Thank to my reviewers Sleepy Lotus, River, Scarlet Woman and new reviewer kcpiratey05! Your feedback and encouragement are most appreciated.

Your reviews do help to shape the direction of this story and to be honest, I realized in writing this chapter you've blown me a bit off course. I'll probably have to throw in some flashbacks in the next chapter to fill in the timeline.

Disney owns the things. I'm just borrowing their characters.

Chp 13

She woke up disoriented. She could hear wind and rain and the rumble of rolling thunder. A man was snoring next to her. Jack Sparrow. Typhoon. Right. Her head was pillowed on his arm. She felt his warmth where her back pressed against his side.

This was the first time she'd ever shared a bed with a man. She'd slept in a hammock in a room full of snoring, flatulent pirates. She'd slept on the floor of a cell on more than one occasion with other pirates. She lay with her husband once on a beach.

She thought maybe it would be more eventful to lie with a man in his bed. She was glad in a way that it wasn't and fought that small kernel of disappointment that something more didn't happen. But she liked having Jack as a friend and she didn't want to spoil that friendship. She was only here because of the storm. Everything would go back to normal after this rain.

She wondered if this is what it was like to be an old married couple. To skip the passion of youth and be content with warmth and closeness. She wondered if this is what she could have enjoyed with Will if he was still here in this world.

She was suddenly filled with guilt. What would he think to see her like this? Lying in another man's arms. But it wasn't like that with her and Jack. Was it? They were just friends. He barely touched her.

Stop. Think about something else. Not how Jack Sparrow, handsome, charming, swashbuckling pirate lord, lying half naked against her back, might take advantage her in his bed aboard his ship. She felt herself blush down to her toes. Ohhhhh... she shifted in the bed, stretching to ease that tension from her belly to her knees. Think about something else. She should get out of this bed and get on with a normal day.

She was starving. Rum and peanuts did not make a good supper, especially after a day of hard labour. There wouldn't be work today in this kind of rain. Rain day.

She was feeling nauseous and got up to use the head. Maybe get dressed and start a fire for breakfast. The gales didn't seem to be blowing as hard this morning, though the rain was still heavy.

"Ruthy, come back to bed, luv. I'll pay extra for the morning," mumbled Jack, as a woman slipped out of his arms, leaving a cold spot in the bed.

Elizabeth froze. Did he just confuse her for one of his whores? Did he ever just spend the night sleeping next to them? She crouched next to him and whispered into his ear, "promise to make me breakfast and I'll think about it."

"Elizabeth!" he said, his eyes snapping open as he sat up.

She rocked back on her heels laughing.

"Aw, Lizzie," he said, flopping back into the bed and pulling a pillow over his head. "Shit. I am an ass. I'm so sorry," he said more to himself and the gods, than to her. Wow, he had Elizabeth Swann, err... Turner, pirate king, in his bed and he just confused her for a Ruthy Haines.

Elizabeth was sitting on the floor next to the bed in a fit of giggles. Bare legs tucked under her, wearing nothing but one of his old shirts. He would fall to his knees for this girl. If only she wanted him the same way. He checked to see that he still had his pants on. Check. So nothing happened. He held the pillow to his face embarrassed. Maybe he could suffocate.

"You are an ass, Jack," she said, making light of it. "I'm starving, you can make up for it by cooking me breakfast."

"It's too early," he said, watching her with one eye as she got up and crossed the room. "Come back to bed, darling."

But she was already in the other room gathering her clothes off the line. They were mostly dry. She dressed quickly and turned to find a shirtless Jack Sparrow smirking at her from the doorway.

"I should make you breakfast," he hummed, memorizing the lines of her body, "you could use some meat on those bones."

She threw the shirt she'd borrowed at his head, "ugh, you are an ass."

The galley and mess had been refurbished with a new brick oven and better ventilation. The room was reconfigured to make for more comfortable seating and the pantry reorganized with new cupboards and shelves.

