Michelle's jaw dropped as she saw Will produce Davy Jones's heart from inside his shirt. A million questions were buzzing through her mind, but she didn't know which one to ask first. Even if she did know, she thought, she probably wouldn't be able to form any comprehensible words, much less string them along into questions.

"How--" she croaked finally, not taking her eyes off of the faintly beating organ. "How do you--"

"Jones never knew I had it in the first place, and therefore didn't know to look for it on me," Will said, smiling slightly at Michelle's reaction. Michelle finally looked up at him, wincing slightly at the gash that marred his otherwise handsome face.

"But Jones might figure out that you have it," she whispered wonderingly.

"What?"

"When I first...got back, I heard him and one of the crew members talking...they were saying how they hadn't searched you for the heart because they wanted you to suffer..."

Michelle dropped her eyes, guilty that she hadn't been able to rescue Will from being hurt. She quickly pushed this thought away as Will began to speak again.

"Then we haven't got much time."

"Well, what are we supposed to do?" Michelle asked frustratedly. "Should we just stab the thing and get it over with?"

Will shook his head. "I don't think it will be that easy," he said grimly.

"Yeah, I doubt anything is going to be easy for us in this situation," Michelle grumbled. "So...what do you think will happen if we stab it?" she asked, feeling excitement rise within her.

Looking up at Will, she somehow perceived that he wasn't as thrilled at the prospect of blindly stabbing the heart of Davy Jones. In fact, he was looking at her as if she were insane.

"I'd rather not find out," he said bluntly. "I have a feeling something would happen to the ship as well."

Michelle nodded. She wasn't too keen on the ship sinking or something while she and Will were trapped in the brig. But still...

"So we just find a way out of here and then stab it?" she asked brightly.

Will chuckled at this idea. "I guess that's the best plan we've got," he said resignedly. (Is that a word??)

Alison and James had walked back to the inn in stony silence, neither of them acknowledging the fact that Alison had just been rejected for a kiss from James. Boy, that sucks.

During the long walk back to the inn, Alison's thoughts grew darker and darker. At first, she was embarrassed that James had turned away, then she was confused; he had wanted it, hadn't he? He could have turned away a long time before that! Then, she let her temper get the best of her, thinking he had led her on. She knew that that wasn't his intention at all, but she felt some comfort in thinking the whole damn thing hadn't been her fault.

Anywho, so they got back to the inn. Gibbs, Cotton, Marty, Elizabeth, and Weatherby had been walking ahead after Alison and Norrington had stopped, and they were nowhere to be seen--Alison figured they had gone up to their rooms after their exhausting day.

Alison, now fully angry with Norrington, darted through the common room of the inn and up the stairs without a word to him.

"Alison, wait--" he said finally, following her up to her room, but she slammed the door behind her.

Plopping down on the bed, Alison was left alone with her thoughts--Elizabeth, she assumed, was still with her father. She knew it was stupid of her to just shut Norrington out just because he didn't want to kiss her, but...

God! she thought angrily, seizing her pillow and punching it furiously. Why are all men so stupid?!

You're being stupider than he is, a voice reasoned inside her head.

Alison scowled and threw the pillow back onto the bed, resting her elbows on her knees and dropping her head in her hands. She hated it when the hard but sensible reasoning made itself clear--it was so much easier just to stay angry with him!

Or was it?

In the weeks after her father's death, Alison remembered that her primary emotion had been anger--anger at whoever had done it, anger at whatever god/goddess/deity/whatever had deemed his time on Earth as ending so abruptly, even anger at her father for working late that night in the first place.

But she had realized that the anger got her nowhere. She later wished that she hadn't wasted all that time feeling mad at things she couldn't control.

But she also knew that being angry at that time of crisis in her life had helped make her who she was today.

Not that she had anger management issues or anything. No, she just let her temper get the best of her in certain situations.

...Which leads us back to where we were when I started blabbering about her father's death.

