Disclaimer: I don't have permission to be writing this.

Author's Note (10/07/06): Well, technically, I was finished before midnight my time. Or, nearly finished. So I'm going to say I kept my promise. I don't like wet noodles, you see… Anyway, if you've no idea what I'm talking about, you can read The Token. Or not. Up to you. Either way, I'd like reviews. Speaking of which, I'll respond to those from last chapter tomorrow. Too tired right now.

Chapter Thirteen: The Cheese

"I hardly see how this is worth an entire crate o' Chinese silk," Jack grumbled. He was perched atop the famous Petra tou Romiou, the rumored birthplace of the goddess Aphrodite, staring out at the aquamarine Mediterranean. The dazzling waters contrasted with the white boulder and cliffs on the island of Cyprus. "I coulda gotten quite a nice profit on it." He sighed softly, tracing a few random patterns into the rock below him.

"I was not the one who asked me for my help." A finely dressed man sat near Jack, a contemplative look to his hazel eyes as he stared out towards the horizon. He was clearly a man of wealth because his clothes were remarkably free of any sort of dirt. He had a haughty look to his pale face and his thick eyebrows seemed to make him be perpetually scowling.

"Well, obviously not," Jack replied with a slight frown. "Be a bi' silly for ye t'-"

"This is one of those times where you must be quiet." Jack's companion, Sandro de Luca, turned to look at Jack sharply. "You know, like we talked of before?"

"Sorry," Jack muttered. He hardly looked repentant as he stared out towards the horizon once more. He had specifically requested that the Italian fencing master teach him how to handle a sword after the fiasco with Wasaki was sorted out. Sandro had agreed, but only on the condition that Jack give him his share of the plunder from the Meshaka. Jack considered it a fair trade up until all of this nonsense of becoming in tune with one's self. They had been staring out at the water for over three hours so far today.

The scenery was majestic. Of particular interest were the women on the beach. It was a pilgrimage many barren women made in an attempt to appease the fertility goddess born here. Jack wondered if it worked for them to go swimming in the water. He wanted to go question a few of them, because some took their clothes off to be more in touch with the goddess of love to perhaps absorb some of her greatness. It was an interesting notion.

Near the beach was a goat herder watching fourteen goats. The animals ranged in color from white to black and seemed terribly interesting as well. Jack had often heard about the cheese derived from the milk of goats and suddenly wanted to try some. It was a pity he didn't want to further aggravate the master at his side. He made a mental note to ask around town for goat's cheese.

"I often 'ad a hard time keeping me head on one thought at a time," Jack remarked thoughtfully. "Silence isn' always the best thing fer me."

Pearl jumped slightly, startled at the sound of Jack's voice. "I can tell," she remarked dryly. "You like to throw comments in all the time, regardless of whether they're important or not."

"Do you realize 'ow much you seem t' shift moods?" Jack asked exasperatedly. "I'm making this statement fer a reason. Sometimes, I make decisions I regret later because I decide somethin' wivout thinking it entirely through. Like the day I died. I left like a coward because tha' was me first impulse. When I actually thought of it, I decided what was better."

"Well, if you hadn't left, they'd all be dead now. You brought back the only means of transportation."

"Not intentionally."

"You're supposed to say that it was. Remember, you're trying to argue the fact that you need to be back on earth."

"I thought it was guaranteed." Jack sighed softly.

"Not necessarily." Pearl looked at her hands. "Please, Jack, we've a lot to cover and this isn't entirely the most interesting part of your life."

"I'm sorry," Jack apologized, though he didn't really mean it. Wasn't this supposed to be some sort of commentary on his past? Perhaps he'd done something to offend his hostess.

Sandro shifted his weight uncomfortably on the rough rock. It was the first time he'd moved anything other than his head in the hours he'd been sitting there. His breathing had been so rhythmic as to nearly put Jack to sleep. "Do you feel ready to beat me?" he queried as he looked towards Jack.