Elizabeth entered the mess shaking the rain off the coat she borrowed to keep dry. Cotton was in the galley getting the fire started, his parrot squawked in greeting. He turned and smiled, looking her over.

"I'm fine," she said reading his mind. She walked over and kissed his cheek, "stop looking worried. Nothing happened. We slept. Jack was a perfect gentleman." Not perfectly perfect, but pretty close for a pirate.

He made her pause and look him in the eye. He squeezed her hand and patted her shoulder when he was satisfied. She hugged him back. She wasn't sure how they came to be so close. Maybe because they were both outsiders. Maybe because they were both early to rise and would volunteer to make breakfast. No matter, he felt like family.

She fetched a kettle of water and put it on the stove. She found a handful of dried fruit to snack on while he fed the fire.

"Miss. Elizabeth," sang Gibbs in greeting, "or rather, Mrs. Turner." None of them had really gotten used to calling her by her married name. She didn't seem to hold them to it.

"Good morning, Mr. Gibbs," she replied formally.

"You alright this morning, lass?" he asked. He looked her over and also at Cotton, who nodded that all was well.

"I'm fine," she sighed, amused by their concern. "You, of all people, should know I'm quite capable of taking care of myself."

Gibbs nodded. She was always a stubborn girl, even when he first met her crossing over from England. She was one to tempt fate as a child with her pirate songs. Look at her now, king of them all. An interesting twist of fate.

"The Captain has a reputation for breaking hearts," he said, almost stern in his warning. "We asked him to be careful with yours. We've become very fond of you," his voice softening, "of, well, of having you around. And it would be a shame not to have you here, but for some tiff between you and Jack."

Elizabeth was a little surprised at this admission. Gibbs was first mate, quarter master, he was the one to keep discipline on this ship. She respected him and feared him. She went to put an arm around him and kiss his cheek. He hugged her in return. "My heart isn't really his to break, is it?" she said, not because she believed it, but rather to reassure him.

"All's the more reason to fear he'll break it. Or steal it," was Gibbs whispered reply. "He is a notorious pirate after all."

It was a particularly lazy morning with the storm still raging outside. Breakfast was an informal affair. Jack made a big pot of boiled eggs, some for eating, others for pickling later. Cotton made porridge, because he always made porridge. Pintel ground up beans for a fresh pot of coffee. Gibbs put a pot of beans and a ham bone to simmer away for supper.

Elizabeth conscripted Marty and Ragetti to help make noodles, which she'd learned to make while on the Empress. It was a simple recipe. One scoop of flour and a pinch of salt for every serving. Enough water to mix it into a stiff dough. Knead until smooth. Let rest. Roll as thin as possible. Cut into strips.

Wheat flour was a treat on Shipwreck island as it hadn't the climate or soil or topography that was conducive to grain farming. They did grow some grain, but not in the quantities required to sustain the amount of grain common to a continental diet, whether wheat, corn or rice. This flour was procured from the plunder of a recently returned pirate ship.

Gibbs noticed Elizabeth favouring her right arm, as she instructed Marty and Ragetti on the kneading. "Something wrong with your arm, lass?" he asked.

"Oh," she said, rubbing her wrist, "it's nothing. I strained it at work the other day. It doesn't really bother me unless I use it too much. I just try to rest it when I can."

Gibbs tsked at her, "you work too hard."

"Well," she said, pausing in her kneading, "there's no one to look after me now. I have to work while there's work to be done."

They all felt little ashamed to hear those words from her. How far she had fallen from a pampered upbringing to working herself to the bone to pay her own way. And she never voiced a word of complaint. Perhaps they all felt a little responsible for her situation.

"You could join our crew," said Jack. "We look after each other, don't we lads? We'd look after you too."

She shook her head. "I'm already taking advantage of meals here," she said sheepishly. "Besides I don't think I would be much help with renovations, deconstruction doesn't take as much skill as construction."

"We'd show you the ropes," said Marty. "You're a quick study."

"They're working you too hard, girl," said Gibbs.