On with the story!

Alison, in thinking about all this, had slowly picked up her pillow and hugged it tightly against her chest. It was only then that she realized the tears rolling down her face.

Furious, she wiped them away quickly. She hated crying--it seemed like a weakness to her.

But then again, so did showing too much of any emotion. Except for anger, of course.

Alison also hated being alone with her thoughts, because that made her think too much about herself and how screwed up she was.

Luckily, she wouldn't be alone for much longer.

"Watcha gonna do with all that dirt, all that dirt inside that jar? Imma get get get get your heart, get your damn heart--"

"Are you singing about my late jar of dirt?"

Monica squeaked in singing her rendition of "My Humps" by the Black Eyed Peas, having previously thought that she was alone. She smiled sheepishly up at Jack as he joined her at the side of the small ship.

"Yep, sure was!" she answered brightly, pleased just to have Jack back at her side. Happily reminiscing about "the good ol' days," she almost didn't hear Jack as he spoke again.

"So, when am I getting the Pearl back?"

Startled, Monica tore her eyes away from the sun setting on the horizon. They were already a day within arriving at Port Royal, and Monica had been pretty preoccupied with hopes of seeing her sisters again. "Uhh...I don't know," she said lamely. "I was kinda hoping you'd have some idea as how to get it back..." She trailed off, looking hopefully up at him.

"Oh, I know how to get it back," Jack said, smirking out at the sea. "That'll be easy. It's the how I'm going to get it back that worries me."

Monica frowned, turning his words over in her mind to see if he had said what she thought he had said. Then she nodded slowly and said, "Oh, I see...you know how to get it, but you just don't know how it is we're gonna go about doing whatever it is we need to do to do it."

Jack stared at her. "You're not makin' any sense at all," he said, frowning.

Monica shook her head. "Whatever. Just lemme in on the plan, Cap'n."

Jack gave her one last suspicious look before speaking. "All I have to do is barter with Jones to get the Pearl back," he began.

"Oh, that'll be easy," Monica said, rolling her eyes.

Jack appeared not to notice the sarcasm in her words. "It's finding Jones that will be difficult," he continued.

"Can't you use your compass?" Monica asked curiously.

Jack shook his head. "I don't fully trust it...it's been acting dodgy lately..."

"Tia Dalma?" Monica suggested, remembering how she had led Jack and Will to the Flying Dutchman in Dead Man's Chest.

"I'm sure she'd be willing to help us out...would you like to be her payment?" Jack asked dryly.

"Nah, we've met; I don't think she liked me enough to accept me as a gift," Monica said seriously.

Jack raised his eyebrows as if he were going to ask something, but then he apparently decided he didn't want to know, because he said, "I suppose there's always that bloody monkey..."

"If we can catch it," Monica mused. "Plus, Barbossa'd probably be pissed if we sold his pet."

"Yes, well, Barbossa's not really in a place to--"

Jack and Monica both dawned on the same idea at the same time. "Barbossa!"

Michelle and Will were struggling to find something, anything they could use to break out of the brig with, but it seemed that any time they got anywhere, they were forced to stop. For example, the one time Will found an old, barnacle-covered nail he thought he could pick the lock of his cell with, a couple crewmembers came to check on them. Will had been hard at work shoving the nail into the lock, but when he heard the two creatures coming, he had to pull it out again--which broke the nail in the process. It seemed that anything that stayed on the ship for too long would turn more barnacle than human.

Which was slowly happening to Will's father, Michelle knew. But that only made her more determined to break out of that hellhole and rescue him.

Bootstrap, Michelle noticed, never came down on one of the random inspections to check on the prisoners. She was pretty sure they just didn't want him trying to help them, but a part of her owrried that it was because he was hurt...or worse.

With these dark thoughts accompanying her, all she could do was concentrate on breaking out of there--and hopefully after that, she and Will would be able to rescue Bootstrap, and then maybe she'd be reunited with her sisters.

