Disclaimer: I own nothing. And I mean nothing. I own even less than usual in this chapter.

Hello all! Been an insanely long while, hasn't it? Very sorry about that! But well…here it is again! Mostly thanks to Meaghan who keeps bugging me about this story. So thank you, Meaghan (I mean that sincerely), and now you can stop poking me about posting again. I'd recap the plot since it's been so long, but…there isn't one. Jack and Will are wandering in a cornfield, avoiding Norrington and his unspecified number of soldiers, while Elizabeth is elsewhere looking for Jack's crew. So far Jack has made friends with a squirrel and a bonsai tree, and had some unfortunate run-ins with a mattress, a flying salad bowl, and numerous other strange entities. Not much of a plot.

As to business…last chapter's quotes! First quote was "Aw heck, James! Live a little! Make it two!" which, along with the subsequent "rubbernecker" discussion, was from Secret Window. Ditto for the bad writing discussion. And "Some cultures are defined by their relationship to cheese" is a quote out of Benny and Joon, said by Joon. Congrats to Flying Sparrow, Teenaged Banshee, Naoko Tasaki, Lordoftheringsfanficreader, open-notebook (I'm assuming, based on Secret Window reference in review), the Flying Amish and elizabethk! (wow, that's a lot…)

Only other business is to report that there are, sadly, no quotes in this chapter. Try as I might, none fit. Leastwise, it didn't fit to have Jack say any….safe to say, Johnny's other movies are adequately represented. Read on.

Chapter the Tenth

There were countless rows of corn in this particular field. Probably hundreds at least. Even wandering all night, Jack and Will were unlikely to go down every row. And yet, they still managed to go down the wrong row. They realized it was the wrong row to pick after going only a few feet. They had only gone those few feet when they heard a rustling behind them. When they looked back, they found a solid wall of corn.

Will blinked at the solid mass of cornstalks. "Didn't we come through there a minute ago?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah."

"Wasn't there an empty row there a minute ago?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah."

"Where did it go? Cornstalks don't move!"

Jack shrugged. "It's a strange cornfield."

"You aren't kidding," Will said, walking up to the stalks. He reached a hand in between the green leaves. "I wonder if we can push—ow!" He jerked his hand back and stared at the corn. "It bit me!"

Jack's expression was distinctly patronizing, and it's a good bet he had a few of the evening's previous events in mind. Things like flying bowls, the existence of which had been doubted by certain people. "Cornstalks don't bite, Will."

"This one does. See for yourself."

"Cornstalks don't have teeth, ye see," Jack said, reaching into the corn. He pulled back almost at once. "Fangs, though, they may have fangs." He shook his hand, and frowned. "I think we're gonna be 'ere awhile."

Because they couldn't go back, the only option was forward. So they went forward. Not very far though. When trapped in a cornfield, it's a good idea to ask directions from the locals. Not that you're very likely to find locals sitting in a cornfield in the middle of the night. But sometimes you get lucky.

"Hello."

Jack and Will halted to regard the young man with the reddish-brown hair sitting against the corn. He hardly looked like the type you'd find in Port Royal, Tortuga, or a cornfield.

"'ello," Jack said cheerfully. "Nice to meet ye, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow." He extended an only slightly dirty hand.

The man stood up, and shook Jack's hand. "I'm Gilbert Grape."

"Don't s'pose you know the way outta here, Gilbert?" Jack asked.

Gilbert shook his head in a negative. "I don't even know where here is. At first I thought I was in the fields near my town, but…the people here…there's nobody like them in Endora." He glanced at Jack. "No one like you either."

Jack's expression was distinctly smug. "I'm kinda unique."

Will managed to stick more firmly to the point. "Did you say there are other people here?"

"Oh, sure. Just keep going that way," Gilbert said, indicating the direction they'd been walking in. "I don't think they know the way out either though."

"But it can't 'urt to ask," Jack said optimistically. "Thanks fer yer help."

Jack and Will continued on. They next came upon two men standing deep in conversation. Both were neatly dressed in suits, one with a faintly Victorian flare, the other far older than that. The one on the left had a gray suit and dark hair neatly combed and faintly wavy. The one on the right had dark hair as well but longer over his forehead, with a mustache and short beard, above a brown suit. They didn't notice Jack and Will, engaged as they were in their own discussion.

"So do you have trouble with people moving the bodies?" the one in gray was asking.

"Definitely. Happens to you too?"

"All the time. These country people just don't get it that you must never move the body."

"And interference just makes the job harder. I've had murder notes rubbed out, crowds swarming to see a victim—usually regretting it afterwards, but getting in the way at the time."

"It's a hard line of work we're in."

The two lapsed into a contemplative silence. Jack took the opportunity to cough. Both men looked over, appearing unsurprised. Though it seems doubtful one would expect to see all four of these men in the same place at the same time. Or even the same century.

