AN: Sorry about the delay, I got into Pintel and Ragetti. I love those two, so I lost my grasp on
the Captain for awhile. He's a bit finicky like that. But I coaxed him to returned, we have to finish
this don't we?

Poem belongs to the wonderful Norah. The only one who I will write for.

Whispers
Part 4: Speaking to the Atmosphere
-------------

Amiee laid awake that night staring at the darken ceiling above her. It had been a confusing day.
Never before had she met so many whisperers in one setting. It thrilled her, yet it caused some
trepidation to set in.

She knew that Lene was having problems sleeping too, for the sounds of someone moving about
down in the painting room reached her ears.

She too, was resisting the urge to get out of bed and write down on the nearest bit of parchment.
But she was trying to exhibit some self-control and not let the whispers take over.

(horizon)

No she would not give in. It was tiring how these thoughts, these feelings sometimes took over
her mind and her life. It made her grow sick. But she couldn't hide. She couldn't close her eyes
without these words flowing behind her eyelids.

By her side, her hand twitched unconsciously for the nearest quill. Resolutely she remained in bed,
staring.

(...the black pearl, mate...)

Flinging an arm over her eyes, she rolled over and tried to force herself into slumber. But to no
avail. Sighing out loud, she gave in to let the words whisper to her under the cover of darkness.

(...old...)

(...feels old...)

(...smells old...)

What feels, smells old? She wondered to herself. She knew that her whispers were more verbal,
than Lene's. While Lene received her whispers more often in images, she could hear words,
thoughts, snippets of conversations that never made sense, or finished.

(it's not like i don't want to help you, love, but we don't have any right...)

(...but there's something there!)

(...someone...)

Amiee twisted and threw the sheets off of her, trying to stop the half heard conversation. Why
were they coming now? Why was her mind getting this assault?

(freedom)

(beautiful)

It was a losing battle, she realized. So with another heavy sigh she removed herself from the
twisted white sheets and padded over to the desk and the bottle of ink that she knew waited for
her. Not bothering to tie back her blond hair, she just resignedly reached for the quill that rested
next to her thick journal.

Words spilled forth as soon as she touched the sharp, ink coated tip to the blank page.

Someday I'll encounter him, when my apron is dirty and my fingers stained in ink
My hair an unruly mess; my cheeks daubed with paint
Yet he'll think I'm beautiful

Someday we'll talk together, and articulary will fail me;
Tether my fluent tongue inside my mouth
And still he'll love the words I manage to speak

Someday the speech will dissolve into a sigh; a shiver
I'll be ashamed to be virginal, white cheeks stained with red trepidation
He'll abandon the roughness and hold me as breakable porcelain

I'll wait for that day until the earth no longer turns
Because my world revolves around him

Re-reading what she had written, she tried to make sense what the words from her mind had
meant. It was a love poem, she knew that much. But what she didn't know was why out of all the
whispers she could have written, did she write one of love?

Most of the recent whispers had been foreboding and dark. But this one spoke of love and hope.

Understanding.

**~**

Lene threw down her brush in frustration. "Du bist mein Alptraum!" she hissed at the silent
canvas.

Dark, painted eyes stared back at her.

Collapsing to the floor, she stared back at the man in the picture. "Warum?" she asked. "Warum?
Was willst du? Wer bist du und was ist dein namen?"

But the picture never answered her.

**~**

Across town, Will Turner laid awake next to his sleeping wife. He was mulling over the events
that had transpired today. The idea that words that the mind unconsciously thought were
premonitions seemed silly, too absurd.

But he believed in them.

Could what the Admiral had said be true? Could the Black Pearl and her mad captain be returning
to Port Royal? Will dared himself to hope, just a little, that it were to be true Had to admit to
himself that he missed Jack. Elizabeth did too.

And to see him again would be wonderful, another adventure could be had. But something
seemed off about the whole situation. Something that the two women of the store weren't telling
them.

(...black pearl holds many secrets....)

Will caught that thought that rushed through his mind. Something about the Black Pearl having
secrets. But the though died and he struggled to remember the imprint that it left behind.

The whisper seemed not spoken in his own voice like most thoughts in his mind were, but in
another's.

(...forget, i'm captain jack sparrow, savvy?)

But he was new at this mind game. He couldn't place the voice to a name. Even though it
sounded so familiar.

"Who are you?" he asked to the silent darkness.

**~**

While Will, Lene, and Amiee were kept in the waking world, Elizabeth was in the world of
dreams.

(many people died here, many people stay here even after death)

Elizabeth could see disjointed images, in an order that made no sense. In the dreamy aura, she
tried to grasp each picture and embrace it.

(blood on wood)

(a hand reaching out of a grated hold)

(boots being tied to an iron cannon)

(child with dark eyes cowering in the darkness)

She twisted in her bed, trying to figure out what each of these images meant. The dream held her
down in away that not even the ropes Barbossa tied her with, did.

The pictures came faster.

(gray matter on a sail)

(lifeless eyes staring up at nothing)

(foamy pink water being scrubbed off a bloodstained deck)

(whispers of a terror unseen)

She woke up screaming.

---------------------------------
Translations (I hope they are correct, my German is getting rusty)

Du bist mein Alptraum! - You are my nightmare!
Warum? - Why?
Was willst du? - What do you want?
Wer bist du und was ist dein namen? - Who are you and what is your name?