Well, despite the fact that apparently only two people are reading this, I shall continue because they were kind enough to review.

anyway, this chapter actually has some funny parts, at least I think so. Ch. 3 is also almost done, so that will be up soon as well.

and now for the forgotte disclaimer:

No, sadly I don't own POTC or any of the fabulous characters (although I do own cardboard cutouts of them :)

Elizabeth sat at the kitchen table, the sole light in the room a lone flickering candle. The sun had long since set, and all her curious or well-meaning neighbors had gone home. There were dark circles under her eyes as she stared at the note, rereading it for the thousandth time.

How was she supposed to choose? If she didn't give them the chest, her son would be killed. Tears began to roll down her cheeks. If she did give them the chest, they would kill Will, and probably kill Dylan anyway. So what should she do? It seemed that either way, it was unlikely that she would ever get her son back. That thought brought a fresh wave of tears, and she buried her head in her crossed arms, sobbing.

Regaining control of herself, she got up and started pacing around the room, talking to herself.

"Ok, what you need is a plan. You can't just go into this blindly. Right now, what do you know? That two men took Dylan, that they want the Dead Man's Chest, and that presumably, they don't know where it is." She was glad that she had thought to hide it somewhere away from her house. She had hidden it in a very secure place that she was sure no one would ever find. There was only one other person on the planet who even knew where it was, and for some reason, she trusted him enough to not be worried. And although the note did not say to bring the chest with her to Tortuga, she would need to retrieve it at some point, and that could be troublesome.

"All right, so that's all I know. Now what don't I know?" she asked herself, now pacing in circles around the table as she talked to herself. "I don't know who it is that wants the chest, or even if they actually plan on stabbing Will's heart, although it seems to be the most likely course of action. I also don't know where they've taken Dylan or where they want me to take the chest." She slumped back into her chair.

"I guess that's it then. I need more information if I'm going to save both Will and Dylan, and the only way I'm going to get it in Tortuga!"

Two days later, Elizabeth, or John, as she had introduced herself to the crew of the Fine Commerce, stepped off said ship and into the town of Tortuga. Dressed as a man, she felt completely confident. Putting on pants for the first time in over three years had almost been a religious experience for her, and she certainly didn't miss the corsets. She didn't see how she'd ever go back to wearing them and those annoying skirts again.

It was early evening, so the drunks were not out in full force yet as she made her way to The Faithful Bride. There was only one or two men stumbling around, most people were still sober, but she knew that it wouldn't last long after nightfall. She hurried to the tavern, hoping to avoid the drunken rush later, and to find a room for the night.

Inside the tavern, she was met with sights, sounds, and smells that were all too familiar to her. Although there was no mass brawl or drunken frenzy yet, the room was still filled with people talking, eating and drinking. A band was playing a familiar song in the corner, and the whole place reeked of rum, smoke, and sweat. She weaved through the crowd and made her way up to the bartender.

"Excuse me, I was told to come see you about some information," she said after getting the scraggly old man's attention.

"Yeah? You and a million others. Wha's yer name, boy?"he asked sourly.

"Elizabeth Swa- Turner. My name's Elizabeth Turner," she said. He squinted his eyes, an eyebrow raised in surprise, but reached under the bar for a grubby note anyway.

"I'd also like to rent a room for the night," she asked, tucking the note safely into her vest.

"That'll be 5 shillings," she paid him, and he tossed her a set of keys, "Up the stairs, first room on the right. I'd keep it locked if I was you."

She thanked him and headed upstairs. Her room was small, the only furnishing a large bed that took over most of the room. She shuddered in disgust, realizing why. Maybe she'd be sleeping on the floor, since the sheets probably hadn't been washed since the previous occupants. She pulled the note out of her vest and unfolded it with shaking hands.

Mrs. Turner

I see you've decided to save you son. Good. Now would be the time to retrieve the Chest from where ever you've hidden it, and bring it to Isle of Devils. On the south side of the largest island, you will find a large boulder with the letters R P carved on the side. Approximately three miles inland you will come to an old abandoned settlement. We'll be waiting in the church. Bring the Chest, and don't be late.