"What?" Jack's eyes widened in slight alarm. It was true that he was better parrying blows than before, but there was no way he could match Sandro's speed.

"Do you feel ready to conquer me?" Sandro smiled very slightly. "Have you thought the battle out in your mind?"

"Tha's impossible," Jack practically scoffed.

"No it isn't." Sandro slowly stood, wiping at his fine clothes with grand sweeping gestures of his hairy hands. "You cannot win a battle if you do not win it in your mind."

"Is tha' supposed t' make sense?" Jack asked tiredly as he stood as well. He could hardly feel his left leg from the hours of sitting without movement.

"Have you learned nothing with silence?" Sandro sounded disappointed. "I thought you were an apt pupil, Jack Sparrow, but I now see you aren't."

"Captain Sparrow," Jack muttered proudly. He liked hearing his new title with his name. It sounded better now than it had during his games as a child. "I did learn tha-"

"You have learned nothing." Sandro glared at his pupil for a moment. "However, we have no more time to contemplate the silence. I have a ship to catch in a few weeks and your stubbornness will make it impossible for me to teach you anything if we do not start now."

Jack frowned. "I ain't stubborn," he insisted, reaching for one of the sticks they were using to train with. Jack had been rather uneasy about training with a master swordsman with actual swords because the cuts he'd received from the crew of the Meshaka still hurt from time to time. He'd been relieved when Sandro produced two sticks for them to learn the basics with. "I want to know."

"Sometimes I wonder if you truly do." Sandro sighed and pulled his sword from his sheath. The fencing master favored a heavy sabre, which was somewhat unusual. Most fencing masters favored the épée, a type of sword developed nearly two centuries previously. As the object in fencing was to show off one's skills rather than to actually kill another person, the épée wasn't terribly lethal. It had a round guard, to protect the hands of the fencer, and could range from quite heavy to ridiculously light in weight. While using the épée to fence, a man could strike anywhere on his opponent's clothes to win points. Sandro's sabre, however, was large. It was designed to easily cut and had a curved guard for the hand and a triangular blade, based vaguely off the scimitar. A fight between two masters with sabres could be quite aggressive indeed. Only strikes above the waist would be counted during a scored match. Watching two skilled men fence was quite graceful.

Jack paled at the sight of the sword. "No more wood?"

"No more wood," Sandro confirmed. "It is time that you get to know the weight of your blade, get to know how she sings and how much force you need to use."

Jack slowly set the stick down and tentatively pulled his own sabre out of his sheath. He'd bought it when first reaching Cyprus with the intent of learning to fight on his own. It was only by chance that he'd found Sandro fighting his way out of a tavern during the middle of a barroom brawl. He'd been impressed by how Sandro had rendered his foes unconscious but had not killed them when he so easily could. He'd waited until the fight ended and went in, ordering Sandro a drink of zivania. After a lengthy conversation in which Jack nearly drooled due to the highly alcoholic drink, they'd struck up a bargain.

"Do not fear, Captain Sparrow," Sandro said condescendingly. "I shall not kill you. If I were to, I would not get my crate of silk."

"I hardly find tha' reassuring."

Sandro smiled and then bowed towards Jack. "We shall practice the basics I have already taught you. Have you been practicing them?"

"A bit." Jack slowly bowed back. Every fencing bout and lesson was started and ended with a salute like this. The opponents would show off their blade so that their foe could see the length and make of the sword to ensure fairness. Jack obviously wouldn't be doing his enemies a favor like that in the midst of battle. He shook his leg until the painful tingling stopped and it woke up.

"We shall soon see if you are lying." Sandro smiled very slightly before advancing. "Let us test your legwork, Captain." He stepped to the right, pleased to see Jack mirror his move. "It appears you have been practicing," he said appreciatively.

"As I said, a bit." Jack moved his foot and very nearly toppled to the ground. Fortunately, he'd developed an odd sense of grace to accompany his clumsiness. He avoided falling, but Sandro laughed at him nonetheless. "Thanks," he muttered.

