Author's Note: Okay, so I realized after looking at this, that when the chapters posted, the format changed and so it reads awkwardly. There are supposed to be breaks where we jump from one character to another but that is supposed to be clearly delineated. Sorry for the confusion. Reviews would be greatly appreciated!

Elizabeth sat at the end of the long dining table in a beautiful plum colored dress. Her hair was gathered up prettily in a mass of ringlets nestled with ropes of pearls. Will sat at the other end of the table, fidgeting with his cravat and looking questioningly at her dress.

It was a rather large crowd there that night. Elizabeth had thrown a party to commemorate their new home, and it turned out rather well. Most of the aristocracy, if you could call them that, turned out to appreciate the home and the Commodore.

Elizabeth didn't know who suggested it, or even who had coordinated it but as it turned out her party transformed into a night of adulation of the departing Commodore. James would leave that morning for St. Kitts to face his court martial. She knew that her father had forbidden contact with that man, but he had to agree that it would be out of step with decorum to refuse. Secretly she had to admit that she was glad.

Elizabeth was almost positive that the rather prudish and appalled matrons of Port Royale had orchestrated this in an attempt to further shame her father and Will, but she would turn the dinner into an opportunity. Oh, how she hated the stares, the fixed glances, the hushed remarks. It was enough to drive a person mad. And it wasn't as if she didn't have enough to deal with. Since her father's maneuvering, Will had become even more detached, irritated, and a tinge cold. He stood there now, so stiff, so disposed to jump at the slightest inclination.

Someone started playing some waltzes and Elizabeth would have danced with him, but for the fact that he didn't know how. Nor did he know proper dinner etiquette or conversation. He wasn't acquainted with Voltaire, Rousseau or Locke. Will didn't know the subtle art of conversation, the playful banter. Elizabeth felt a pang of guilt and joined him at his side.

His face, which was a composed mask, split into a bashful smile as she laced her hand within his offered elbow. Will looked at his wife with such an open, questioning look that Elizabeth felt a blush creep up.

"Elizabeth," he asked quietly, hesitantly, "is this a sign?"

She smiled at him, trying to mask her confusion to a minimum.

"That dress, that's the dress from Barbossa, the one you wore on the Black Pearl."

Elizabeth's eyes widened at the realization of what the dress must mean to Will. She lowered her head and looked for some sort of escape.

Come now, Elizabeth, this is what you wanted after all. You have your dashing, caring, moral pirate/ rogue and all the "adventure" that comes with it. This is what you've always wanted, what you've immortalized since childhood. This is the path you chose.

Elizabeth smiled sweetly and caressed Will's hand.

Indeed this is where my heart, truly, lies.

The breeze was brisk and refreshing and Charlotte quickly threw open the shutters. She had suffered through another dinner that evening, thanks to that indomitable Mrs. Turner. Charlotte was rather proud of herself, as she had gone the entire evening without insulting a guest. Of course, it helped that Lieutenant Gillette talked with her frequently on the activities of the "cattle" as he called them. He was particularly horrified when one of the more desperate women started winking at him.

Chuckling to herself, she sat herself on the ledge of her window completely at ease. It was a beautiful night, a million little diamonds strewn upon a dark blue sky. The wind was beginning to blow in earnest, signaling an approaching storm.

Charlotte was beginning to see why James loved it so much there. When she had first come to the island, she was fully prepared to hate everyone and everything. But aside from the upper class there, the general attitude was the carefree, unrestrained type that Charlotte was looking for.

As for James, she mused, he certainly isn't what I expected.

She had expected some stiff, pompous sort of man, one that she was already predisposed to hate. But try as she might, it was a difficult task she had assigned herself to. The warm night air seemed to accentuate the fragrance of the local flowers outside her window, and the sound of the nearby crashing waves were wholly intoxicating and Charlotte soon found her eyelids growing heavy with sleep.

It was almost dawn when she heard him slowly shuffle to his door. Curious, Charlotte had cracked her door open to see and there he stood. His face was creased with worry as he studied a chart, the dark circles under light green eyes and it made him look far older than his 32 years. It was off set even more by his dark brown hair. He had been careless the past few weeks, and it had grown rather long. Once bereft of wig, James took on a new personality as Charlotte was soon discovering. He was more vocal, less restrained, even a bit boyish.

He startled, sensing rather than seeing her there and flashed a sheepish grin. "Just, ah, finishing some paper work."

She cleared her throat, "Might I ask what?"

Something in his expression changed, lightened just a little. His face split into a wide smile. "It's just some old crew rosters."

"Oh." She said quietly. Charlotte didn't know what she was expecting. Perhaps some monumental confession, some reason more tantalizing than crew rosters to keep him awake at such a late hour. But the moment was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He bid her good night and quietly clicked the door shut after him. She stood there a moment, staring at that great door.

He stood with his back to the door, and closed his eyes for just a moment. James had no idea what had just happened. He was so surprised at seeing her there that he did not think to question her about why she was up at that late hour.

Perhaps the oncoming storm woke her. I should go to her, make sure that she's alright.

James nodded at this thought and set his parchment down. He gathered his robe and quietly opened his door. Hesitantly he looked out in the open hall, as if he were hiding from something. James swiftly walked to her door, raised his fist to knock and paused.

Oh bollocks.

He took in a deep breath and raised his fist again, but something stopped him from knocking. James sighed heavily, and rested his head against the door. He listened for any sound in the room, any hint to coax him forward, but found none.

Wearily he trod back to his bed and was surprised and dismayed to see a few beams of sunlight already making their way through the clouds. It would be light soon, and with the light would come his departure for St. Kitts.