AN: Hello to all! Thank you again to the few reviewers I have...you are my heroes.

Speaking of reviewers, one of you mentioned something about Lynn's beauty compared to the standards of then...something to that effect. Anyway, you were pretty much right; Lynn's "beauty problem" isn't so much that she is ugly, but that for her status (of which she is pretty high class. Her father was a successful merchant after all) she is not anything much to look at. My attempts were not to make her hideous, but awkward. Tall, dark hair, tan skin...all these things were not exactly desirable (okay, I'm not really sure about the dark hair, but I did make her sisters blonde, and who do doesn't like blondes?). Anyway, I hope that gives you a clearer picture of what Lynn really is like (but, may I reiterate, she is NOT drop-dead gorgeous), not what Lynn percieves herself as.

Enjoy.

Though it had been explicitly against Jack's orders, Lynn had put her hair in a bun once again. Honestly, an order for hair arrangement? Absurd.

Afterall, as she had mentioned, it was much more practical than leaving it down, for it did get in her way. While Delilah had constantly suggested she cut it shorter, it was something Lynn refused to do. Her hair, her thick, gorgeous black hair, was, in Lynn's eyes, her one redeeming quality. Though she hardly flaunted it, her hair was not something she was willing to give up. This resulted in hair that was, in length, just past her waist. Only she out of the three sisters had ever been able to achieve this length, a fact she was extremely proud of.

However, it did cause numerous problems, and seeing that she was once again cooking, Lynn was in fear that it would fall into the meal. Even if the crew did not care, she saw such carelessness as a blow to the quality of her work, something Lynn was not willing to risk. Not if Jack could cause a ruckus over it.

So she stood, stirring the great pot of stew, watching as men came into the galley, wet and worn, for a light drizzle had begun above deck. Lynn had not been able to see many of them clearly this morning, and she studied them with interest as they came to her, bowls in hand. Many simply gave a thankful smile and sat down, though there were a few that sent her a look less than respectable. All in all, Lynn judged she could manage them for the next few days.

"'Ello, Miss Ramsey," muttered a large man with a friendly smile. "I'd be Mr. Gibbs, first mate of the Captain."

"Pleasure to meet you, Gibbs," answered Lucy, her shy, almost nonexistent smile becoming slightly wider.

He sniffed at the steam coming off of the bowl. "Ahh…that smells divine. I've been wantin' a good cook for awhile. Cotton is a fine fellow," he motioned to a man with a parrot on his shoulder, "but his skills with food could be better. He's thankful for your taking over as well."

Lynn watched Cotton curiously, noticing how he silently ate though the men around him were laughing uproariously about something. "Doesn't seem like a very talkative fellow."

Gibbs smiled and shrugged. "Well, you see, he can't. His tongue was cut out, poor devil."

"Then how do you know he's thankful?"

"His parrot told us."

Lynn stared at Gibbs blankly, then closed her eyes. "His parrot told you?"

"Yes, that's about it."

Lynn nodded in response, but did nothing more.

"I'll be seeing you around, Miss Ramsey," finished Gibbs, taking another sniff of the stew, completely oblivious to Lynn's discomfited look at the parrot. She did not enjoy birds of any type. And she found the fact that the men listened to it, on behalf of one of their own, somewhat odd.

The few men behind Gibbs smiled in relief as he finally left and sat down, and then crowded around the pot, desperate to get some of her stew, leaving Lynn to stand there with an expression of slight disgust at the pushing and shoving before her. She had not grown up with men in the house, and therefore was accustomed to better manners than was being portrayed here. The few days she was going to be on the ship were going to be long, even if not dangerous.

Finally, Jack came sauntering down the stairs, dripping with rainwater while smiling triumphantly. Then again, he always seemed to have worn that smile.

It lasted until he came up for his share of the dinner, when he noticed the bun again. Sighing, and eyes flashing dangerously, he set his bowl down and faced Lynn, who had backed up against the counter, spoon in front of her as a weak defense, but otherwise firm and straight.

"We have already discussed this, Lillian," said Jack, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Lynn crossed her arms and cocked her head. "It's my hair. What does that matter to you?"

"A great deal, actually."

"I put it in a bun, Captain, because I did not want it to get into the stew. Unless you would have preferred to eat it. Which I can, of course, arrange."

"Let me explain," began Jack, placing his hands on the counter on either side of Lynn, "how a ship functions. There is the crew, a sturdy band of hard, diligent workers." At the comment, every man in the galley cheered heartily. "This crew is under the direction of me. The captain. I give orders, they do them. No questions. Now, when a man does question my orders, or refuses to execute them, there is a punishment."

"I am, one, not a man," countered Lynn, daintily pushing Jack away from her. "And two, not part of your crew. I am your ransom. Have you already forgotten that?"

"Exactly!" exclaimed Jack, making her jump in surprise. "You are my ransom. And you are under my complete control to do whatever I want with. And at the moment, I want your hair out of that hideous bun." Grabbing the ribbon that held it in place, Jack yanked it off, causing her hair to tumble down in a black waterfall.

