Dream – WIP

Pirates/National Treasure crossover: Usual disclaimers apply

This isn’t real, I must be dreaming. I was on a ship, I mean a real olden time ship. I could almost feel the up and down motion. It was kind of making me nauseous.

“Must be a dream.” I confirmed, looking down at my bed time jamies. The puppies and clouds are a bit childish but it’s winter and I don’t like it when my knees get cold.

“My exact sentiments, miss.”

I whirled around and spotted a disheveled looking man in long johns. Then again, I’m sure I have a horrible case of bed head, letting my hair loose instead of the usual shoulder length braid I put it in before climbing into bed. What can I say? I was exhausted.

I took another look and tried not to laugh at how ridiculous he looked.

“Stop smirking, it’s unlady like.” He reprimanded.

“Who lied to you and told you I was a lady?” I giggled. I never giggle in my waking hours, unless I don’t get sleep in over 24 hours then I just turn in a freakin’ hyena.

“What are you doing in my dream?” He peered at me like I was a weird looking bug.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing. Because I know for sure that my subconscious has no reason to conjure somebody lookin’ like you. You look like one of the Lost Boys that didn’t know he grew up.”

“Lost Boys? Who are the Lost Boys?” I freaked out at his question.

“Now I know something’s off. Something majorley weird is going on. If you were a product of my subconscious then you’d know who the Lost Boys were. What the hell!?”

He harrumphed, “Well I know you are not the norm for my dreams either, a Lady would not curse or dress in such a manner in my dreams. I demand you explain yourself and your reason for being here!”

“Oh, as if I could control this! Listen here buster, dream or not you do not treat me like this!”

He looked startled and blinked at me. He relaxed a bit from his stiff parade rest position and just looked a little confused before fiddling with the sleeves of his jamies, it kinda looked like he was doing it unconsciously. “I apologize, my dreams aren’t that often of women, especially women such as yourself.”

It was kinda nice being addressed that way but I knew it wasn’t to be. “I guess that’s alright.”

“Would you like to sit?” He gestured to a chair that suddenly appeared in the center of the deck of the ship.

“Uh, cool. Ok.” I sat and then a chair appeared across from me and he looked as surprised as I did when the first chair appeared. He sat down gingerly as if the chair would disappear from under him.

“So…what now?”

“Introductions, I suppose. I’m James.”

“Erin. Nice to meet you.” I offered my right hand automatically. He took it and turned it, then kissed my knuckles. Kinda made my knees go to jello. I was glad I was sitting down.

“An honor.” We sat silent for a moment. He opened his mouth when I interrupted him.

“If you even try to small talk me I’ll hurt you. No talk about weather. This is a freakin’ dream, you can talk about the weather with all the boring people that you spend your waking hours with.”

“Oh, very well.” He huffed. It was kind of cute. “Are you married?”

“Are you?” I countered. He scowled at me. I shook my head and laughed at him. “No, I’m not, not even thinking about it. Not for a looooong time.”

“Neither am I, my mother is quite upset with me that I have not yet taken a bride.”

“I just noticed that you speak with that British accent.”

“Just now?” He raised a handsome (since when have I noticed it anyway?) eyebrow at me. “Not quite that quick, are you?”

“You’re making fun of me, that ain’t right.” It was his turn to laugh. “Anyway, why is your mama that up in arms? You’re an adult, you can make your own decisions.”

“Because I’m her youngest son and the only one of her children unmarried. She wants to have many grandchildren before she passes on.”

“That’s selfish of her. What about you? You want to get married?”

“I did, at one time. But she didn’t feel the same for me as I did for her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, you have nothing to apologize for.”

“True, but I’m still sorry about what happened. You seem like a nice guy, I’m sure that you’ll find someone to reciprocate your feelings.” I paused and grinned at myself. “Reciprocate, see? I’m ed-u-mi-kay-ted.”

“Clever.” He deadpanned.

“Go on, grin. You know you want to.” He did. “Anyway, you still want to get married?”

“I suppose, when the situation arises. Until then, I shall not get my hopes up. And yourself? I’m sure that you’ve been courted, if you are a fraction as amicable awake as you are now.”

“Courted? You mean date? Yeah, I’ve dated, but they’ve all been jerks and just had one thing on their mind. I didn’t have time for that, I had my studies to focus on, and a messy relationship would have just gotten in the way.” Wow, that was the first time that I admitted that aloud. It kind of felt liberating.

“Studies? What do you study?”

I puffed up proudly. “Anthropology. With a focus on the peoples of Europe during Pre-Christian times. It’s very fascinating. Did you know that the Celts had laws pertaining to the independence of the female population during the same time the Roman laws viewed females as third class citizens?”

He blinked at me.

