Come What May

A/N: I am so, so sorry it's taken me this long to review! I've just haven't been motivated to write lately, particularly this chapter. This is a filler chapter and it wasn't fun to write, and this is only half of the orginal chapter, I'm going to post the other half separately since this just kept getting longer and longer.

I hope everyone enjoys and I will do my best to update soon because I want to see what will happen with Helen, Will, Elizabeth and the rest of the gang. So everyone enjoy and pretty please review. I love you all and thanks for sticking with the story.

It is a beautiful sight, the predawn before morning. When the sky is still an inky, grey hue and stars dot the endless horizon. There is a peacefulness that settles over the waves and a silence that is calm and tender. The air has a slight chill to it and a thin mist dances over the ocean. In only a few moments the brilliant sun will rise and the day will begin.

It was a moment just like this that the Fancy was sailing through. A calm had settled over the water and the waves of the glistening Caribbean Sea were gently lapping against the Fancy's majestic hull. Several blazing white seagulls where soaring over the sky as they dove down towards the water seeking out juicy prey.

The Fancy's white sails were lightly billowing in the predawn breeze that was propelling the ship northward. The deck was nearly deserted except for crazy ol' Maurice who stood guard at the helm, his knarred hands steadily gripping the wooden wheel. He was muttering to himself under his breath in a same crazed expression as one Joshamee Gibbs had been known to do.

Only one sound broke the stillness that had descended upon the pirate ship, and it was the faint clanking of metal against metal. The sounds themselves were coming from the main deck where two figures stood face-to-face, dueling one another.

Those two figures happened to be First Mate Jehan and Mrs. Helen Turner. If any civilized human being where to come upon this fight they would have been absolutely appalled at the sight of Mrs. Turner. She wore trousers and a loose fitting shirt with her hair swept up behind her. But even worse than the display of impropriety was the fact that Mrs. Turner held a sword in her hand and was fighting with it.

Yes, Helen Turner was dueling a vicious pirate, and she seemed to be enjoying it. It had been at Jehan's suggestion several weeks prior that he teach Helen the art of sparring. He had received quite the shock, when on their first day Helen had showed an already extensive knowledge of sword play. He had been impressed that her husband had already taught her the basics of sword fighting, and that he had taught her well.

She had a good form and quick reflexives. She was light on her feet and was a speedy mover. But, she too did have her flaws. She had a tendency to over-think her movements and he noticed that she did a good deal of hesitating as well. Her husband had taught her how to defend herself, but not how to kill. She would need to know both to survive in the brutal and cruel world of piracy.

When they had first begun Helen had still been shaken up from the Embargo incident and it had showed in their dueling. She never charged Jehan, but let him come to her. She would have to be more aggressive to survive in a true fight. She was a tactful fighter, but she had needed to learn to play dirty as any true pirate knew how to.

So Jehan had been training her mornings and nights to fine tune and enhance her already impressive skills. He had brought her fighting up to a whole new level and Helen had found it all so exciting. Will had been a marvelous teacher, but she was getting firsthand advice from a real pirate. Over the last few weeks her skills had come a long way and she was now proving it as she and Jehan amicably dueled one another.

Clank.

The scrapping of swords echoed across the waves as Helen quickly ducked a swift blow from Jehan. She raised her sword and struck for his shoulder as she shoved him back a few feet to keep the first mate at bay. She sucked in a deep breath and wiped her brow before diving back into the action.

It was a flurry of movement as the two charged each other, each moving faster than the other. A spectator would have been thrilled and breathless watching the two. It seemed as if every movement was perfectly harmonized with the other as they attacked fiercely. Helen wasn't even thinking anymore, she was acting on pure, animalistic instinct. Her brain had faded away and she was relying on her gut feeling. But, she still kept her wits about her.

That was what had ruined her during the attack of the Embargo. She had thought too much and had let everything affect her, so that in the end all she had walked away with was a nasty scar and a lifetime of guilt. No longer would she ever be caught off guard like that again. Jehan had showed her to truly fight, not just to defend. It really was more than anything Helen could have ever hoped for.

But, in the end there must always be a loser for every fight. Jehan was more experienced than Helen in the art form of weaponry and it was his superior knowledge that allowed him to go in for the kill and to take Helen out. She gasped as she landed on the ground with a seriously bruised rump. She took in several deep breaths as her body felt dizzy and momentarily weak all over. She glared at Jehan as he chuckled from above her and offered her his hand.