She hoped she didn't have to wait out the rest of her time there to see them again.

As soon as she heard the knock on her door, Alison knew it was Norrington, so of course she didn't respond. When he knocked louder and called softly, "Alison?" she just rolled her eyes and turned her back to the door.

I hope he doesn't try to barge in, she thought suddenly. With that thought, she rose quietly and crept to the door, not wanting Norrington to hear her at all. When she reached the door, she locked it--no, wait, it had already been locked...now it was unlocked.

Unfortunately for Alison, that moment was the moment Norrington decided to try the handle.

As the door opened, Alison furiously tried to close it again, but Norrington proved too strong for her, even with having recently been shot. He pushed his way into her room, and she backed away, not wanting to be near him.

"What the hell are you doing?!" she yelled angrily as he entered her room.

"Didn't think it would be open," Norrington said, looking surprised.

"It wasn't," Alison snarled. Before Norrington could falsify this statement, Alison continued, "Now, will you just leave?"

With this last word she pushed his chest, backing him out of the door. But Norrington wasn't about to give up that easily.

He pushed forward, sending Alison easily back. This only made her angrier, and she pushed with all her might against his chest, only getting a surprised look from him.

"Easy, easy--ow!" he yelped as she kicked his shin.

"I said get out!" Alison roared.

"Hang on, I only want to--"

"Go!"

Norrington finally relaxed and let her push him out of her room. "What can I do to make you listen to me?" he asked exasperatedly before she could slam the door in her face.

"You can--oh--nothing!!" Alison said, getting madder by the second. One look at Norrington's face and she saw that he was actually amused by her anger.

Alison let out a frustrated groan/roar/scream thingy and slammed the door, only to have it catch on Norrington's foot.

Howling with pain, Norrington jumped back, limping on his wounded leg, which had now been kicked and caught in the door. Alison laughed derisively, even though she felt pretty bad for the guy.

"Wot the 'ell is goin' on 'ere?!" a voice yelled. Alison and Norrington turned to see the innkeeper standing in the hall, looking furious.

When neither of them answered, the innkeeper grumbled, "If you're gonna fight, take it outside. I can't 'ave ya upsettin' the other guests."

"Don't worry, he was just leaving," Alison said, glaring up at Norrington, who rolled his eyes.

"Oh, enough," he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her down the hallway.

"Hey--let me go!" Alison shouted, smacking his arm, but to no avail.

"You wanna help me out here?" she asked the innkeeper darkly as she and Norrington passed, but he just looked happy that the fighting couple was leaving his inn.

As soon as they were outside, Norrington released his hold on Alison's arm. She immediately tried to make a run for it, but he just pulled her back to him and kissed her.

Yeah, that's right, he planted a big one.

After he broke the kiss, Alison asked, "What was that for?", her head spinning.

"That was so you would listen to me," he said, looking into her eyes nervously.

"Well, it worked," Alison grumbled, breaking away from him angrily...as much as she wanted to remain in his arms. "That couldn't have happened earlier tonight?" she asked irately.

"That's what I want to talk to you about," Norrington said quickly, as if afraid Alison would fly off the handle again.

"Right," Alison grumbled. "I'll bet you just wanted a pop."

"What?"

"Nevermind." Alison pulled her thick blond hair back from her face, trying to cool herself in the humid night. "Just...talk."

"Oh...okay," Norrington said somewhat stupidly, clearly taken aback from Alison's abruptness. "Well...I'm sorry I didn't kiss you earlier," he began, looking up to the sky as if too nervous to look at her. "I suppose I...wasn't ready...I just kept thinking about the last time I gave my heart away, and how well that turned out..."

Alison glanced at him and saw that he was looking abashedly at the ground, wringing his hands slightly. He continued.