The one in gray extended a hand. "You must be newcomers. Nice to meet you. I'm Ichabod Crane, special investigator for the New York homicide department."

"And I'm Fred Abberline, special investigator for her majesty's government.

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, and I…don't work for anyone." Jack shrugged. "I'm a pirate."

"I'm Will Turner, blacksmith. Occasionally known to commit acts of piracy."

Handshaking went all around. Jack shook hands with Ichabod. Will shook hands with Fred. Jack shook hands with Fred. Will shook hands with Ichabod. Jack tried to shake hands with Will, but Will gave him a look.

"So, welcome to…" Ichabod paused. "I don't know what you want to call this place, but welcome anyway."

"We're just passing through," Will said at once.

Fred and Ichabod exchanged a look. "Of course," Fred said.

"Could ye point us to the way out?" Jack requested.

"There isn't one," Ichabod said.

"There has to be one," Will argued.

Ichabod shook his head. "There isn't. People come in…"

"But no one leaves," Fred finished.

"So…what, you all just stay here?" Will asked incredulously.

"Why don't you go talk to Roux?" Ichabod suggested. "Maybe he can explain things to you."

"Just keep going that way. Roux's the one with the guitar," Fred explained.

"Alright, off we go again," Jack concluded, and struck off again. Will shrugged and followed.

The row they were in soon opened out into a larger clearing, bordered by waving cornstalks and filled with a scattering of people. Jack and Will cut across the clearing, following the guitar music, to find Roux. Sitting on a rough bench, he was wearing a dark blue-green shirt, and bending over a guitar. A few strands of light brown hair had escaped his ponytail and were hanging about his face.

"'scuse me, are you Roux?" Jack asked.

Roux nodded without looking up, intent on his guitar and the tune he was fingering.

"Fred an' Ichabod told us to talk to ye," Jack explained.

Roux finished out his music then looked up, propping the guitar against the bench next to him. "Newcomers, eh? Welcome."

Jack was tiring of the introductions, and raced through them. "I'm Jack, he's Will, and we're just passing through," he said firmly.

"Of course," Roux said knowingly. "Let me try to make it clear. There's a couple dozen of us here, and no one can find a way out. We're here. And we seem to be staying."

"But I can't stay!" Jack protested, sitting down on the bench next to Roux. "I've got a ship!"

Will sat down on Roux's other side. "And I've got a wife."

"Yeah, but I have a ship." It was pretty obvious which Jack thought was more important.

"You have a ship?" Roux asked.

"The Black Pearl," Jack said proudly.

"I have a ship."

Jack looked at Roux with new interest. "Really?"

"Sure. I'm a river rat."

Jack's eyes practically lit up. "Is that sort of like a pirate?"

Roux smiled. "Yeah, you could say that."

"I'm a pirate," Jack said proudly. "The most fearsome pirate in the entire Spanish Main. Which is why I've got to get back to my ship," he added, back to his original point.

"You may not be able to," Roux cautioned.

"I'm not losin' my ship because I'm trapped in a bloody cornfield!"

"Well sometimes it happens," Roux snapped. "Ships get lost, believe me. I know."

At which point Jack put aside his immediate goal and showed a fair bit of insight. He looked at Roux shrewdly. "Ye've lost a ship, 'aven't ye?"

Roux looked away. "She burned."

"I'm sorry, mate," Jack said sincerely.

Roux nodded. "Me too. Had to tell myself I hadn't lost a home, just a way to get from place to place, really."

Jack choked and turned positively white.

Roux frowned. "Are you all right?"

Jack gasped and gaped and seemed to be trying to say something but couldn't formulate the words, ending up with strange half-syllables instead.

"Jack, breathe," Will ordered.

Jack took in a gulping breath and finally managed to croak, "Just a way…to get…from place to place?"

Roux nodded. "Well, yes, because—"

"Place to place?" Jack's voice was rising. "Just a way—a ship—place to PLACE? What's wrong with you?!"

Roux showed remarkable patience. "Wait a minute, let me—"

Jack leaped to his feet, set his bonsai tree down on the bench, and drew his sword. "Draw," he ordered.

"I don't have a sword," Roux pointed out.

"Will, give him your sword."

"And if I had a sword, I wouldn't know how to use it," Roux further pointed out.

Jack frowned, and switched weapons. "Pistols at twenty paces?" he said hopefully. "One shot each?"

"Jack, I'm not going to duel you."

"You insulted my girl," Jack said stiffly.

"You mean…the Black Pearl?" Roux guessed.

"Yes!"

"Are you understanding this?" Roux asked Will.

Will shrugged. "He's very attached to his ship."

"Because what a ship is…what the Black Pearl really is…is freedom."

"Question," Will put in, "is that really all that different from 'a way to get from place to place?'"

