people, Isabela. Do you have any idea how much I’m on the hook for? And you!” He pointed at Rachel, “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
“You lied to me,” Rachel said. Like that was somehow the biggest personal grievance she had. It wasn’t, but it was the only one she could latch onto right now. She flinched when Mark took a few steps towards them. There was nothing behind them but ocean.
"Oh we're familiar with your kind of talking," Bela replied. "And if you're going to speak like that to anyone again it had better be me. I at least know how to talk back."
"And maybe you should have thought about what you would and wouldn't have been on the hook for before you started trading in flesh. Did you really think I wouldn't check the cargo? Do you have any idea who you're messing with? I don't think you do, but you're going to find out."
“I’m not the one you should be afraid of.” There was genuine fear in his eyes. “Come on Rach, lets go.”
He held out his free hand, and when Rachel didn’t step forward he shouted, “You bitch!”
Bela pulled her gun from her back in one fluid motion, though it was something she wasn't actually practiced at. In her dreams, black powder was barely a thing, and no one had muskets, but just like with her daggers it was all in the wrist.
"I've pissed off bigger things, Mark. And I think you'll find that Rachel doesn't want to go anywhere with you."
“I planned for this,” Mark said. He pointed behind Isabela, to where her beautiful yacht lay anchored. “If you think anyone would do business with someone who dumps their cargo at the first sign of trouble you have another thing coming.”
There was a flash of light, and then the sound of an explosion rippling across the water as fire consumed the ship.
There would have been several retorts to Mark's words, but Isabela bit every single one of them back as the explosion rocked the water around the dock and caused the boards under her feet to creak. No one present could deny what had just happened, though she actually whispered a prayer to anyone who would listen - hells, even Andraste Herself - if it meant that when she turned to take in the sight it would be anything but her own ship.
Smoke plumed out of The Varuna's windows and doors, flames licked the side, and the fiberglass was already starting to succumb to the heat of it. Worse, the end that had held her cargo was starting to sink. Isabela fell to her knees and barked out a laugh as the irony washed over her.
In the dreams it had been a storm, but most of the rest of the circumstances remained the same. Captain Isabela, it seemed, was simply destined to lose the ship she loved the most.
“Isabela!” Rachel’s warning came a second too late. Mark jabbed a needle into her neck, then almost casually pushed her so she’d fall forward onto the dock. Then he rolled her off of it with his foot.
Rachel let out a scream that was abruptly cut short by a backhand, before Mark grabbed her by the hair and pulled her away.
The fire on The Varuna licked higher and hotter, impossibly so, the flame reflecting in Rachel’s eyes. This was her fault this was all her fault.