"I just find it hard sometimes to, you know...be open with my feelings," he said, looking up at the inky sky again. "Before, when I was Captain, and then Commodore...I never really showed much emotion...then I became this cold, dry shell trying to get my old life back...and now I'm stuck between that and becoming someone new, and I'm just afraid who--"

Alison walked up to him, seized him by his coat, and kissed him hard.

"What was that for?" he asked when she was done.

"To get you to shut up," she said, grinning. "It took a lot of guts to say all that stuff, after what you've been through--"

At that thought, she paused and remembered that he had been shot earlier tonight.

"Whoops," she muttered. "Come on, let's get you upstairs."

Norrington looked shocked. "Well, if you say so--" he began, a mischeivous glint in his eye.

"Don't get too excited; I just want to have a look at that arm of yours," Alison said, grinning.

And they walked hand in hand back up to his room.

"Do you think Jones would actually come if Barbossa was about to kick the bucket?" Monica asked Jack nervously.

"Why not?" Jack replied, but Monica noticed a hint of apprehension in his voice.

"I don't know--maybe he doesn't count because he's, like, back from the dead," Monica suggested.

"Well, if this doesn't work, at least we won't feel bad in giving his damn monkey to Tia Dalma again!" Jack said brightly.

Monica gave him a weak smile, but she wasn't very reassured--she didn't want to kill anybody.

"Do you think maybe when we get to Port Royal we'll find someone who's already close to death so we don't have to do it?" she asked Jack hopefully.

Jack laughed. "Right. Port Royal isn't Tortuga, love."

Monica sighed and stared at the approaching docks. In the few days that had passed from when they had left her would-be death island to now, she had felt extreme anxiety about the whole "killing Barbossa" deal.

"Here's the plan," Jack said to Pintel and Ragetti, who had just joined him and Monica. "When arrive at Port Royal, we pick up ol' what's-her-face and her motley crew, then we hop on a ship and sail the bejeezus out of here. When we're far enough out into the open ocean, we wound Barby down there and then bang! There's Jones. Then it's just a matter of finding the heart, rescuing two or three people, and bargaining for my soul and my ship with the keeper of the locker of the depths. And, of course, most of this will probably be conducted under heavy fire."

Jack turned to look at his tiny crew, which consisted of two stooge pirates and a fifteen-year-old girl from the future who had an odd knowledge of his life.

"Who's with me?" he asked confidently as if he hadn't just described the mission from doom.

"Me!" Monica said excitedly. Pintel and Ragetti looked at each other uneasily as Jack left to sail the Jolly Roger into the Port Royal docks.

Michelle and Will still hadn't figured out a way to get out of the brig of the Flying Dutchman--not for lack of trying, of course, but there just seemed to be no way out.

They had stopped talking to each other. They were both too focused on trying to get out of there to think of anything to say.

Michelle didn't know about Will, but she slowly found herself losing hope. If they waited too long, Jones would eventually figure out that Will still had his heart, and he would surely kill them both. On the other hand, if they did escape, what would happen? They could stab the heart, true, but they had no idea what would happen. And perhaps that destroyed the crew as well? They had to find some way to save Bootstrap.

Plus, they didn't know if Barbossa, Pintel, Ragetti, and Monica had succeeded in their mission of rescuing Jack. Jack still needed the heart as leverage to barter with Jones for the state of his soul, not to mention the Black Pearl.

So if they couldn't stab the heart, what then? They had no weapons, no way of fighting their way off the ship--and if they managed to do that, there was just the vast ocean to deal with--and the kraken.

Yeah, I'd be a little down in the dumps if I were her, too.

But just as these feelings were starting to bring her down, Will was coming up with a plan that might change all her negative thoughts.

The next time food was brought to our heroes in the brig, Will surprised Michelle and the two lackeys with a demand.

"I want to see Jones," he said suddenly, making everyone in the room stare at him.

Hammerhead, who was delivering Will's food to him, sneered. "Do you, now?" he asked condescendingly as the guy behind him laughed.

