Disclaimer: These characters sail under the Disney flag and wear the Disney brand, bless their poor hearts.

A/N: A longish chapter. Enjoy.

Chapter 6

As he sat at a table with Barbossa to his left, Will on his right, and Elizabeth sandwiched between the two of them, Gibbs thought that never in his life had he been in such an uncomfortable social situation. He tried his best to hide his unease, but the way he shifted his eyes about gave away the fact, to the amusement of his companions. Whatever animosities may have existed amongst the crew, no one ever seemed to have one with him; it was almost as if he were the voice of reason at times, it seemed to be his gift. A gift, that at the moment, he probably wished he didn't posses, but the purpose of retrieving his friend and captain outweighed the awkwardness that he was forced to endure. He sighed and ran a hand over his head, yet another telltale sign of his discomfort.

"You wanted to discuss something with us, Cap'n?"

"Hm? Yes, that I did", answered Barbossa hastily, trying to repress a smile. Gibbs' fidgeting had been entertaining; he so enjoyed it when others squirmed. It wasn't necessarily out of mean-spiritedness, it just gave him irrepressible sportsmanlike delight, whether the person was an adversary or not. He mentally rebuked himself; now was not the time to be getting lost in petty thought.

"The lady's sailing talents have progressed in leaps and bounds", he said, gesturing towards Elizabeth with a courteous smile; she suppressed a smug grin. He shot her a sideways glance. "Aside from the cannonball you dropped on my foot, that is." She bit her lip. That had been one occasion in which he'd had every right to lose his temper. He was still trying to figure out if it had been an honest accident.

"Aye, indeed they have!" said Gibbs with much enthusiasm, once again playing the role of peacemaker. Will merely raised his eyebrows; he found himself growing quickly disinterested in what seemed to be pointless blathering. Barbossa's gift of intuition urged him to bring matters back into focus.

"Gents, I only hope you trust 'er. For a fleeting time, she and I will be the only ones capable of keeping our heads, so I'll be needin' your cooperation." Silence and furrowed brows from Will and Gibbs was the response that he received. "Before ye ask me why, I'll just be blunt about it. You boys familiar with sirens?" Gibbs nodded; his heart had promptly leapt into his throat at the mention of them. Had he been asked the same question a year prior, Will would have been painfully skeptical of the idea. Having been assailed upon by the living dead, served time in oceanic Hell, and escaped a leviathan by the skin of his teeth, he knew better now.

"Sirens", he repeated with a sigh. "And what are we to do about said creatures?"

"Same as Odysseus", Barbossa smiled. "Stuff our ears and run like hell."

-

Barbossa felt slightly disturbed, but not in the least bit surprised by the level of excitement that had arisen amongst the crew not long after. He only hoped they'd be fairly cooperative about the whole situation and not try anything that would be, as Jack would have said, incredibly stupid. He kept a particularly sharp eye on Turner, who still managed to cause him the slightest bit of unease, though he was unable to pinpoint exactly why. He was certainly a valuable commodity to have aboard, but was developing the ability to use his wits at an alarming pace, which could prove to be either very useful or absolutely disastrous. The events to take place in the following days would have to be the judge of that.

It grew increasingly colder as the days passed, and though the wind didn't seem to put a great effort into chilling inanimate objects, there was hardly a place could be found where one could keep their teeth from chattering. Some received coldness in a form besides that of the physical, as Elizabeth soon learned. On a night when flecks of white could be seen flitting now and then in the unforgiving wind, she'd felt particularly girlish and couldn't help but notice how strikingly attractive Will appeared at the moment, with unkempt hair blowing recklessly across his face; it was decidedly a good moment to meander over and snake her arms about him before placing a gentle kiss to his icy lips. Even with her eyes closed, she got the distinct impression that something wasn't right. She looked up to find him flatly unresponsive, rigid even. He seemed to be having a moment of indecision. His apparent way of recovering from it was by resolutely pushing her arms from around his body and stepping back a pace. One might have thought she'd at least look a little bit hurt, but the expression on her face was one of reluctant understanding, and they both seemed saddened by it in their own quiet ways. Not a word exchanged, but so much said. And so they parted ways for the evening, both feeling a bit bad about the situation but neither one really seeing a way around it. She'd walked away with every intention of entering her cabin to seek out what little warmth it had to offer, but somehow ended up sitting at the bottom of the stairway, to be once again discovered and to reluctantly enjoy the unwelcome company. There wasn't even the weak excuse that she sat with him because he had wine to offer this time, only a way of avoiding solitude and loneliness for a bit longer. Truce or not, she knew it should have bothered her to be in the company of a shameless criminal, one whom she'd been captive to, no less. And yet it seemed he was the only one aboard who understood her. She nearly laughed aloud at how preposterous that thought had sounded in her head. 'As if he could possibly . . .' she rolled her eyes. There was no point in trying to make sense of it all, and it seemed much easier to simply let come what may and accept it, despite what oddities came along with it. And what had come at the moment was the two of them sitting on a stairway, oblivious to their past animosities. After a while, she broke the silence, daring to ask the question that had bothered her since he'd shared his plans with Will and Gibbs.

