Cain Marko: Part 3 - Charlotte...

[Cain Marko]

"The Hornet..."  My mouth was agape and I was dumbfounded.  This ship wasn't even supposed to be in this area.  Why the bloody hell was my...my...my ex-wife here?!  "Why the hell are we on the Hornet, Artie?!  Do you know what hell you just put me in?!"  I cringed in pain from the motion I had made while yelling.  Bloody arm.  It was going to be a great burden for a while.
                "Well Cain, there weren't any other ships in the area.  I'm just as surprised as you to see this ship here.  I thought she was on a smuggling mission in Saigon, but apparently this ship is just as fast as her sister ship.  I kind of wanted to see the internal mechanisms, but their mechanic won't even let me see the door.  Must be a marvel in there!"  Artie's face got all twisted up in bliss.  I never understood his fascination with machines.  To be honest, I thought I'd be better off without them.  Guess I'd better change that since I have this bloody arm now.  "Artie..."  He jumped out of his daze and looked at me, a little smirk on his face.  "What do I need to take care of this---"
                At that moment the door swung open and there stood a woman.  My ex-wife, Charlotte.  She still looked as radiant as ever.  Long, curly red-hair to the small of her back.  Eyes like emeralds and they glistened when she looked at me.  The figure of a duchess, and a posture to go with it.  She was always so high and proper.  I don’t even know why she ever married me, seeing as I’m a gutter rat.  Her eyes used to be full of love when she saw me and that smile could always make me do anything she wanted.  Now they were always trying to calculate the next move, but at the moment there was a touch of worry - and anger.
                "Seems the idiot is finally awake.  Now he can finally start answering my questions."  She walked to the bed quickly, but with grace.  Leaning forward, placing her hands on the rails of the bed, she looked into my eyes and smiled.  Not a warm smile.  More of "I've-finally-got-you-trapped" smile she always gives before she interrogates someone.  "So, Cain, where is my daughter?"
                I looked back into those eyes and gave here my steely gaze.  I've never been intimidated by this woman, and I've always been cautious when she asks a question.  But, at that precise moment, I had no answer.  No reply, retort, or bloody comment.  I just stared at her.  The look on her face went from calculating, to stern, to finally a bit of worry.  "Where is she Cain?"  Her voice had that hint of worry, too.
                I looked down at my hand, my young, calloused one and my new shiny, metallic one.  I made a fist with both and let a tear shed from both pain from my arm, and from the pain of not being able to do anything for my daughter.  She stared at me for a few seconds longer, then looked over at Artie.  She straightened herself, fixed her corset and placed a stern look back on her face, then proceeded to leave.  Before closing the door she looked over her shoulder and whispered, "I don't blame you," then walked out.