They both shut up as the now-familiar steps of the captain of the Flying Dutchman came closer to the brig.

Michelle felt the blood drain out of her face as she glanced at Will. He looked determined, so that comforted her somewhat--but she still thought he had snapped.

When Jones entered the brig, Will didn't allow him to make a menacing statement.

"I'd like to make a deal with you," he said immediately, looking almost pathetic huddling in a corner of his cell compared to Jones, who was standing at his full height in front of the cell, the top of his hat nearly brushing the ceiling.

Michelle couldn't see Jones's face, as his back was to her, but she heard the surprised note in his voice: "A deal, Mr. Turner? What makes you think I'd let you bargain with me?"

Will didn't back down, but instead continued talking as if he hadn't heard Jones's statement. "I want you to raise the Black Pearl from the depths for us," he said, staring up at Jones steadily. "You'll then let us go, and then you can give us a fair chance to live."

Jones started laughing, and the two crewmembers joined in, too. Michelle watched on in shock, wondering what had gotten into Will--did he really mean to--?

"I hardly think you're in a position to bargain with me--" Jones began between chuckles.

"I know where the heart is," Will interrupted, and Michelle felt like a a linebacker had just slammed into her. "If you do as I wish, I'll tell you where it is."

Jones was silent for a moment, and Michelle wished she could see his face so she could figure out what he was thinking--but she didn't have to wonder for long.

"You lied to me, you filthy little--!" he roared, throwing himself at the bars of Will's cell. Michelle gasped as he slammed his giant claw into the iron over and over.

Finally, he appeared to compose himself, releasing the bars of the cell and taking a shaky step back. Drawing himself back up to his full height, he said in a low voice, "Very well."

He turned around to face Michelle in her cell, and she swallowed hard, trying to stay calm in light of what had just happened.

"Maybe this will help you to remember your place," Jones hissed, unlocking and throwing open the door of Michelle's cell, seizing the front of her burnt orange University of Texas shirt, and dragging her out of the cell.

Through her fear, Michelle heard Will's voice. "She doesn't know where it is! There's no point--"

"She may not know where it is, but you will surely tell me to save her some pain!" Jones yelled, smacking Michelle's face with his claw. As she let out a cry of pain, she felt a little blood run down her cheek.

She wasn't sure if this strengthened her or just made her more reckless. Bracing her bare feet against the wooden floor, she glared up into Jones's face.

"Are you so eager to find that heart because you're afraid for your life, or because it reminds you of her?" she asked quietly, her eyes narrowing.

Jones's expression changed from fury to shock in a matter of seconds. Staring off into space, he released Michelle's shirt, dropping her heavily onto the ground, where she painfully propped herself onto her elbows.

Jones walked over her to the doorway, where he paused for a moment as he listened to his two crewmembers scramble to lock Michelle back into the cell. As the two of them joined him, he turned to Will and said in a hollow voice, "I'll have your ship by sunrise."

Alison was busy cleaning James's gunshot wound on his bed in his room. Nothing dirty there, folks...well, not yet, anyway. :D

"Sit still!" she ordered him, rolling his sleeve up a bit more so she could wipe the blood away from his arm.

James sighed exasperatedly and stopped squirming. As soon as Alison had sat him down to fix him up, he had started acting like a little boy.

"But it hurts," he whined, pouting pathetically at her.

"As cute as it is when you act like that, you need to shut up," Alison said gruffly, although she couldn't help smiling a bit. "Now..."

Biting her lower lip in concentration, she gently dabbed the wound with a rum-soaked cloth.

"Ow!" James said loudly, jumping enormously.

"What the--!" Alison threw the cloth on the floor in anger. "You idiot! What were you--"

"Relax, relax, I was kidding," James said, laughing. Alison looked up at his smiling face and smacked his arm.

"I was trying to help," she said angrily. "What, you want me to stop? 'Cause I will--"

"You're so cute when you're angry," James said, his eyes shining.