"Have you always been so sure of your footing?" Sandro advanced on him, brandishing his sword this time.

"No." Jack parried the blow, grateful that Sandro was going slower now than he had with the sticks. "I used to be quite a great deal more clumsier."

Sandro laughed at that, giving Jack ample opportunity to slash at him. He only just parried in time. "You have surprising speed," he remarked.

"I surprise a lo' of people in different ways," Jack gloated. He stepped back slightly, letting his guard down as he was complimented.

Sandro flicked his wrist and cut Jack's arm. It wasn't a deep cut, but it certainly stung. "That is your next lesson. Pride is what kills many a man, Jack Sparrow."

"Ouch." Jack glared at the Italian master, stepping backwards. "Let's try tha' again," he insisted. The captain was anxious to learn as much as he could as fast as he could.

"First, I would like to point out what you've done well." Sandro moved his sword downward, so as to not pose a threat to his apprentice. "You distracted me, Jack Sparrow. That is a strength, so long as you can distract a man without distracting yourself."

"Er…thanks?" Jack wasn't sure how he could distract himself by distracting another man. It seemed contrary to logic to be able to do so. "So…is that it for t'day, then?"

"Hardly." Sandro smiled somewhat maliciously before raising his sword. "Come at me with the intent to injure me."

Jack paused for a moment. More than likely, he was about to be made a fool. He was grateful that no one was watching them atop this uneven rock. Sandro nodded his encouragement, so Jack raised his sabre and started towards the master.

Sandro easily avoided the attack. In one fluid movement, he moved his left foot forward and tripped Jack. He toppled and was staring up at the sky faster than he could think. "How did you bloody do that?" he asked as soon as the world stopped spinning so quickly. There were odd little flashes of light on Sandro's face that took a while to fade.

"You came at me with your shoulder, rather than your wrist." Sandro offered Jack his hand and helped the young man up. "It's wasted movement."

"Aye, bu' it feels like it will cause more pain." Jack rubbed at his shoulder, which had hit a rather sharp outcropping of the rock.

"It only takes a small twitch of a muscle to slice human skin, Jack. There is no need to expend more energy than necessary. That slows you down and makes you vulnerable to those who have learned this lesson." Sandro smiled very slightly. "If you're in the business of defending your life, it could mean death."

Jack nodded, clearly understanding that he needed to work on that. "So you strike with the wrist?"

"Yes." Sandro motioned Jack forward again. "Try once more. We'll see if you've learned your lesson or not." He took a defensive stance, waiting for the attack.

Jack nodded. He breathed deeply before raising his sabre. He lunged forward, flicking his wrist to move the blade to strike at his teacher. Sandro deflected it once more, but Jack was prepared for the foot that came out to trip him. He hopped to the right and then lunged forward once more. Sandro, hardly anticipating such a move, actually looked surprised as he parried that blow. "Very good," he remarked.

"I'm a quick learner." Jack smirked slightly and did a cross over, in which he put one foot behind the other. He advanced on the man and then attacked again.

"So it would seem," Sandro said above the metallic clank of their sabres. He feinted towards the left, causing Jack to completely overreact. Jack left his right side open and couldn't react fast enough to Sandro's flick of the wrist that resulted in a searing pain on his right side. He couldn't comprehend how it was that Sandro could move that fast, let alone think that fast.

"You ought t' come on my ship," he remarked as he stepped away, putting his free hand to his side and staring at the blood on his fingertips. "We could use a fighter like ye."

"No thank you, Captain Sparrow." Sandro smirked slightly, tilting his head to examine Jack's injury. "I believe that is enough for today."

"Why don' you want to come aboard the Wench?" Jack asked as he sheathed his sword. He was grateful that the lesson was over. He had business to attend to. The three hours spent staring out at the ocean had done nothing to get them accomplished.

"I'm not fond of traveling by sea. It is a necessary evil I must endure." He sheathed his sabre and tilted his head to crack his neck. He smiled in relief as the built up pressure disappeared with a satisfying pop.

