Another chapter for my lovely readers who - for some bizarre reason - stick by this fanfiction :)

We sailed for what felt like an eternity. Days went by, weeks, even, but I barely noticed. All I seemed to do was eat, sleep, and sail. The navigational charts we had somehow managed to attain were another big part of everyone's lives, as each of us had spent by now at least an hour each day pouring over it.

It was maddeningly recondite. No one made any sense of it. We spun the wheels over and over again, coming up empty and only managing to match up slivers of painted pictures on it. According to Tai Huang, it wasn't as accurate as modern charts, but it led to more places.

We reached some place where the air nipped at you in such a fashion that you were red as though pinched in that place. My hair was frozen in a permanent braid that could be undone but remained in three parts when separated. I still only wore my white cropped poets top that revealed my belly and the long scar that ran down it and my shorts and boots. Every night, I'd freeze under Ragetti's jacket.

I gingerly wrapped my thinly covered arms around my knees, placing my chin on the caps of them. My gaze was on the charts for the thousandth time as William spun them slowly, shaking violently. His eyebrows were lined with frost and his cheeks were the color of a cherry.

"Nothing here is set," he murmured. I watched his white breath swirl around before dissolving. The speaking tone wasn't a choice. No one was able to speak too loudly anymore, we were all too cold.

"Is that such a bad thing?" I proposed. He looked at me, a bit confused. "Modern maps made by 'geographers' lead to places known to man. This one lets you take off to someplace unknown. It'll help us. I'm sure of it."

He turned back to the circles and spun them slowly. I noticed words being formed and stopped him. "'Over the edge. Over again'," I repeated. He spun them again and new ones became whole at the bottom. "'Sunrise sets. Flash of green'."

I looked at him before rising, snatching the charts, and walking towards Barbossa at the head. I saw Elizabeth curled up under a thin, raggedy blanket as dark as my skin was pale. I tossed Barbossa the charts and said, "D'you care to interpret, captain?"

He opened them, read the words, and gazed at William with a look of earnest. I walked behind him and sat down to huddle under the rag with Elizabeth. She handed me a small folded paper with shaking fingers. I immediately recognized it as a letter from the chest James Norrington, Jack, her, and I had come across. The lovely wording on the cover read 'My Sweet Calypso'.

Trembling, I unfolded the cracked parchment and began to read, blocking out the background music of voices.

My Sea,

It is difficult. Being away from you like this is unbearable. My heart feels ready to plummet into the ocean, never to be heard from again. Then again, you would have it if it did.

Life on the sea is rough. The crew are hard-working, doing well enough. I often lock myself in my cabin and piteously scribble our letters to you, never sending them. They are worse than this, all mushy and loving. I know you detest that talk. Thus, why I haven't sent you them.

But I have to see you. I know I've years to go. I know my duty. I haven't forgotten. And my job has been fine. The souls I carriage to the other side are hard-working folk all worth their salt. But I need to see you. Hold you close. Love you.

Calypso, you are my everything. You hold the key to my life. You are and always will be the sea, the only thing I love and ever will love. I loved the sea before I met you. I love it more so know that I know it is you. You tantalize me so well, make me beg, and I adore every moment of our time together.

Take me back, Calypso. I wish to be with you. For more than twenty-four damned hours. That isn't enough. So much we could see, so much we could do. Why can't you come with me?

Love always from the Mediterranean Sea,

Davy Jones

I stared at the words again, completely in shock. This was beautiful. Slight drivel, perhaps, but every word had passion. Passion I knew not of. He loved her, once. Whether he still did, keeping his promise to her being 'the only thing he loves and ever will love', was beyond me.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Elizabeth sighed from beside me. I looked at her flawless face and saw she was smiling weakly. "I wish I could write like that."

"Be careful what you wish for, or you just might get it," I replied, leaning my head back onto the rail. She laughed a bit.

"You're one to talk." I looked at her oddly. "Come off it. I've read your work. It's much better than this nonsense Jones speaks of in his letters to Calypso."

I shook my head. "Don't kid yourself," I muttered bitterly. I tried to keep my gaze in front of me. "You have so much going on for you. Beauty. Health. A man who loves and respects you. A brain."

"All that may be true, but I haven't got half of the heart, character, soul that you do. And you are beautiful, Emberlynn. Don't forget that."