"It's probably that I'm angry when I'm cute," Alison muttered, but she couldn't stay mad at James. Well, not too mad, anyway. "Now keep your mouth shut and stay still when I'm trying to heal you."

"Oh, but how can I, when I have such a beautiful young woman to heal me?" James said mischeivously.

Alison shook her head in defeat. "Smoothie," she murmured, trying once again to clean the wound.

Just as she was about to touch his skin, the door slammed open.

"What the--?!" Alison yelled, ready to start a full-blown rant, but Norrington, who was facing the door (Alison had her back to it), looked concerned, so she turned around to see Cotton panting in the doorway, his parrot on his shoulder.

"What--" Alison began, but he motioned toward his parrot, who promptly squawked, "Mother's love!"

"Gibbs?" Alison asked. Cotton nodded, and motioned for them to come with him.

Within minutes, Alison and James were down in the common room of the inn, where Cotton was waiting with his parrot. Moments later, Elizabeth and Weatherby rushed down, looking like they had just woken up.

"Is everything all right?" Elizabeth asked, looking anxious. "Where are Gibbs and Marty?"

"For the love of mother and child!" Cotton's parrot squawked.

From watching Dead Man's Chest, Alison was prepared for the worst: the parrot had said, "Don't eat me!", which were very possibly the last screams of some poor pirate being eaten by cannibals. Now, she assumed it meant that Gibbs was in danger somewhere.

"Do you know where he is?" Alison asked Cotton, who shook his head but motioned toward the parrot again. Alison took this to mean that the parrot knew where Gibbs was.

"Let's go," James said, and the group headed out the door.

As soon as the door of the inn shut behind them, Cotton's parrot took off into the night, disappearing at times in the dark only to resurface again under some streetlight just ahead of them.

The group followed the bird in a jog, and Elizabeth commented that it seemed like it was heading toward the docks.

As they arrived, Alison drew her pistols, ready for a fight. She had been through a lot tonight, but she wasn't about to let Gibbs get hurt.

Suddenly, she heard voices. Instead of waiting any longer, she took off down the dock, twirling her pistols in her hands as she ran.

Skidding to a halt, she saw Gibbs--talking animatedly with Jack Sparrow.

Staring at the pair incredulously with her mouth slightly open, she barley noticed as James caught up to her, saying, "Alison! What were you--oh, great."

This sour addition apparently caught the attention of Jack, who turned toward them, frowning in confusion. When he finally registered that it was James Norrington who had made the comment, Alison distinctly heard him mutter, "Well, this just keeps getting better and better, now doesn't it?"

She then noticed two figures climbing down a rope ladder hanging on the ship behind Jack and Gibbs. When they reached the dock, they approached Jack and Alison was able to recognize them in the light of a nearby lantern: Pintel and Ragetti!

At that moment, Elizabeth, Weatherby, and Cotton had joined her and James. Cotton's parrot flew from its perch on a nearby crate back onto Cotton's shoulder.

"Is that...?" Weatherby began.

"Yes," Elizabeth said hoarsely.

Jack looked up at that moment and spotted Elizabeth. He froze for a moment, catching her gaze, but then when back to talking with Gibbs.

Elizabeth dropped her gaze to the ground, and then lifted her eyes up again, and Alison assumed that she was following Jack's lead and pretending nothing had happened--for now, at least.

But where was Barbossa--and her sister? She had expected her to be with Jack, as much as she appeared to love him, but she was nowhere to be seen.

She was soon relieved to see another figure climbing down the rope ladder, and she recognized it immediately as Monica's. On impulse, which was usual for her, she ran forward, intending to seize Monica in a huge bear hug.

Monica reached Jack before Alison could reach her, however. Alison watched curiously as Monica said to Jack, "Uh, we got a little problem here..."

She proceeded to whisper something into Jack's ear. Alison saw his eyes widen and knew something bad was up.

