Non-temporally active species will tell you that history is written and immutable.
Time Lords, of course, know this is not the case.
What even Time Lords sometimes fail to recognize is this: History lies.
On board The Revenge, life for Anne and me was good. Good, of course, being an understatement.
We were free. In the absolutely truest sense of the word. We took what we wanted, we went where we wanted. We answered to no one. The sea was our entire world, and it was ours!
Romantic tales of adventure will tell you all about pirates of that era: violent, but honourable, adhering to a code of ethics while defying legitimate authority of government and law.
While I admit to having a... profound nostalgia for my time with Anne on The Revenge, I hold no such nonsensical illusions. Life was hard. Life was dangerous. Life was violent. In the months I sailed with Anne, I drew steel more often than I ever had with Ichi. Blood flowed like rum in those days.
Of course, rum ALSO flowed like rum.
I will, at this time, need to digress from the main story of my tale to provide some necessary exposition.
Music, they say, is the language of the soul (if one believes in such a thing). It is also said it is the language of the hearts. The latter, I will not disagree with. I learned, in my time with Ichi, how to play certain types of flutes and pipes. It's something I don't do publically, nor do I normally discuss it, but it is important, at this time to mention it.
I always carried with me, in those days, a reed flute that I would play in times of solitude.
I had also, however, devised a variation of a Stattenheim remote, which I installed into my flute. While I had no desire to leave my life with Anne, I knew it would be necessary, at some point, to have access to Bifrost, and, so, the need for the... Stattenheim flute.
Tangent over.
Governor Rogers had signed warrants for me, Anne and our crew for arrest on charges of piracy. This didn't surprise me in the least, of course, but, between the narwhals and the freedom of our life (not to mention my love of Anne), I allowed myself to get sloppy.
One day, we had come across another small crew of pirates on their own ship. It was too much for them to handle on their own, and we decided it would be helpful to have a second ship working with us, and so, an accord was struck. We all dropped anchor on a small island near Jamaica and went ashore to celebrate the new fleet. There was... a great deal of rum consumed.
There was one other woman aboard The Revenge, Mary Read. She had come aboard disguised as a man and had become friendly with Anne. Eventually, her secret came out, but she was nearly a match for my Anne in a fight, and so, she was accepted among the crew.
While we were all ashore for celebrations, Anne and I went off on our own (as did Mary and one of the new crew) to have... private celebrations.
It was during those celebrations, we were found by John Barnett, noted pirate hunter. The Revenge had already been taken and the crew were being rounded up.
Capture, of course, meant death, and I couldn't have that.
So, as quickly as I could, I grabbed my clothes (or so I thought) and tried to grab Anne to make our escape.
But it was too late. While I escaped (with, what I discovered to be the new crewman's clothes. He had been left with my distinctly colourful garb, instead), Anne had been taken.
And I was far too outmatched (and, shamefully, intoxicated) to fight at all.
I had to wait for Barnett and his men to depart, and then I summoned Bifrost.
While it was good to be back in my TTC, I couldn't hesitate. She'd self repaired enough to be able to traverse space (though not, yet, time, or, at least, not controlled fully) and so, I set a course to a cell within the jail at Spanish Town with the hope of breaking Anne out.
By the time I'd materialized, however, a good amount of time had passed. Anne was still in her cell, but most everyone else had been taken to Port Royal and hanged, and Mary had died of fever.
Anne, herself, was not doing very well, but she did manage to fill me in on what happened.
She knew that everyone was going to be killed, and, to keep the hunters from finding me, convinced them that the new crewman, who had been left with my clothes, was, in fact, me (though he denied this for... well... the rest of his life).
Anne and Mary had "pled their bellies", which is to say, they had claimed to be pregnant, to avoid immediate execution (though neither was, of course), in the hopes of finding a way to escape.
History lies.
History will tell you that Calico Jack Rackham was gibbeted just off Point Royal and no records exist of Anne Bonny past her conviction.
What history will also tell you... if you listen hard enough... is the story of a sugar plantation owner named John Ransom and his wife Katheryn, living quietly in Cuba, raising two children (adopted) and living a happy, if somewhat... mundane life.
I loved Anne. For the twelve years we lived as John and Katheryn, we were very happy. Free, though, in a different way.
I wish I could tell you that was the end of our story. That we lived until she died of old age, and I will always remember her.
However...
Twelve years after we began our new life, while we were out in the cane fields, Anne began complaining of a headache. It seemed perfectly normal at first, but it seemed to build to a debilitating level. She collapsed to the ground, screaming.
Before I could get to her, however, there was a wheezing sound in the air... familiar, but also distinctly different from what I would have expected.
It was the sound of a Gallifreyan TTC's engines materializing.
While I watched, I saw a strange capsule materialize around Anne. As it was fading in, I saw Anne look up at me, tears in her eyes. She shouted her feelings for me...
And then the capsule vanished.
A moment later, I heard her in my mind.
"I remember... And I'll see you soon, Peacock."
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