Jack opened his mouth. Shut it again. Thought a moment. Dismissed the whole thing. "Yes! It is! It's completely different, an entirely different concept! Which is why I want ye to choose yer weapon. If necessary, find me a guitar and I'll hit ye over the head with it."

"Jack, will you sit down and let me finish?"

"No." Jack remained standing.

"Well I'm going to finish anyway, alright? I was upset when I said that. I didn't mean it."

"Oh." Jack sat down. "That's different then. So. We were talking about the way out."

"Actually, we were talking about how there isn't one," Roux reminded him.

"I'm unconvinced."

"Why don't you walk around a little? Meet the people, see what we've got here…just get a feel for the place."

"A good idea," Jack decreed. "And maybe we'll find the way out somewhere."

Roux looked at him doubtfully. "Maybe," he said, and bent to pick up his guitar again. "So, just…wander a little. If you want something to eat try that way."

"Let's," Jack decided, picked up Hector, and headed in the direction Roux had indicated as having food, Will trooping dutifully after.

"I wonder what kind of food we'll be able to find," Will said idly as they walked along.

"Corn," said a voice that didn't belong to Jack or Will. Looking to their left, they saw a young man with straight dark hair, a blue jacket and pants, and dark glasses. "You'll find lots, and lots, of corn. Unless you brought food?" he asked hopefully.

"Nope, sorry," Jack said.

The other man sighed. "What I wouldn't give for some pork. I might even let the cook live."

Jack gave him a strange look, and opted to continue on his way. Will wasn't quite so willing to let it go. "Wait…you normally kill cooks?"

"I have to restore the balance to Mexico," he said matter-of-factly.

"Oh. Of course," Will said faintly, and continued after Jack.

It turned out it was easy to find the food. And it turned out the gentleman of the pork had been correct. There was a lot of corn. A table piled high with a mountain of corncobs. The only part of the table not covered in corn was the steaming vat of water.

A man peered over the top of the corn. He had blond-streaked brown hair, large, brown-rimmed glasses, and a nice smile. "Hi, I'm Mort. You must be looking for something to eat. I hope you like corn."

Jack had a very odd expression. "No…no, I don't think so. No, thanks."

Will looked at him in surprise. "What? I thought—"

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Jack hissed.

"It's corn, Jack!"

"I grew it myself," Mort put in. "There's this nice corner by my cabin, it grows great there. So do you want some?"

"No. I don't," Jack said abruptly.

"I—" Will began.

"He doesn't want any either," Jack interrupted.

Will stared at him. "Jack, what—?"

"I don' trust him," Jack muttered.

"Jack!"

"Got a bad feeling, that's all," Jack said in a low voice. "Look, you stay and eat the weird corn, whatever, I'm gonna go…" He looked around. "…look at the guy doing the hat tricks," he said vaguely, nodding towards a small crowd gathered to, well, look at the guy doing the hat tricks.

Will watched him amble off for a moment, then turned back to Mort. "I'm sorry, I don't know what that was all about—"

"And another thing." Jack was back. He looked furtively at Mort, then muttered in Will's ear, "If his mouth starts twitching…run."

"What?"

Jack held up his hands in innocence. "Just a feeling, just a feeling." Then he retreated again.

Will looked back at Mort. "Um, he's a little…"

"Insane? Maybe bordering on schizophrenic, or split personalities?" Mort suggested innocently.

For the first time Will gave Mort just a slightly odd look. "Well…I don't know about that, but he is a little…out there."

"Lots of people in here are out there," Mort said calmly. "But I take it you won't be wanting any corn?"

Will glanced towards Jack. "It might be a bad idea."

"Want some Doritos then?" Mort asked, offering Will an orange bag.

Will looked at the bag. "What are they?"

It was finally Mort's turn to deliver some strange looks. "Chips."

"Are they edible?"

"Yes…"

"All right, sure," Will said, taking the bag and dubiously biting into a Dorito.

"Where are you from, kid?" Mort asked curiously.

"Port Royal," Will said, oblivious to the fact that being unaware of Doritos was at all strange. "These are kind of…interesting," he concluded.

"Yeah."

"I better catch up with Jack," Will said, and turned to go. "Thanks for the…Doritas."

"Don't mention it," Mort Rainey said, helping himself to another ear of corn from the steaming bowl.

Which gave Will a funny sort of feeling. He managed a smile and nodded to Mort, privately wondered if just possibly Jack might have a point about this one, and went to rejoin Jack among the crowd watching the guy doing the hat tricks.

Who we will hear about next chapter. Because this is already very long, and besides, I couldn't give away every single character in one fell swoop, could I?

Just for clarification purposes, characters appearingthus far are: Gilbert from What's Eating Gilbert Grape?, Ichabod from Sleepy Hollow, Fred from FromHell, Roux from Chocolat, Sands from Once Upon a Time in Mexico,and Mort from Secret Window. More comingsoon!(And I mean that!)