"Why are you here, then?" Cyprus was a long way away for someone who didn't enjoy traveling.

"My wife is from here." Sandro looked distinctly uncomfortable for having relayed something that personal. "If there are no more personal questions, you are dismissed."

Jack chuckled softly. "Sorry." He bowed respectfully towards Sandro. "Thank you for the lesson."

"You're welcome, Captain." Sandro bowed back, turning and walking down the side of the rock towards town. Jack watched him for a moment. Once Sandro was safely out of view, he frowned and looked down at the cut on his side. It stung. "Bugger," he grumbled, rubbing his hand over it again. It seemed to be bleeding as much as the cuts he'd received the day Captain Odell died.

Shortly after Killian had tended to his cuts, Jack had found himself sitting at the desk in the captain's quarters with a piece of paper and a quill within easy reach. He needed to write a eulogy for those who had died, as he was now the captain and in charge of such grim tasks. Everything seemed so empty, especially when he realized that Odell truly was dead. He'd lost a close friend. Tannar had lost a leg. Keaton had a nasty cut near his eye that seemed to be getting infected already. Billy had lost most of his ear and part of his head from a cannonball. Odell had been there, and then he'd been gone and it just didn't seem to be fair. He had cried for the first time in years.

Time seemed to crawl along like an overweight feline, dragging itself along the floor until they reached Cyprus. Life seemed to begin anew and Jack had decided he wanted to learn how to save himself, rather than watch those he cared about save his life. If he'd just had lessons before the attack, he wouldn't have watched Odell die. Perhaps part of what spurred him to take corrections from Sandro was the fact that he felt guilty.

Cursing softly, he started making his way down the rock, careful to not fall as he did so. Once he was down on the stable green earth, he started walking towards the goat herder, anxious to learn a bit more about the curious animals grazing the grass. He carefully sauntered his way past a large black goat staring at him before approaching the goat herder.

"Hello," he greeted warmly as the person turned to look at him. He was rather surprised to see a pair of green eyes belonging to a woman looking him over. "Do you speak English?" he asked with a smirk.

"I speak little," she said, her voice sounding as sweet as a puffed pastries. She smiled back, removing her hat to scratch her sweaty scalp. It made her blondish-brown hair dance like a waterfall. She had a small braid in her hair that had a blue bead that matched her outfit. It had to be terribly annoying to wear a hat all day standing in the sun. "You need?"

"I was wondering if you knew where to get the best goat cheese, actually." He was trying not to stare at her. Something about her simplicity was terribly appealing, not to mention the fact that she was well-endowed and had a pleasing visage.

"Cheese?" She visibly brightened. "Come, come!" With that, she grabbed his hand and led him towards a white goat standing near an outcropping of rocks that resembled tall spires. "Morgan has the best," she explained. The she-goat, known as a doe, looked up at the sound of her mistress's voice. She looked fairly content with life and seemed larger than any of the other does around.

"I don' mean milk," Jack clarified, tilting his head as he examined the unusual looking animal. She seemed content with her lot in life to just eat, sleep, and breed. How many others are the same way?

"I know." The woman laughed softly. "Her milk is good cheese. I have some." She pointed to where they'd just been. There was a small cloth wrapped around something lying on the grass.

Jack looked to where she was pointing. He laughed and turned to look at her again. "Then why did you bring me t' Morgan?"

"She's my favorite." She smiled and then took his hand, leading him back towards the knoll where she'd been standing. Once there, she took the cheese out of the cloth and handed him a small piece. "Feta."

Jack eyed the white cheese and then casually sniffed it, a bit taken aback by its distinctive smell. Never one to back down from a challenge, he put the foreign cheese into his mouth and started chewing.

"You like?" the woman asked a bit anxiously. Morgan bleated anxiously and several of the other goats responded with similar noises.

Jack's expression was quite indecipherable at the moment as he decided whether or not he liked it. "Aye," he finally said after swallowing it. "I like it."