Lynn scowled and snatched at the ribbon, but missing it when Jack pulled away. "Jack, this is childish. We are talking about my hair. And even if I am your ransom, I'd hardly call that a reason for ordering me around."

"No, we are talking about control, not hair. I have control; you don't. I intend to teach you that lesson as quickly as possible." He waved the ribbon rudely in front of Lynn's face.

"What makes you think that I need to have a lesson on control?" spat Lynn, grabbing again for her ribbon unsuccessfully.

"Let me explain something about you," began Jack, stepping away from her and her wild hand movement toward her ribbon. "You like to have power over your own situations."

"I already was aware that you were an observant man, Jack," answered Lynn, crossing her arms in frustration. "Tell me something I don't know. Like why you are being so pigheaded about this matter." While this statement was said in relevant calm, inside Lynn was fuming, wanting nothing more than to punch this man's eyes out. But she wasn't going to do that.

"Life does not always let you have control over your own fate," he continued, his voice mocking that of a pious priest. "You, who has lived a life of comfort, probably are not aware of this fact."

She threw her hands up in the air, for a split second loosing her temper, then just as quickly regaining it again and stuffing it behind a disgusted stare and tight lips. "So that's why you kidnapped me: so I can learn that I can't actually control my own destiny. Jacob Price, you know I have considered you a fool in the past, but this cements it. Not only are you a fool, but brainless git."

For a long moment, the two people glowered at each other, much like they had as children; Jacob standing there smugly, head reared in arrogance, and Lynn facing him with crossed arms, a cocked head, and burning holes into his face with her scowl.

"I see that bun one more time, Lillian, and I'll just chop all of your hair off," muttered Jack, throwing her the ribbon. "And it's not Jacob anymore."

"It's Lynn," she answered softly, taking the ribbon and tying her hair into a loose ponytail. "Not Lillian."

He looked at her a moment before smiling. "Lynn. The name does suit you."

"That was a pitiful attempt at a compliment, Jack," she said, turning back to the stew to pour some for herself.

"I don't bother trying to compliment you, Lynn. It's generally a waste of breath," he countered quickly, if not a little rashly, waltzing past her.

Lynn looked down at her hands, worn and calloused from being out at sea so much. Hardly lady hands. Though she hid it on her face, that comment hurt badly, reminding her of her previous ponderings.

There didn't seem to be much about her to compliment on anyway.

But she didn't hide enough of her thoughts, and Jack looked back just in time to see a pained look flit across Lynn's face before it was wiped away by a stony mask. And for a brief moment, he felt a strong sense of guilt and shame.

Lynn sat on her bunk, clutching her legs securely. She couldn't get rid of Jack's harsh remark, which kept repeating over and over in her head. Obviously, many people didn't think that she was ugly…but most people she knew were women, who would never be, lets say, romantically interested in her. But men…what were they thinking? Especially compared to her sisters?

And there was one questioned that refused to leave her mind: was she really that ugly?

It took a long time for Lynn to finally drop off to sleep, something that rarely happened.

Jack spun a coin across the desk, staring vacantly at the map placed there.

So, he had been a bit of a monster during dinner. Playing through the events in his mind's eye, he cringed slightly. So, he had been a big monster.

Why had he been so persistent about Lynn's hair? It was hardly about control; that was just an excuse, one he was surprised she had believed. What was the real reason?

The only thing he could come up with was he was…scared. Jack had no idea how to handle this new Lynn; who was definitely not a Lillian. By hiding behind something as simple and infantile as hair, he could, for a moment, pretend he knew how to handle her. If there was one thing that bugged Jack more than anything, it was unfamiliar territory, though he could always manage himself despite it. That was the sole reason he was still alive and kicking.

But this security had had a large price, and Lynn's expression appeared in his mind again. No, she had grown up, and no longer held a child's juvenile thoughts. He was dealing with a grown women's feelings, ones he knew ran deeper than he could possibly imagine. Feelings he was not entirely willing to mess with.

Sighing, he stretched and laid down in his bed. There was only two more days until they reached Antigua, and he could be rid of Lynn, and whatever problems she might hold.

As he closed his eyes, Jack let the actions of dinner go through his mind one last time, stopping suddenly as he saw Lynn's hair falling gracefully from her bun, a sheet of black. Even if she were to put it up in that hideous contraption again, Jack doubted he could ever bring himself to cut it all off…

Lynn stood once again at the helm, leaning against the railing, her arms wrapped around her tightly as she hugged the coat she wore, for it was chilly with a strong breeze, but it wasn't the only reason. She had been able to get only a few hours of sleep, and already Lynn was feeling the effects. Clutching the coat tighter, she shivered slightly, looking down at her bare legs; this morning she had been too lazy to put her dress on, leaving only her chemise and night dress. Lynn would do it later, before the crew awoke.