"Captain?" she inquired. "Why is it that only you and I will be able to 'keep our heads', as you say, in the presence of these wonderful little obstacles you speak of?"

He shrugged. "I've been through this with ye before. Their song is enough to beckon the most hard-set sailor to lose his mind and set a heading for disaster."

"That still leaves me with the question of how you and I are exempt."

"Women, Miss Swann, are exempt from such enchantments", he smiled.

"In that case, you are positively the ugliest woman I've ever laid eyes on", she said with a teasing smile. He cast her a disapproving glance.

"None o' yer cheek now", he rebuked with a smirk. "They've not much desire for me; I've already been to Hell twice. There'd be no charm in a third time, either. 'Twould be futile for 'em, really." He spoke with his usual haughtiness, but his face gave away the slightest hint of doubt, and she made a note to herself to keep a sharp eye, nonetheless. Her experiences with pirate captains had taught her that they thought and made more of themselves than there really was to be had. She'd already brought up the question of why they couldn't simply sail around the sirens, and was met with the morbid reply that he was choosing the lesser of the awaiting evils. She was roused from her thoughts by a stiff wind that pushed towards them, sending a good deal of icy spindrift swirling into their faces. Throughout the voyage, he'd almost seemed to be embracing the cold just for the sake of feeling it, yet now, even this was a bit much. He promptly stood, taking her by the elbow and pulling her to her feet; she held a hand over her eyes to shield them from the wind and snow. Having spent the better part of her life in the Caribbean, she was unused to the harsh arctic elements, and despite his coarse demeanor, he also at times possessed the same chivalrous characteristics as Will. She seemed a bit flustered and annoyed with him; he'd instinctively shielded her from the cold with his body as he escorted her to the door.

"Captain, I assure you that's not necessary", she said, trying to hide her uneasiness and demurely removing herself from his grasp. She was slightly perplexed as to why she felt so uneasy; he at least wasn't threatening her with something sharp or pointing pistols in her direction. And she'd come out of even those instances relatively unharmed. He now regarded her with a cocky, somewhat injured smile.

"Perhaps not", he admitted, eyes narrowing. "But I was a gentleman once, Miss. Some habits never die."

"I have a difficult time imagining someone with your vocabulary and table manners to have ever been a gentleman", she said with a smirk.

"Ha! And it could also be said that you look nothing like a governor's daughter, not at the moment, anyhow."

"Fine", she rolled her eyes as she hugged herself tightly and shivered.

That leer. There it was, trying to surface again, yet for some reason he wouldn't allow it. Not completely, anyways. His look was one of sincere amusement, but it always lingered in his eyes just a bit, and now and then tugged at the corners of his mouth. He couldn't help but notice that she once again seemed a bit vulnerable and leering at her made him feel slightly like a dirty old cad, something that he oddly no longer wanted associated with his reputation.

"Yer deeds gonna catch up wit' you one day, Captain. Yer not as invincible as you like to tink."

So Tia had warned him. He'd bristled at her, only to have her roll her eyes at him and walk away with a smile. He and Jack had always come to her in times of distress, yet never seemed to heed a word she said. They were the absolute bane of her existence, but she still looked forward to the times when they'd come knocking on her door.

He sighed, still not willing to admit that she was absolutely right. He noticed now that they'd been sailing past unusually shaped bergs for some time. He turned to Elizabeth once more.

"Best get yer rest. Tomorrow's gonna be an interesting day."

"Tomorrow?" she asked solemnly.

He nodded regrettably before tipping his hat to bid her goodnight and retiring to bed for the evening. Neither would sleep well.

-

"Will? Will, did you-"

"Yes, all carried out, as the Captain ordered. The crew can't hear worth a mite. All that's left to do now is wait then, I suppose."