She shook her head again, "they paid me well. Two lump sums already for my share and helping to sell the plunder. Now that the Empress has set sail, it's a generous stipend until the ship is dismantled. If it was piece work I could set my own pace, but as it is, I need to keep up with the men or they'll not have me."

"Not much of a pirate if you're working to make an honest living," said Jack. Really, he was quite proud of her, but didn't like how she made him feel like maybe he wasn't good enough for her. Like she didn't need him. "What do you need the money for anyway, if you're sailing with us?"

"I didn't ask for this. Helping you is what branded me as a pirate," she scoffed, but gave him a smile when she saw him frown. "There's nought wrong with earning my own way with honest hard work," she added in her own defence. "Besides, you all know I don't plan to sail with you."

They'd heard it before, but it didn't make it any less disappointing to hear again. They all hoped she would stick with them, especially after the Empress left without her aboard. Who else did she have left in the world? It didn't make sense for her to be on her own.

"Don't look so surprised," she said, "you know I don't want to go back to the Caribbean." Her stomach churned just thinking about it. She would rather be anywhere else in the world. Perhaps Jack could understand her aversion to heading back to her childhood home, he so hated it here.

"I'm excited to start anew somewhere and I like it here," she said. "I'm on my own now and I have to think about my own interests. I've already paid for 6 months of rent in advance."

"If anyone is smart enough and stubborn enough to make it on their own it's you," said Gibbs, still concerned about the way she was favouring that wrist. She was a smart one that Elizabeth Swann was, he never doubted that about her. She had run her father's house since she was old enough to learn her numbers so she knew the cost of running a house. Still, it must be a little frightening to be out all on her own.

"Are you really going to stay here?" asked Jack incredulous. "I can't stand this place."

"It's an adventure for me," she shrugged. She sat and cleaned her hands with a damp cloth while the dough rested. "I've already made some friends around the Inn. They're taking me to the hot springs next week. Perhaps when my job is done I'll have more time to do some exploring."

"You're working too hard," said Gibbs sternly, taking her right arm and watching her wince, "and I'm not one to criticize hard work." He pressed lightly along the length of her arm until her flinching gave away the sore spot. "You should bind this before you make it worse," he said.

"It's really not that bad," she protested, as Gibbs and Cotton fussed around her. Gibbs bound her wrist firmly, from her palm to pirate brand, with cloth strips and a light wooden splint that Cotton brought to him. "How am I supposed to work with my arm bound like this?" she cried.

"That's the point, lass, stop working, let your arm heal up before you wreck it for good and you're not able work at all," he said. "Stay off it for a few days."

She pouted looking at her arm. Damn. He was right. It didn't really bothering her unless she was using it, but it had also been several days and wasn't getting better. A permanent injury could really ruin her future. At least today was a rain day. She wasn't missing anything today, but she was loathe to miss a day of work.

Jack gave the men a tutorial on chopsticks. Growing up in Shipwreck City, as cosmopolitan as it was and heavily influenced by Asia, eating with chopsticks was pretty normal among it's residents. After a few comical attempts most just opted for cutting up the stands and eating them with a spoon or slurping their noodles straight from the bowl. Soup noodles aboard a swaying ship was a delicious, though messy affair.

"What's so bad about Tortuga?" asked Jack. He was sitting next to Elizabeth scarfing down a bowl of noodle soup. Perfect comfort food on a stormy day. Their boots touching under the table, as was their habit.

"It's not Tortuga," she said. "It's just," she sighed, "I don't want anyone to see me like this. Not anyone I knew from my old life." She was feeling frustrated and just a little sorry for herself. She was having a hard time eating with her left hand. Her arm hurt. She needed some new clothes, these were not holding up well with the wear and tear of her new job.

She watched him eat his meal deftly with a pair of sticks. He always managed to surprise her. She was glad that he enjoyed this special treat. A far cry from the treats and presents she used to get in Port Royal. "Do you know what they - what we were like if you didn't keep up with the latest fashions? I don't even own a dress anymore."