She took it as the older pirate easily pulled the young woman to her feet. Helen placed her hands to her cheeks and wasn't surprised to feel heat radiating off them. She had worked up quite the sweat dueling Jehan and she knew that her appearance at best was flustered. She discreetly dared a sniff at her armpits and was alarmed when a rather foul order wafted up from them. She shook her head and grimaced as Jehan lightly tossed her a half empty bottle of rum. Helen scrunched up her nose as she glanced from the bottle to Jehan.

"Rum? Isn't it a bit early for rum? The sun hasn't even risen yet." she remarked as she nodded to the horizon. It was true; the sun had not yet risen into the sky. But the sky was already anticipating its arrival. Hues of pink, orange and lavender were dotting across the horizon. It promised a glorious sunrise.

"It's never too early for rum." Jehan countered as Helen shrugged and took a gulp of the alcohol. She ignored the way it burned her throat as it went down her pipes. It left her stomach with a warm feeling as she turned fully to look out at the sea, idly resting her elbows on the wooden railing.

"So, how did I do?" she asked indiscreetly as she fiddled with her bottle. She turned her emerald eyes towards Jehan as she anxiously waited for his criticism. She always took his opinion very seriously and always strove to prove to him that she was an able fighter. She needed to prove to someone aboard the Fancy that she was at least useful.

She had now been on the ship for nearly a month, and still the majority of the crew saw her as a nuisance. Sure, she was treated with the respect and dignity of that of a lady. No man attempted to touch her and the leering was kept to a minimum. She had friends and acquaintances aboard the ship. Manny stuck to her like white on rye, Louie and Leroy were always fun to go to for a laugh, Tristan was a sweet rogue, Remy was just sweet and Gaston…well, Helen avoided Gaston.

But it wasn't enough. No one truly believed her to be a pirate. Helen could see why. Not many pirates started out in life being a baker and wife from Port Royal. And Helen's standings hadn't improved since the Embargo incident weeks prior. Apparently, it wasn't seen as a very pirate-y thing to do to go off and cry after killing someone. Sure, some of the men had tried to comfort her (Manny), but the rest just saw her tears as weakness and proof that she wasn't meant to be one of them.

And all the people Helen needed to prove herself to, Jehan was one of the one's at the top of her list. He had taken her under his wing and was training her. It was a rare thing for Jehan to take an interest in an ordinary crew member. He kept his distance from the crew and when he was around them he wore a cold mask of indifference. So the fact that he was willing to teach Helen anything at all was heartening to her, and she didn't want to disappoint him.

Helen rocked on the balls of her feet as she waited for Jehan to speak. He glanced at her before turning his eyes to the horizon as he rubbed his chin in contemplative silence. He did this for several, long moments before turning fully to face the former baker.

"You have improved greatly in the short amount of time that I have been teaching you, but-" he said sharply when a wide grin had spread across Helen's now tan face. "There is always room for improvement."

"Of course!" Helen ecstatically agreed as Jehan stared at her for a moment before the left corner of his mouth turned up. Helen's smile only dimmed a little as the action reminded her of Will. He, too, had always handed out compliments with patient words of criticism. And he also had endured Helen's impatience with small, almost invisible smiles. She looked away from Jehan as she rubbed her hands together to regain circulation in her veins. Helen risked a glance to the horizon as she murmured, "It promises to be a beautiful sunrise."

Jehan followed her gaze as he nodded thoughtfully, "The best part of being surrounded by nothing means that sunrises and sunsets always mix with the sea."

Helen secretly agreed as a yawn overtook her. Her mouth opened so wide that it caused her eyes to close as she reached a hand to her mouth to stifle the action. When the yawn left, Helen stretched her arms as she looked up to the ever-lightening sky.

"As much as I love sunrises, I cannot help but wish this one were to come only a few hours later."

"Why do you say that?" Jehan asked as he watched his young charge with an amused expression in his grey eyes.

"Because if it were a few hours later I could go back to bed." Helen arose with the sun every morning to begin her duties, but now most mornings Jehan had her up before the sun to get in an hour or two of sword fighting. Helen loved every moment of it, but she was seriously beginning to miss those few extra hours of sleep that had been evading her recently.

Her answer caused a warm chuckle to escape from the first mate's mouth as he glanced around the still empty deck. He took a moment to overlook Helen and could see how tired she truly was. It only took him a moment to make up his decision.

"Just this once, and I mean truly just this once, I will excuse you from your morning duties and allow you a few extra hours of reprieve."

Helen blinked as she gaped at the first mate who was a stickler for rules. He was a staunch believer in order and discipline and yet he was allowing her to…sleep? What was going on here?