"WHAT?!" he yelled furiously at Monica, whirling around to face her.

"Don't get mad at me!" Monica said defensively. "I don't know how he got out!"

"What?!" Pintel and Ragetti yelped in unison, joining Jack to make a circle around Monica.

"Don't shoot the friggin' messenger!" Monica said, raising her hands in defense. "Can we please just find him already before he tries to kill us?"

"Barbossa's trying to kill you?" Alison asked incredulously. "You must have had an eventful trip..."

"Who's this?" James asked, having followed Alison again. "Besides the obvious answer of the filthy pirate who ruined my life."

"Dear old Norry, we already settled this: it was Turner who ruined your life," Jack said with a manipulative smirk.

"Play nice, boys," Alison said distractedly. "James, this is my sister Monica...oh, and this is Pintel, and Ragetti," she said, indicating each of them in turn.

"Uh, guys, this isn't a great time for pleasantries!" Monica said.

"Nice to meet you, too," James muttered.

"I don't think you get it--this guy is crazy!" Monica said anxiously, gesturing back up to the ship. "We have to find him and lock him up again!"

"Calm down, already! He can't have gone too far. There's no way he got off the ship without us noticing--either he would have attacked us by now, or we would have heard a splash," Jack said.

At that moment, there was a splash from the other side of the ship.

"I guess we found him," Monica said, looking surprised that he had actually jumped. Jack, however, looked skeptical.

"Go check if you see him," he said, nodding to Pintel and Ragetti, who hurried to do their latest captain's bidding.

"How could it not be him?" Monica asked, confused.

Before Jack could answer, Pintel and Ragetti came sprinting back, looking terrified.

"It was just a barrel!" Pintel squeaked.

Jack's hand immediately flew to his pistol, but a voice from the shadows made him stop.

"You didn't really think I'd take the coward's way out, did you?"

Alison drew, twirled, cocked, and raised her pistols to the direction Barbossa's voice was coming from in one fluid movement. James drew his pistol quickly, too, not to be outdone. Gibbs was unarmed and backed away slightly. Monica drew her sword, somehow managing not to fall over. Pintel and Ragetti drew their swords at the same time. Elizabeth froze at the voice--she and Weatherby had been walking towards the rest of the group.

Jack hadn't raised his pistol, but he spoke to Barbossa. "You're outnumbered. You can't win," he said, but Alison could tell that he wasn't to sure about that.

Barbossa emerged from the shadows, looking quite menacing. He already had his pistol raised, and it was pointed straight at Jack's chest.

"How did you escape?" Monica asked breathlessly, looking quite pale.

"Jack stole the keys," Barbossa said calmly, barely glancing at her. "After that, it was just a matter of waiting until you were all busy making ready to leave the ship...fortunately, I didn't have to wait long." At this, he gave an evil smile. "Though the distraction worked quite well--Jack pushed the barrel overboard; I had set it up earlier, before I left the ship.

"I could have just left then, but that, of course, would have meant that I would have to do without the pleasure of killing Jack Sparrow," Barbossa continued, his smile growing at this added statement.

Jack made a noise, and Alison was sure that he had been trying to correct Barbossa with a "Captain", but that fear had limited his ability to speak.

"Drop it," Alison snarled as Barbossa cocked his pistol.

Barbossa's eyes narrowed at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting," he said cordially, as if he hadn't just run through his diabolical plan to kill his enemy.

"I'd hardly call it a pleasure," Alison said steadily. "Now drop your gun...I don't want to shoot you, but I will if I have to."

Barbossa chuckled. "How noble! Not wanting to take the life of another human being?"

"No, I just don't want to waste a bullet on your sorry ass," Alison replied calmly.

Barbossa stared at her for a moment, then apparently decided he had more important things to worry about than rude strangers.

"Nice knowin' ya, Jack," he said. "Well, not really, but..." He shrugged, as if that were an excuse for what he was about to do. He aimed...

BANG!

