No sleeping late today. At six thirty sharp, Olivia was awakened by a sharp pain in her forehead, instinctively grabbing the lap on James' nightstand to defend herself against whoever had hit her with the . . . brick?

There was a brick on the pillow next to her, just sitting there, rectangular and red. Oh. She thought. Okay.

She looked up. I knew she hated me, but not that much . . .

"God, lady. Was that necessary?"

Heath rolled her eyes. "You sleep like a brick. Took one to wake you up."

"Well screw you then."

"I wouldn't say that, girl. I'm your teacher now."

"What?"

Olivia stared at Heath in bewilderment. Bad dye job, tight pants and all, the woman was surprisingly formidable. Especially when there were bricks on hand. What was up with that anyway? She had just come into the room with a stack of bricks and started chucking them at her face . . . ?

"Why'd you have to do that?" She wondered aloud, pointing to the brick, then to her smarting forehead. It didn't seem to be bleeding, thank god.

Heath rolled her eyes some more. "You need to learn to wake up on time."

"Did James tell you to do this...?"

"He told me to whip you into shape," Heath retorted, throwing another, softer bundle toward Olivia. "And that's what I'm going to do. So you can either keep complaining about it, or get changed and meet me on deck in five."

With that, she gave Olivia one more snobby smile and shut the door behind her.

The moment she was gone, Olivia stuck both of her middle fingers in the air, poking her tongue out at the door. Self righteous snobby motherf....

Well, at least she had some more clothes now. Assuming James didn't mind, she flicked open the wardrobe and began to pile the shirts, pants and shoes inside, stopping to look at each one in either distaste or contempt.

Upon tossing a pair of leather boots inside, she became aware of a quiet crumpling sound that came about every time she put something on the bottom.

Moving aside her shoes and belts, she uncovered a small trove of papers and pictures.

"Nice hiding spot, James," she mumbled to herself. "At least get a shoe box . . ."

Of course, Olivia knew that she should respect his privacy and leave his stuff alone, but her curiosity got the best of her.

The first picture she picked up was of a small boy, looking to be about six years old, standing next to a man who looked startlingly like James, but with something slightly off about his face. Ah, so that was his father.

Six year old James was still adorable, with shaggy brown hair hanging down in his eyes and a little brown vest that matched his father's. Olivia recognized the deck of the Fina in the background. So his father had owned the ship before James?

The man in the next photo was, undeniably, James. He was standing next to . . . wait, was that Heath? She held a bundle of blankets to her chest, a tiny fist revealed in the fold of the blanket. They wore identically enthusiastic smiles, nothing like the ones they carried nowadays.

She heard footsteps down the hallway.

Shoving the rest of her clothes in the wardrobe, she shut the wooden doors and stood up.

Nothing, nothing. Don't mind me. Just snooping in your secrets, nothing to worry about.

But it wasn't James, or Heath, or anyone coming into his cabin. The door stayed shut and Olivia stayed out of the wardrobe for the rest of the day.

XXX

Random Note: I'm renaming most of the chapters