A/N: FLAKSJASLKH! CHAPTER! FINALLY! I'm so sorry about the huge wait, I suffered a massive lack of inspiration and motivation :/ We're almost done now, too! But I do have a sequel planned :) It's just a question of whether or not I'll be able to make myself write it… Sigh.

Funny, how death reshuffles your priorities. One moment you're risking everything to save your life, and the next your standing on a ship full of pirates with a gun pointing at your head wondering if any of it was worth it. OK, so Jack said the gun wasn't loaded. He also said that the First Mate's cabin would be a fine place to sleep and accommodation worthy of a lady. The man's a performer- who knows how far he'll go to make it convincing? Because it has to be convincing, otherwise the bullet through my head will be Angelica's, not his.

Dear me, dear me. What have I gotten myself into?

I squirm uncomfortably in Jack's headlock- exactly the same position I was in a little over a week ago, would you believe it. Either this is a very common manoeuvre or Barbossa taught Jack a few tricks at some point in his undoubtedly long life. Of course I'll start struggling right and proper once we can actually see Angelica's bloody boat, but no point in tempting Jack's finger to slip on the trigger unless I have-

What was that?

The sound of water slapping against a hull. Ours. But wait… There's another one. Out of beat. The clinking sound of weapons being drawn carries across the water through the night. Oh, they thought they were being quiet, but we were being even quieter. We could hear a sparrow farting at the Hourglass if we kept this up long enough.

A rustling of clothes that sounds deafening in the silence, and terrifying when you consider the numbers of muskets being raised at this moment. I can't see anything behind me but I'm assuming our crew is just as trigger-ready. God, they had better be. Because I swear-

"Stop!" Jack bellows at the top of his lungs and I give an involuntary, startled squawk as he drags me across into swinging yellow lantern light. "You shoot me, I'll shoot her."

There's a viciousness in his voice that scares me a little.

"Stop!" Ah, there it is. That twangy, fierce voice I have come to known so well. Ladies and gentlemen, my mother: Angelica Teach.

Jack kicks the back of my ankle. Oh yes. Struggle, Evangeline. Whimper pathetically. No, on second thoughts, don't. She won't buy that.

The rage in Angelica's voice is barely contained. "What do you think you're doing, Sparrow?" she demands.

"Proving a point," Jack said charmingly.

On their boat, a light flares and distantly I see a flickering flame illuminating Angelica's face. Stone hard and angry. Two of the people she hates the most, assembled as one and united against her? That's gotta piss her off. "And what point might that be?" she asks tightly.

"That we are bulletproof," Jack grins, and seems to forget for a moment that he is holding me and waves the arm around my neck as if to gesture at the ship. I wobble and sway dangerously, but he eventually remembers I'm here and pulls me right back up again, jamming the pistol against the side of my head once more.

All in all, a short but immensely painful experience.

Angelica snorts. "You wish, Sparrow," she says brazenly.

"Oh really?" Jack challenges her. "You were quite prepared to shoot us down in a surprise attack- how very cowardly of you, by the way- until I pointed this here lovely deadly weapon at dear old Evie."

"That'll be Evangeline to you," I spit for good measure. I also kinda meant it, too.

Even from here, you can see Angelica tighten every muscle in her body in irritation. Because he's right, and she knows it. But no-one else can. It's a secret- a very badly kept one, but a secret all the same.

"What do you want?" she bellows across the gap. Two of the soldiers closest to her shuffle away nervously.

"A deal," Jack declares. "I intend to use this here lovely child-" Here he gives me a rough shake, as if there might be more than one lovely child on this ship and we just need to remember which one he's talking about. "As a mole in your precious elite."

Angelica seems to forget where she is for a moment, and forgets who she is and what has happened. Because her voice falters, and even from here I can hear her mutter, "She would never-"

"Not done yet!" Jack reminds her in sing-song. "She will do what I tell her because if she doesn't, I will kill her."

Angelica tries to put up a fight. "Kill her now! I don't care!"

"Yes you do," Jack snorts. Angelica doesn't reply. "However, if we're going to do this we will require your help. I'll drop dear little Evangeline off where I think she will be of most use and she will get herself a place among the goody-goody rich people because she is the daughter of Angelica Avi, which will be confirmed by Angelica Avi herself." Jack looks at Angelica pointedly.