Elizabeth stretched out on the floor. She'd been too disgusted to even look at the bed. Thoughts were rushing around her head at an alarming rate. Ok, so now she knew where she needed to go to find her son, but she still didn't know what she was going to do. She didn't know how she was going to get there, how she would rescue her son once she got there, and she had no idea how she would get Will's heart. Obviously she wasn't going to give it to them, but she'd at least need the chest. The problem was, she wouldn't know how to get to the chest even if she had a crew and ship to take her there. It was hidden very well, someplace she had been, but not someplace she could find. She was going to need a miracle.

Her stomach rumbled. Apparently she would need food first. She was hesitant about leaving the relative safety of her locked room and traveling into the alcohol fueled chaos below, but she never was too good with hunger. She stiffly rose from the floor, and, taking a deep breath, unlocked her door and walked out of her room.

If the hallway was madness, it was nothing compared to the mass pandemonium downstairs. Suddenly wishing she had a cutlass, Elizabeth elbowed her way over to the bar. She got a bowl of soup and a mug of rum. Much to her dismay, they stopped serving anything alcohol free after sundown. Carefully balancing her food, she fought her way to the back corner of the room. There was a lone table there that still had all four legs, and more importantly, was still standing on them. The inebriated crowd seemed to be staying out of this area, so she thought she might get to eat her meal in relative peace. Ignoring the man slumped over a potted plant next to her she dug into her food with gusto. The soup really wasn't that bad, for all she couldn't tell what it was made from.

The rum, on the other hand, was a surprise. She hadn't had anything stronger then wine since her return to civilization, but she hadn't thought she missed it. But as soon as the familiar flavor hit her mouth, and as soon as it burned down her throat, spreading all the way to her finger tips, she would almost have sworn she had. Looking around the crazy room, she realized no, she hadn't missed it, maybe just the false comfort it provided. Although she could have used some of that comfort the last few days. She set the mug back down and didn't pick it up again.

As she rose to return to her room, the drunk man with the plant started muttering, and it froze Elizabeth in her tracks.

"And then they made me their chief," he slurred, apparently to the plant. Elizabeth turned slowly around, and wondered why he hadn't recognized that unruly mop of hair before.

"Jack?" she asked tentatively. The drunk jerked.

"Oh, so you do speak. I thought maybe you was one of those mute types…not that I'd minded, best listener I've ever met," he said, leaning in closer to the plant.

"Jack Sparrow!" Elizabeth said again, more loudly and with undeniable excitement in her voice. Had she received her miracle?

"Captain! Captain Jack Sparrow, love," he said as he tried to turn around while sitting. The plant hit him right in the face. "oh, where'd that come from." He noticed Elizabeth standing there, but didn't recognize her. "Did you see a girl here a few seconds ago? Real quiet, wherein green, skinny, real twig of a thing… a well, wa's your name?" he asked, somehow recognizing she was a woman despite her disguise. Probably a sixth sense or something. He tried to get up, and fell right back on his butt.

"Jack, it's me, it's Elizabeth," she said, still excited, helping him to his feet. She let go of him when he was standing, only to have him start swaying. She caught him just before he fell into her.

"Oh, Jack, how much have you had to drink?" she asked, her face falling along with her mood. She needed his help and he was drunk out of his mind. Typical. It was a vile drink, and one he never seemed to be without.

"I've only had ton or wooOO-" he said as he began to fall over again.

"Only one or two bottles probably. Jack! I think you've had enough." She told him.

"Enough? Never darling, I'm only gonna have one more," he slurred, stumbling over again.

"Alright, I'm getting you out of here before you hurt yourself," she said as she caught him. He squinted at her drunkenly, really seeing her for the first time. His eyes widened in disbelief.

"Blimey, maybe I have had too much…" he said, and then proceeded to pass out. She once again caught him as he fell into her. Wrapping one arm around her neck, she hoisted him up and began dragging him up to her room. Only in Tortuga could someone drag a lifeless body into a strange room and nobody think there was anything odd about it, she thought as she struggled to unlock the door. Once inside, she kicked the door shut and dropped Jack on the bed. She curled up on the floor herself, the bed looking even less inviting then it did an hour ago, and futilely waited for sleep to find her.