I looked into her eyes, not catching a hint of doubt. Tears threatened to spill over and I wrapped my freezing arms around her, pushing our cheeks together. She laughed again.

"You're odd, Emberlynn, I'll give you that. But you're perfect."

Elizabeth fell asleep early enough. Everyone else was finishing dinner and we were still huddling under the blanket when I felt her head loll to the side and her breathing even out. I tucked the sheet around her limp frame and walked off, no longer shivering.

Somehow, in only a few hours, we had descended from freezing point and were at a slightly warmer, more enjoyable climate. I smiled at the boys who were rinsing their dirty dishes with a filthy, grimy rag and boiled water. At least they attempted to be clean.

William was sitting at the other end of the ship. He looked drawn, tired, but in a different way from the rest of us. Almost emotionally.

"Alright there, Turner?" I asked quietly. He jumped a bit at the sound of my voice and smiled fleetingly before becoming quiet again. I made my way towards him, leaning against the rail and looking across the darkening sky.

"What's bothering you?" He didn't look at me. "Ever since we left Jack you've been unusually sullen. You haven't spoken to Elizabeth once in my memory."

He looked to his right, away from me, then hit his fist against he wood and turned so his back was towards the sea.

"Why would she need me when she's got Jack to rescue?" he asked with a bit of cruelty. I shrugged, repeating his motion of turning.

"Because she loves you."

"Don't bet on it."

I bored my eyes into his skull. "What makes you say that?"

"She kissed him. Just before we left the Pearl. I saw it," he said blatantly.

My body swelled with guilt. This wasn't about Elizabeth. Well, it was, but the blame was pushed on her, since we looked similar from the back. So he thought that it was Elizabeth who Jack had snogged so heavily.

I shook at the memory.

"You're positive it was Elizabeth?" I asked hopefully.

"Who else could it be?"

"Well, did you see her face?"

He shook his head. "No, just her…hair…" He trailed off, looking at me in a new light. His eyes fell upon my own tightly wound up locks that were only a hue lighter than Elizabeth's, though much longer. "Oh."

"Oh," I repeated, smiling ruefully. "Yes. Elizabeth did not kiss Jack."

"But you did."

I stared down at my shoes, trying not to remember the scene. It was burnt into the back of my mind, white-hot, still tender to the touch. Every time I looked at the bandage made of his shirt that was still on my arm, the tears threatened to spill over my eyelids. I could still taste him on my lips.

Rum and salty air.

"Yes," I breathed. "Yes, I did."

"Did you mind?" he asked, sceptical. I smiled a bit.

"I'd like to say yes," I slowly muttered. "But no."

He leaned against his arms, standing up and in front of me. He crossed his arms, scrutinizing me. I mocked him by doing the same movements.

"Do you love him?"

"That was blunt."

He chuckled. "You didn't answer the question. Which means you're avoiding it. Which means that you do."

"Now you sound like him," I snapped, beginning to walk away. He followed me closely, all the while trying to show himself.

"You compare others to him," he continued. "He's always on your mind. You're infatuated. Next you'll be interpreting him into your work, although I question why you do love him."

"I never said I loved him!" I nearly screamed. He smiled.

"Defending him, too."

I groaned and fell onto a crate, my head between my knees. He plopped down next to me.

"Why are you so interested in whether I fancy Jack or not?" I asked, half-muffled. I felt his hand on my back, rubbing the clothed part.

"I just don't want more people to get hurt because of him," he replied quietly. I looked up.

"What are you saying?" William paused, staring at his hands.

"Let's just say we've not always gotten along," he breathed. When I didn't stop looking at him, he went on with an explanation. "When we first met, he had threatened Elizabeth and beaten me in a swordfight through treacherous techniques. I only came to get him because Barbossa took her away. He planned all the way through to give me to them to end a curse placed upon the entire crew. It was my blood needed to end it, so he figured, 'Hey, what the hell? Give the whelp away, who needs him?'" He let out a bitter laugh. "I still hate him."

"I don't," I muttered. He'd said he hadn't hated me. Even after I left him to die, he didn't hate me. Or was he lying?

And would this plan even work? Going to Davy Jones' Locker to retrieve him, although the charts are screwed up and no one made anything of them except earlier today, might very well end our lives as we know them.

But…maybe I'd get to see Jack again if I did die.

Ending, for now. I realllly loved a certain review I recieved that was a full paragraph. Those are what make me smile the biggest and brightest! So review up readers!