"What makes you think I'll agree?" Angelica snaps.

"If you don't, we'll tell on you," Jack says simply, and from here you can hear the confused mutterings of Angelica's crew and practically feel the hate radiating off her skin. Everything she has built here, with her big fancy privateer license, could be so easily taken away if she doesn't oblige. All that power, down the drain- not to mention her life. Nope, can't risk any of that.

"What if I shoot you all now?" she demands.

"I've come back from the dead before," Jack says with a smile. "Don't doubt I'll do it again."

"He has a point," I add helpfully. "He's, like, best friends with Davy Jones."

Jack looks at me. "How did you know that?" he demands.

"Rocky told me."

"William Turner is not my best friend!"

"Well, I was just saying-"

"Enough!" Angelica, irritated as hell. Jack and I clamp our mouths shut and look at her like guilty children, and Jack kicks the back of my heel angrily.

"You got us in trouble," he grumbles.

I slam my boot heel down on his toes as hard as I can and he gasps in pain and loosens his grip. I could escape, but I won't, because there's no point. "Stop being such a baby."

"Enough!" Angelica repeats furiously. This time Jack and I really do shut up, and wait impatiently for her decision.

Of course, anyone with any sense would shoot us down on the spot. But that's the thing: Angelica is quite senseless. With love. Because deep down, she knows that no matter how long and hard her rage for Jack and I burns, her life will be unliveable knowing she was the one who ordered the bullets to pierce our hearts or heads or whatever. The very first time I met her, the first time I overheard the crewmen swapping stories about their fearsome and mysterious captain aboard the Glorifier, I thought she was a strategist, a fearful opponent. But now I know she's just a scared little girl who could never quite define right from wrong.

And I would feel sorry for her, except she's kind of threatening to kill me. So it's hard.

The men on both sides are becoming restless: the Queen's Navy have a reputation to uphold and here they are, holding fire on a pirate ship sitting right in front of them. The pirates? They're just seriously trigger-happy and like the smell of gunpowder. And I think Rocky might cry if he doesn't get to take part in any action on what is probably his first time on deck.

The silence seems to stretch for about two million years. I relax in Jack's arms, using him as a kind of human couch, but he shrugs me upright again unhappily. Right. I'm still supposed to look like I'm held against my will. I can't see Angelica's face as clearly as I used to: the lantern has begun to burn down. That's how long it's taking her to make a decision. Either way, her reputation is somewhat tarnished: if she lets us go, she's sure to be at least demoted and trash-talked by every soldier in the Navy. If she does try to shoot us down, we will reply in kind and Gibbs is already standing concealed at the helm, ready to take off at a moment's notice. Provided the kitchen remains the sturdy stronghold it has always been (you've got admire the architecture of anything that can withstand stinky pirates stuffing their faces with Rocky's pathetic excuses for food everyday), Jack and I should make it back to Port Royal to smear Angelica Avi's name before being hung for piracy.

I'm starting to wonder why I gave up my chance to change everything back at the Hourglass.

Finally, just when I think I'm about to collapse and die from old age, Angelica's strangled squeak spills from her mouth and tumbles down onto the deck, overflowing over the sides and racing over the water towards us. It sounds lovely in theory, but I only say this because the strangled squeak made no sense whatsoever. It was just that: a squeak. So you can see how I had the time to come up with that beautiful imagery just there.

"What's that?" Jack is being genuinely sincere about trying to find out what Angelica said, but I think the mocking edge in his voice comes by default.

"Go!" Angelica barks harshly. An explosion of murmurs sounds from her crew: the clinking of muskets as they turn to stare at her, muttering almost conspiratorially. Protests are raised, but no-one really pays any attention: minus the initial disappointed sighs on our side, our men are quickly preparing to disappear into the night without a trace. Jack and I stay still, though: just to remind her what will happen if she changes her mind and orders her men to fire. I hold her furious gaze fearlessly before I remember I'm supposed to be the damsel in distress. Even as I think this, her eyes move away from mine and lock onto Jack's. Even though we're beginning to drift away, you can't fail to notice the intense hatred blazing across her face. I have never seen anyone look as angry as Angelica does now. But even as I watch my ultimately confused parents stare each other down, I see her eyes soften for a moment. Like she's looking at Jack and I together, instead of just two separate pieces of a puzzle. Looks at us as what we are: her family. The only one she has left. And even as she fades away into the blackness, I could swear the ghost of a smile flits across her lips.

xXx

It's another week before we land in Port Royal, and even then it's in the dead of night. We manage to find a dress that fits me relatively well- well enough to get me up to the Military Office in this city, explain my situation and move into the big mansion they'd better have waiting for me, because I am tired and cold and hungry after so long at sea. I don't know how Jack stands it.