Elizabeth didn't like the way he only half paid attention to what he was doing and saying that morning. He seemed to be rather distracted and lost in his own adventurous thoughts, as if he were plotting or anticipating some great and wonderful event, when everyone else was unsure if they would even survive another hour. Gibbs had said nothing to anyone about the odd look he'd seen in Will's eyes as of late, but it was becoming plain to Elizabeth that her fiancé was growing into a bit of a madman. Did it really matter, seeing as how they all had to be a bit mad to be sailing to World's End, whatever that was, and rescuing someone who was undeniably and in every sense of the word, dead? Perhaps, and perhaps not. Then again, maybe he always had been mad and just never showed it. Even more disturbing was the fact that she relied on Barbossa's supposed sanity to keep Will in his place. She shook her head, exasperated at the chaos of it all as the Captain approached them.

"Not quite, boy. Perhaps I wasn't clear; you're not above those orders anymore than anyone else. So I'm askin' ye now to kindly plug yer ears."

Will shook his head with a wicked and resolute smile. "No." He was met with an icy glare.

"'No'?" Captain Barbossa was unused to being told such and fought the urge to grab Will by his collar, managing to maintain a collected demeanor.

"Aye", said Will, the wild look never leaving his eyes. "I want to hear them."

Elizabeth's jaw dropped and she simultaneously went bug-eyed. She had meant to protest but didn't have a chance, the captain had already given his answer.

"You sure about that, Turner?"

"Never been so sure in my life, Captain", he smiled.

Barbossa nodded solemnly. "Very well, then. Elizabeth, go get me some rope."

"Rope?" Will asked.

Barbossa had to smile. There was still some naivety about Will Turner that would have to be pruned from him, if he were ever to make it safely to old age.

"Of course. Ye don't think I'm about to let you run about unrestrained and open-eared, do ya?" He smiled with satisfaction at the look on Will's face.

'You sure as hell better look sheepish after a stupid question like that', he thought to himself.

Elizabeth promptly returned, a coil of rope in hand; she looked considerably paler than she had a moment ago. He nearly asked her if she'd care to do the honors of securing Will to the mast, but thought better of it at the last moment, instead genteelly taking the rope from her. She knew she should have found an excuse to busy herself with something else instead of watching, but found herself fixated on the two of them. Will seemed unfazed for the experience of being tied in several different places by a man who had once tried to kill him, only standing there with eager anticipation written all over his face. The scenario had made Elizabeth feel somewhat uneasy, but she lost control of herself when she caught sight of his hands being brought behind his back and tied. She promptly raced to the nearest railing and was sick. She was still suffering from dry heaves when she was discovered by Barbossa. They didn't speak, but then, words weren't always needed. Of course this wasn't a mockery of what she'd done to Jack and confided in him, albeit while slightly drunk, and of course she knew that it was for Will's own good and not for harm. Nonetheless, the stern reassurance was there to remind her of the fact, and also to remind her that she was responsible for half of today's command. Shakily, she took hold of his arm for support as she stood straight again. She might have taken the time to stare pitifully at Will in his willingly incapacitated state, but was distracted from doing so by one of the most horrendous noises she'd ever heard in her life.

Barbossa immediately turned and headed for the helm, she followed, still using his arm for support. He hastily stood her before the wheel before turning to keep a close watch on the rest of his crew, lest any of them had decided to baulk at their orders. He'd half counted on Will to be the silent voice of reason among them, but seeing as how the boy wanted to try his luck with temptation, they'd have to do without him. A course of action had already been laid out and was sworn to be followed or else be rewarded for their failure to follow orders with keelhauling. Barbossa felt a familiar sense of foreboding as they drew closer to the offending noise. It neither beckoned nor repulsed him, but settled somewhere between the two. He stood with his sword drawn, as a warning to anyone who might have been enticed by the appearance of them alone. Will's first comments on the singing made Barbossa wish that the Orpheus was equipped with sweeps. He sighed regrettably.

"God, it's beautiful. . ."

It would have been nice if that were the extent of William's fit, but as always, they wouldn't be permitted to get off quite that easily. After several enthusiastic minutes of praise from Mr. Turner, one could see in the distance a rock with several figures seated upon it, and every minute, the ship drew closer to it. The sound was blood curdling and not appealing in the least to Elizabeth, who thought she might be sick again as it grew louder and reverberated through her aching head. She wished now that she'd been permitted to use something to dull her hearing as she tried her best to hold a hand over one ear and still keep a grip on the wheel, unable to contain the gurgling whimpers that yearned to escape her. A hand was laid on her shoulder and she turned to find Cotton standing behind her. He gestured for her to step aside, he'd apparently been ordered to take her place. She left the helm, clamping her hands tightly over her ears and standing alongside Barbossa. In the same moment, Will had taken to increasing the volume of what had escalated into a tantrum.