"We can buy you a dress, if that's all that's holding you back," he smiled, polishing off his second bowl of noodles.

"It's not just that," she struggled with what to say, "I don't know how to reconcile my new life with my old one. I'm not unhappy, but they wouldn't understand. Savvy?"

He smiled at her use of his phrase. "Aye, savvy," he said, as he watched her wrestle with a particularly slippery noodle.

"I don't know how I'd about feel seeing old friends. All of them probably married with babies," she felt the tears welling up. What could she feel but grief and jealousy for what could have been her life, and resentment for having it taken from her? She sniffed and swallowed the lump in her throat, "I suppose it's not my fate to be kept and coddled."

"Do you want to be?" he asked. He never thought of her as the type to settle down and have babies. Maybe that's the only path that was ever presented to her.

She shook her head, "maybe not. I like to feel like I can take care of myself." She looked at her bowl and the binding on her arm. She chucked ruefully, "I can barely feed myself, today."

Jack picked up a noodle with his chopsticks and held it to her mouth. She took it between her lips and slurped it, flicking broth on both of them. He laughed wiping soup off his face. "It's not so bad having someone look out for you, is it?" He picked up another noodle to feed her.

"I suppose it's tolerable under certain circumstances," she said with a smile.

He cornered her in the pantry. Playing with fire. Tempting fate. Maybe that just made it more exciting. He had her up against the hull. Her arms around his neck. He had opened up her shirt enough to kiss her collar bones. She was sighing in his ear. His hands wandered down to her hips. His thigh between her legs.

"Stop," she gasped. He paused to look her in the eye, his own dark and slightly unfocused. He kissed her lips and felt her melt under his touch. Her lips parting as her tongue begged for entry, he obliged. His hands sliding up under her shirt. Hands circling her waist, tracing the bottom of her rib cage. She tensed and trembled under his touch. Her kisses deep and desperate. Hips rocking with the rhythm of the ship. Her heart racing when she heard him moan.

She came up for air and disengaged. "Stop," she said and pushed him away. She'd never felt so aroused. He could feel her hot and wet against his thigh. She thought she might burst. "Stop," she said crying, "what are we doing?" She leaned her head against his shoulder and let him hold her.

"Just a bit of fun on a rainy afternoon," he whispered. He kissed her hair.

"No," she said, catching her breath, "it's wrong. I'm married."

"Your husband is dead," he said, smoothing her hair gently. "You've had over a month of mourning."

"My husband is not so dead that he isn't coming back in ten years," she said. "Davy Jones cut out his heart when he thought himself a jilted lover. My husband could throw you back into the locker." He could put both of us in the locker, she thought, though my fate might be less kind. They don't call it rape if it's your husband forcing himself on you. Oh god, is that how she thought of Will now?

"You husband doesn't need to know about our tryst," he whispered.

"Is that what this is?" she said.

"I'm not asking you for any commitment," he said. "You don't plan to sail with us." He wiped a tear gently from her cheek. "What is it you want, darling?" his voice tender.

She was confused. She shook her head. "I don't know," she said, "not this." She needed to get away from him. She needed to clear her head. She walked out of the pantry. She walked out of the mess past all the men. She walked onto the deck where it was still raining.

All the men turned to glare at Jack. "What did you do?" asked Gibbs.

"Obviously, the wrong thing," he said storming out the door. They thought he was going after her, but heard him stomping around and slamming doors in his cabin.

Cotton threw on his coat and went after her. She'd walked off the Pearl on to the dock. Cotton caught up to her in the downpour. She stood in the rain and cried on his shoulder.

He walked her to the Inn. She kissed his cheek good bye. She went up to her room alone, stripped off her wet clothes, tucked herself in bed and cried herself to sleep.

Woo... Steamy. Sorry if that didn't end they way you wanted. I was really debating if the make out scene was too soon or how far they should go, but with all the flirting that's been going on, I figured it was time.

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