I stand, shivering, in the cold night air, clutching the voluminous dress in my fists and waiting impatiently for Jack to stop fluffing around with his crew and say goodbye. I know he wants to. Hell, I want to say goodbye to him. As painful as he may be, it's hard to just go fifteen years of your life not knowing who your father is, spend two odd weeks with him and then have to let him go again. I hate him, but he's still my dad. It's tough to ignore things like that.

Of course, if it was I probably wouldn't be alive.

I start hopping from foot to foot. I had to take a dunk in the bay before I came on shore, dress and all, so the whole shipwrecked story would seem more believable. It helps that I look and sound Spanish, too- the English Navy won't have any records to double-check with. I've got to hand it to him: given his general drunkenness, Jack really did think this one through. Maybe it's because I'm his daughter. I doubt it though.

"Oi!" I hiss through chattering teeth. "Did you follow me off that blasted ship for a reason or do you just dunk yourself into freezing black water for fun?"

Jack throws a glare over his shoulder, but he can put it off no longer. He drags his feet like it's a big effort to come and stand opposite me before throwing his gaze up at me demandingly. I glare right back.

"Did you want something?" he asks, in that quick way that makes it all sound like one word. Didyouwantsomething?

"Only wanted to know when you wanted the dress back," I grumble, not making eye contact, because even if we both want to say goodbye we're both too proud to admit it. "I imagine you must look stunning in it. Fits you perfectly, doesn't it?"

Jack begins to say something, but gives up, rolls his eyes and hands me a heavy sack. "Here," he grumbles, also avoiding my eye.

I weigh up the sack. Anything could be in it, from dead rats to overripe mangoes. "What's this for?" I demand suspiciously.

"Stuff," he sniffs, taking a sudden interest in his boots. "To, you know, ease your way."

I take a peek inside: it's filled with everything from more dreaded dresses to piles and piles of- yes, overripe mangoes. A bottle of rum, which must have killed him to part with. I hate the stuff, but I don't tell him this. I recognize and appreciate the gesture and I stay quiet, looking into his eyes and waiting until he does the same.

"Thank you," I tell him quietly. "For everything."

And before I can change my mind I hug him. For, like, two seconds. I squeeze him tight enough just so I impart some of the seawater imbedded into my dress onto him, because I need a good wringing out. We sort of shove away from each other and really avoid each other's gazes this time. The Port Royal breeze whistles between us until the hushed calls of the crew reach their captain, calling him back.

"Right- um, so, thanks for the, uh, the food," I babble in a rush, swinging the bag pointedly and almost knocking Jack over.

"Mm, yes, have fun with, uh, all this," Jack says at the same time, gesturing wildly at Port Royal rising up around us.

"Yeah- yeah, I will," I mutter, mostly to myself as I watch Jack march back to his beloved ship. Part of me can't believe that it's already over. I keep trying to tell myself that it's not over at all, I'm still Jack's spy here, but really- what are the chances of me finding any adventures for Jack or myself now? I'm a member of the elite again. I should be doing little more than waiting on my husband in some fancy old parlour.

The thought depresses me so much to the point that I call out after Jack, "Will I see you again?"

He stops and turns, and we stare into each other's eyes for a long time before he replies. And when he does reply, I know it's genuine because none of his crew are here to listen. His words are loud enough for me but quiet enough for prying ears not to catch.

"I hope so."

And then he climbs up the rope, hops back aboard the Pearl and sails away. Without a backwards glance. Without me.

I pretend to act annoyed, like he can still see me. But for one thing, it's tough to storm off in a dignified huff when you're tripping over your own dress.

For another, that last remark made me feel all warm and stupid and fuzzy inside and I kind of like it.