"Good, good." She smiled at him before turning anxiously towards where Morgan was standing. "I go now."

"I don't even know your name, though," Jack protested as she started walking towards the outcropping. He followed her, unwilling to let her disappear without him so much as thanking her.

"Name is Sidonia." She didn't even look at him as she said that, clearly determined to reach her favorite goat. Once she reached the doe's side, Sidonia gently patted the goat's large belly and the knelt next to her.

"Sidonia, eh?" Jack followed her to where she was, leaning against one of the rocks to watch what she was doing. "I'm Jack." She said nothing in response, so he merely watched her go about her work. "What are you doing?"

"Kidding." She seemed intensely concentrated on Morgan, gently patting her and murmuring comforting words in her own tongue.

Jack tilted his head slightly. "Wha's so funny about this?" It became clear what she meant a few moments later. A small head appeared near Morgan's tale and Jack suddenly felt quite woozy. As small goats were called kids, it made sense that birthing a kid would be called kidding. "Oh."

Morgan started bleating again as the kid fell down onto the soft grass. Sidonia smiled, watching the doe gently start to clean her offspring. A few minutes later, Morgan stopped what she was doing and started bleating once more. The small kid on the grass was joined by two more siblings before Morgan ate the placenta to replenish some of the nutrients she'd lost. Morgan sat down on the grass and her kids snuggled up next to her, shivering at the cold and new world.

Once Sidonia had inspected each kid to make sure there were no deformities, she wiped her bloodied hand on her apron and then turned her head to look at Jack. She seemed surprised to see him still there. "You want cheese?"

"Oh…no. I jus'…that was fascinating." He was staring at the kids, stunned. They'd come into existence in front of his very eyes. "How long have you been doing this, Sidonia?" he asked as he looked at her.

"All my life." She smiled slightly, patting Morgan before standing. "What you do?" Her eyes had such a refreshing sweetness and innocence to them that Jack had a hard time doing anything but look into them.

"I'm a captain." A smile stole across his face. "I own a ship."

Her eyes widened at the thought of that. "You must be very rich."

"Not particularly." He wasn't entirely sure where that modesty came from, but he felt no desire to make himself seem something he wasn't in front of this very honest young woman. "Thank you for the cheese, Sidonia."

"Thank you." She smiled and gently kissed him on the cheek. "I have more cheese tomorrow."

"I'll be sure to stop by." He made a quick mental note to bring something of his own to share with her. He tenderly touched her hand and then bowed. "Good day, Sidonia."

"Goodbye." She looked slightly saddened before turning her attention to the kids. They would have to be given names. Plus, she had to make sure the billy goats were acting appropriately. Some of them were in rut and rather hard to control.

Jack watched her silently for a moment before heading off towards the town. He could hardly wait until he got to meet her again. Who knew that such a simple goat herding maiden could be so intriguing?

"Do you know what the name Sidonia means in Greek?" Pearl asked curiously, surprised that Jack hadn't said anything at all since she'd been a bit short with him.

"To ensnare." Jack looked at Pearl and laughed. "Very fitting name, I mus' admit."

"How did you know that?" she asked curiously.

"I speak a smattering of Greek." He shook his head and glanced towards the beautiful maiden frozen in time. "Those days were such a breath o' fresh air. Seemed like the storms would never come back."

"Obviously they did."

"Aye. Ye know something bad is about t' happen if everything seems t' be going according to plan. Generally, the better life is, the worse it becomes in a short amount of time."

"It's all for your benefit. You wouldn't be who you are now if you didn't lose a few people close to you or see something you didn't want to see."

"I suppose." The captain seemed oddly melancholy. "Tha's enough talking, innit? Le's get on wiv the show so ye can get back to whatever it is ye were doin' in me head before this started."

"You have such a way with words." Pearl frowned. There really wasn't time to get into an argument, though. There were still nearly twenty years to cover and each year seemed to get progressively more complicated in his life. Of course, the more complicated they became, the more interesting they were as well. "On with the show, then."