"Let me go! Barbossa! Bloody hell would you at least look at me you belligerent old bastard!" Barbossa acted as if he heard nothing, which further enraged the willing captive. "I have to be set free, I must go to them. I'll die. . . Elizabeth! Your sword, cut me loose! It's my destiny, I was meant to do this! Please, you must understand! Elizabeth!" She could only look at him in bewilderment before turning away.

While certainly eerie, no one would ever deny that the sight of the sirens had been magnificent, to say the least. Many sailors had decided to get an eyeful; despite the beautiful beings being tainted with deadly temptation, for they also had nothing with which to hide their feminine attributes. 'Evilly winsome' was the term that Gibbs would use years later, and it caught on with most of the crew afterwards as well. Elizabeth thought that 'repulsive' was a far more fitting word to describe them; Barbossa and Will never said anything, always going silent and solemn at the mention of them.

Most fascinating to look at, the upper body resembling that of a woman, save for the unnaturally bright eyes, and below the waist, bright plumage that was unlike anything of the world, but never in the least detracting from their carnal appeal. And Will felt that they were calling for him alone, they assured him that no one else dare approach them, that they'd give in to every whim and fancy and burning desire that he'd be ashamed to confide in anyone but himself. Or would have been. He let loose with language that not even Barbossa would have expected from the son of Bootstrap Bill, leaving both Elizabeth and the captain taken slightly aback as he continued demanding that he be freed and allowed to 'decide his own fate'. The foolish rampage was at it's worst as they passed by the terrible beings, and gradually declined to enraged howling as they passed and he slowly came to grips with the fact that no one was about to cut him loose and allow him to jump to his own demise, though he still struggled and writhed against his bonds in fervent denial. In the end, it had gone fairly well, though Will wished he hadn't behaved so unbecomingly in front of Elizabeth; he rued it long afterwards, but if given the opportunity again, probably still wouldn't have changed a thing.

Once the perilous seat of the sirens had been clean out of sight for a good hour, Barbossa wordlessly walked over to the mast and unloosed the equally silent Will Turner, who met his captain dead in the eye for a quick moment before disappearing below deck. He reemerged for a while for their celebratory keg party later that night. It seemed no one realized just how great a danger they'd been in until after it had passed and they had had time to think it over. This caused everyone to become a bit giddy with relief, and even Barbossa seemed to be in unusually good spirits, though he remained fairly quiet. Let the men be giddy and get a little bit drunk, God knew they had certainly earned it. A few sheets to the wind also meant distraction from other things, more that likely; no one noticed their captain slyly stealing away to have a word with his student and honorary first mate. He was mildly disturbed by her lackluster appearance, it was a stark contrast to her usual spitfire temperament. She gave him a sidelong glance.

"I'm sorry, Captain", she stuttered. He furrowed his brow in response.

"Fer what?" he asked quietly.

"I'm afraid I wasn't of much use today, unless there was some point in me whimpering like a child during a storm."

"An ounce of prevention, Miss Swann." He narrowed his eyes, adding, "And lies don't become you."

She dropped her gaze to the deck. There had been that uncertain moment, when there seemed to be some inner battle waging within him as she had stood at his side, and for a split second, he had jerked forward the slightest little bit, longing apparent in his eyes as he surveyed the demonic seductresses from his place on deck. Whether or not he actually would have gone further would never be known, but someone had caught him by the arm in that split second, snapping him back into reality where he no longer heard the beckoning and promises of unending lustful pleasures, but the entirely unbecoming and degrading wails of someone who had been stupid enough to wish this upon himself and be roped to the mast like a lunatic. A reality where he was captain of a ship and leading a crew that for the most part, trusted him and would wait for his next command. A reality where a frightened woman less than half his age clung to the sleeve of his coat, and was not in the least bit thrilled about inheriting that captaincy from him. Undoubtedly an uncertain moment in which they'd both behaved rather uncharacteristically, but no one would ever know, and neither of them would admit it aloud, at least not tonight.

A/N: Thanks to all for being patient with me, I know it's been a while since I updated. I seem to have come down with a nasty cold and it took it's toll on me. I don't think this is one of my best chapters, but then again they say that you are your own worst critic. And yes, that's yet another deliberate LOST reference coming this time from the delectable Will Turner. I hope you liked the latest installment, and reviewers get a free bottle of my signature green apple wine!