Her hair whipped around her face rebelliously, like a shadow of a large flag. While she doubted Jack would actually cut all her hair off, Lynn did not want to risk it, and therefore now let it go free, flowing flawlessly with the wind.

It was ridiculous, to be so concerned with her looks. People had hardly ever mentioned it before, and, after a good thirty or so minutes of determined convincing, Lynn decided she wasn't ugly at all, just lacking what her sisters had an abundance of. There were plenty of women in this predicament.

Though, she doubted they had to deal with an unrelentingly patronizing pirate captain who couldn't seem to find the decency to keep his trap shut.

And there he was, walking up the stairs toward her. Biting her lip, Lynn looked away toward the rising sun and pulling the coat tighter around her.

She could feel him come up behind her, standing there silently. There was no point in looking back at him, so she stood there rigidly, refusing to recognize his presence.

Then, so softly Lynn wasn't sure if it was actually happening, she felt a hand on her hair, touching it carefully. She held still for a brief moment, taking a split second to savor the feeling, before coming back to reality and spinning around. "What are you doing?"

Jack looked back innocently, a guilty grin playing on his face. "You look your age when your hair is down."

Lynn rolled her eyes before turning away, Jack coming up to lean next to her, reaching out again to stroke her hair. She debated whether to bother swatting his hand away or not, finally deciding the attempt would be utterly fruitless. So she stood there, shamefully enjoying the feeling.

"Your hair is beautiful," he muttered. "I can't believe you've dared hide it in a bun all these years."

"There you go, wasting your breath again," said Lynn sharply, moving away. Jack followed, taking a fistful of her locks and rubbing them between his fingers. "Stop it."

"There you go, ruining a perfectly good, intimate moment. Your abilities are outstanding." He didn't stop, and Lynn brought her hand up to remove his own, but he caught before she could do anything. "Your hair is beautiful, Lynn."

"And why would I believe you?"

"Why would I bother lying about your hair?" Lynn looked up at him, mouth open for a retort, but she could find none. Jack was looking at her intently, his dark eyes studying her expression with interest. She looked away shyly, something she hardly ever felt.

They stood there quietly, letting the sun rise elegantly, its rays washing over them, bring warmth, and as always, reality. Jack, after running his fingers through her hair one more time, stopped and stood up straight. "You should probably start breakfast now, before the men become hungry."

"Oh, yes," gasped Lynn, annoyed at herself for forgetting. "I should have gone earlier."

She started toward the steps, but Jack grabbed her shoulder, making her face him. "One more thing, Lillian. You might want to get dressed properly." He looked openly and suggestively over her nightdress, still hidden under the coat.

Lynn could feel herself flushing deeply, utterly embarrassed at failing to remember what she was in. "You're…despicable," she spat. "Why didn't you remind me that I was dressed in practically nothing? Any decent man would have."

Jack grinned wickedly. "Because I never miss a chance at seeing any women dressed in next to nothing, even if it is just a stubborn, bullheaded maid."

At this point, Lynn wanted nothing more than to slap him silly at the licentious remark, but instead clung to her coat defensively, walking away amidst his irreverent chuckles. This man could seem to come up with nothing but appalling comments.

It was a quick meal Lynn threw together. After first dressing into her dress, she chased the ship chickens away from their coop, collecting the eggs before the rooster attacked her.

As the night before, the men, now much more energized and rambunctious, were grateful for the good food. Mr. Gibbs gave her a friendly smile, complimenting her profusely on her abilities. Lynn wondered whether this outpouring of gratitude had to do with her conversation with Jack the night before, one the crew no doubt had heard in full volume. And despite their rough appearance, she couldn't help but feel a certain fondness toward them at the thought.

Last to arrive was Jack. He came toward her and winked knowingly, causing Lynn to blush again, along with a tempting thought to throw raw eggs in his face.

"By the way, Lynn," he said, stopping mid stride, "I came up with a punishment for last night." He said it loud enough that the crew all turned to watch.

Lynn stopped flipping an egg to look at him. "Punishment for what? I swear, if this has to do with my hair--"

"You knew you weren't suppose to have put it in a bun. And, as captain, it is my duty to punish you," Jack came up, his grin conniving as he added in a whisper, "no matter how gorgeous your hair is."

Lynn locked eyes with him, intent on glaring daggers so sharp as to cut his eyes out. "I doubt I would be of any use for any chore other than what I am doing," she finally said. "And I am certainly not part of your crew. You kidnapped me, remember?"

"And I am now taking you peacefully to your desired destination, therefore nullifying any ransom intended. You didn't actually think I'd let you sail for free?" Jack smirked evilly. "After all, you mentioned that my cabin needed a maid."

Lynn's eyes grew wide in protest, but Jack stopped any retort by placing his finger on her lips. "You can start this morning; cooking duties are suspended."

"I cannot believe--"

"Start believing, luv." He smiled again, this time wider, and pinched her cheek.

Jack strutted away, leaving Lynn standing there with a stoney face. Closing her eyes, she flipped another egg, splattering yoke across the area from the force.

Only a day or so more and she could leave.