Well, that's the second time that's happened to Barbossa. Just as he was about to shoot someone, he got shot himself.

And this time, it was by Elizabeth.

She had raised her pistol silently, not drawing attention to herself. She then had shot Barbossa in the forearm, making him drop his gun and cry out in pain.

She had saved Jack's life. Talk about redemption, eh?

As soon this surprising event had taken place, James had tackled Barbossa, knocking him to the ground. Jack had felt himself all over, looking for a wound, then pretended that he hadn't been frightened at all, saying, "Nice shot, Lizzie."

Elizabeth said nothing, but holstered her pistol. Alison thought she saw the glint of tears in her eyes.

Early the next morning, the heroes of Port Royal (minus Weatherby--Elizabeth had insisted that he stay behind; they had met people in the inn that were still loyal to him) had loaded onto the Jolly Roger, locking the wounded Barbossa in the brig, and were in the middle of the ocean, following the lead of Jack's compass. Yes, Jack had decided to try to trust it again--and if that didn't work, they always had Barbossa.

Monica and Alison had spent much of the previous night talking of their respective adventures, swapping stories and concerns about Michelle and Will. Monica was impressed to hear about Alison and James's defeat of Beckett--well, she was impressed about Alison and James in general! She hadn't seen that one coming.

Alison was amazed to hear that Monica had brought Pintel and Ragetti to the "good" side after hearing how Barbossa had turned on her. She was also interested in her relationship with Jack...she hadn't realized how much Monica enjoyed being with him.

Alison had tried talking to Elizabeth more now that she didn't have Weatherby to spend time with, but Elizabeth frequently gave the excuse that she simply wanted to be left alone. Although she felt bad for her friend, Alison decided that Elizabeth needed to sort her feelings out on her own...but not before letting Elizabeth know that she would always be there for her if she needed it.

Alison and James were happy together, also...but thinking about this only left a sick feeling of dread in her stomach, because she knew she couldn't stay with him. But she mostly tried to push those thoughts of her mind.

Anyway, that morning, Monica was creeping around the deck of the ship. She hadn't been able to sleep; there was a sense of uneasiness within her that she hadn't been able to shake. She knew something big was about to happen--she just wished she knew if it was something good or bad.

So she came above deck, trying to stay quiet and let the others get their sleep. The sun was just rising, and she took a deep breath of the cool, salty air as she watched the bright colors of the sun slowly spread against the inky sky.

Her eyes scanned the horizon, picking up the changing colors of day. Pink, yellow, tan, black, orange--

Wait a minute, she thought. Tan and black?

She squinted against the bright colors, and, sure enough, there were two shapes: one tan, one black. She couldn't really make them out; they were pretty far away, and it hurt her eyes to look in the direction of the rising sun.

I must not have gotten enough sleep last night, Monica thought, sighing. Laying her forearms flat on the railing of the ship and resting her head sideways on her arms, she took another deep sigh as she watched the water beneath her.

When she looked up again, the shapes were even nearer--Jack had taken his place at the helm and was taking advantage of the morning winds. Frowning, she went up to Jack, glancing over her shoulder to make sure the shapes were still there.

As she approached him, he let out a huge yawn, gripping the wheel with one hand to steady himself and making a halfhearted attempt to cover his wide-open mouth with the other.

"Hey, Jack," Monica said distractedly, peering out at the horizon.

"Hey, what?" Jack replied, smacking his mouth to try to relieve it of dryness. "I need some bloody rum..."

"Is your compass by any chance leading us in a general that way direction?" Monica asked pointing. "Well, besides from the fact that it could be pointing at me," she teased.

"Very funny," Jack muttered. He flipped the compass open, squinted in the direction Monica was pointing, and said, "Yep. Why?"

"I think we've found the Dutchman," Monica said, adrenaline rising in her. "But that other ship looks like--"

"The Pearl," Jack breathed, staring off at it, wide eyed.