“Sorry, just getting excited about it. That and really old stuff like coins and pottery and the like. I’d like to be a curator of a major museum one day.”

He just blinked at me again. It was getting annoying.

“Please say something.”

“Oh pardon, I’ve never met a woman so enthusiastic about learning.”

“You bet your ass! I love learning about peoples of the past.”

“What do your parents think?”

“They’re overjoyed. They thought I’d follow my mother’s Family Legacy about finding the lost treasure of the Free Masons. As if I care about treasure.”

“Oh? Don’t you care about gold and diamonds and such?” He had a queer look in his eye as he asked me.

“I would only care of such things to sell them and buy more books with it. James, all I care about is furthering my education, how will we know the history of people if all we look at is how much money they made? And who had It and who didn’t. It’s the people that make up history. It’s the people that I’m interested in. How will we know who we are as a whole if we don’t look at the many faces of civilization? Just because the people that wrote the history books lived in cities does not mean that the illiterate ones did not exist. It‘s their stories I‘m trying to find. It‘s their stories that I want to tell.”

“Miss Erin, that was the most impassioned plea I’ve ever heard.” His voice took on a husky tone. “In fact I may be aroused by it.”

I giggled uncomfortably, I mean, talk about out of the blue! He grabbed my hand and pulled me up with him. I had to crane my head back to look him in the eye, he definitely had an advantage, height wise anyway.

“I’m beginning to like this dream, I think.” I whispered, he grinned at me. Then leaned down, oh yeah, me likey this dream.

It was then I woke with a jerk. And that jerk had a name. Benjamin Franklin Gates. My cousin. Ug!

I answered the incessantly ringing phone with an angry and annoyed “What?!”

“Good morning grumpy. I thought you’d like to hear some news.”

“I sweartagod, Ben, if it’s another damn goose chase for Charlotte-”

“Not goose chase, goose found.”

“Say what?! No fucking way!”

“Yeah, way! She’s in the Arctic.”

I paused and thought about it. “It makes sense. If a storm had carried her off, and killed the crew, the Atlantic tides at the time would have her drift northward then-”

“Then with the freezing and thawing of the ice flows, she would be buried under ice and snow for centuries, until now.”

“An expedition of that magnitude-”

“I got a financial backer. You want in?”

“You asshole.”

“One time offer.”

“I can’t leave on a whim that you’d find Charlotte. I actually want to get my degree.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll catalogue everything we find and send you copies. That satisfy you?”

I grinned. Don’t get me wrong, I love my cousin, but he is such a pushover.

“Yea, verily. Document everything, and I mean everything. Pictures, digital pictures, notes, the works.” I laid back, mentally going over the list of things that were needed to be done with a typical dig. “Oh! And charts and graphs in which the items were found with the matching charts about the depth in which the items were found.”

“You’re going to make me work, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Knowing he’d hear the grin on my face. He heaved a long suffering sigh.

“Alright. Anything else?”

“You know my email addy, right?”


“Then you should be good to go.”

“I’ll try and keep you updated on the progress. I’ll talk to you later.”

“God speed, Ben. And BE CAREFUL! I don’t need another Gates family member put in the ground too soon.”

“I will.” His voice softened. “You take care of yourself too, I know how you get when you go on studying binges.”

“Love you, Ben-Ben.”

“Love you, too, squirt.”

I hung up the phone and checked the time. I had 3 hours to get to my first class of the day.  I growled at the phone and begrudgingly got out of bed. I hate Mondays.

[email protected]!~

By afternoon I had dark circles under my eyes, I’m sure I looked like the walking dead. Christina, my study buddy commented on it.

“You look like crap.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

“I told you to get more sleep!”

“Hey, I was trying! My stupid cousin decided to call me this morning.”

“A social call?”

“Sort of. He wanted to know if I wanted to go to the Arctic with him.” I’m pretty sure that her eyes bugged out.

“What did you say?”

“I said No, God, Christina, what did you think I was going to say?”

“Um, yes?”

“You are such a dork.”

“What? I don’t know, you know how the Gates reputation is.”

“Yeah, but I’m only a Gates on my mother’s side. I’m a Ramirez.”

“Yeah, but Gates reputation won out.”

“Will you stop? Come on, if we don’t pass the final we won’t be eligible for the summer dig. I don’t know about you, but spending summer in Ireland sounds pretty damn good to me.”

“You think you stand a chance? You kind of have the Mark of Cain going on here. Figuratively of course.”

“Please don’t depress me, not on a Monday.”

“Sorry, but you’re kinda zoning out.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just getting little flashbacks of a dream I had last night.”

“Oh? Wanna share?”


“Party pooper.”

“Celts, Christina, Celts. Focus!”

She sighed. “Celts.”

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