"B-But…but what about the Captain?" she disbelievingly asked. Jehan and Chevalle were as close as any captain and his first mate could be. They had known each other nearly their whole lives and had been through many adventures together. Even though she had not known Chevalle or Jehan long, she knew that the first mate did not like keeping things from his beloved captain.

But Jehan did not seemed worried or concerned at Chevalle's name. If anything the mention of the former aristocrat only made Jehan's amusement grow.

"I won't tell if you won't." he cheekily promised as Helen continued to gape at him while he turned on his heel and sauntered away. Helen watched him for several long moments before turning back around and looking out at the sea. The sky was now a brilliant, blazing orange as the peaks of the sun's rays pointed themselves out of the ocean. The sun would take its rightful place in the sky at any moment.

A warm, salty sea breeze swept past Helen as her jet, black hair went with it. She laughed joyfully as the wind leapt around her and continued out to sea. Helen let out a deep breath as she lightly stretched her hand out toward the sky, if only she could move closer…

It was then that an idea formed in her mind. Perhaps it was due to lack of sleep or to the dizzying sensation of rum, but Helen came up with the brilliant idea to climb up into the rigging and upward to the elusive crow's nest. Helen had never done this before, but she had seen many crew member of the Fancy before do it with ease. So without a thought Helen propelled herself into the unstable rigging and began climbing.

As she climbed higher and higher her figure disappeared into the seal of white sails. The wind was stronger up in the rigging as Helen constantly felt herself getting jostled about. Lucky for her she had firm footing, but she did stumble once or twice as she kept her eyes trained toward the crow's nest and not on the ever fainter deck below.

It took a long time to reach the crow's nest, but the moment Helen did she knew it had been worth it. She seated herself down with her back firmly pressed into the mahogany wood of the crow's nest. The sky, which had been a pale canvas of hues, was now alive with bright and brilliant colors that stretched across the skyline and wove themselves through the large, fluffy clouds. The sun had now risen fully into the sky and its golden rays warmed Helen's whole body as she felt her toes curling in her boots. Helen drank in the warmth of the sun as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes as she softly began to hum.

It was a familiar tune that had always brought a smile to her face whenever she had sung it. In her sleepy, muddled mind she could vaguely remember her and Elizabeth stumbling through the early morning singing this very tune while Will had looked on like a patient father. As Helen began to fall into the world of slumber she quietly sang the sound out loud.

"We're devils and sheep…and really bad eggs. Drink up me hearties yo ho. Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me."

Helen was now completely nodding off as her head felt heavy and she found that she couldn't support it. So as the sun rose ever higher in the sky, her head lulled to the side as strips of her dark hear fell across her cheeks.

"…a pirate's life for me…"

"It's hot."

"It's the Caribbean, what do ye expect?"

"Some shade from the sun would be nice, just saying."

"Well there isn't going to be any shade from the sun, so quit your whining and keep working!" Gaston growled to his two pirates-in-arms, Tristan and Remy. The three Frenchman had the unfortunate luck as to have the afternoon duty on the deck. It was near noon and the blazing Caribbean sun was causing blistering and sweltering heat to the crew of the Fancy.

Gaston was always known for his short temper, which became ever shorter during the hot summer months. So Tristan and Remy wisely stayed quiet for several long moments as the three continued about their duties. Several minutes past with no sounds except for grunting and muttering under one's breath. Finally, Gaston decided to speak.

"You know who I don't see enjoying in the day's work." Gaston remarked, though it came out more like a gutted growl.

"Who?" Remy asked while wiping his sweaty brow.

"Turner." Gaston's voice was now positively murderous as all three now realized that the female member of the crew was no where in sight. Remy and Tristan shared looks; they knew how much Gaston loathed Helen, and both knew that skipping her duties would not make her friends with the burly pirate.

"You would she think she was the queen of England, the way she struts around the deck." Gaston muttered as he clenched his hands into fists and the veins under his skin stood out appallingly against his tan skin.

"Constantly spending her time with the First Mate and the Capitaine; bragging on how she is a supreme sword fighter."

"She did beat you, you know." Tristan unwisely murmured, and he immediately regretted it as Gaston glowered at him.

"And also she thinks she's the greatest pirate who's ever lived just because she's claimed that she helped break the curse over Barbossa and his ship the Black Pearl."

"What," asked Remy as he leaned back in the sun, "you think she was lying?"

"You really believed a little strumpet like her could take on undead pirates?" Gaston contemptuously asked before snorting and rolling his dark eyes. He crossed his massive arms over his chest and turned fully towards his two companions.

"Funny how she can fight undead monsters, but she can't seem to find it in her to kill an average, EITC scumbag."

"It was probably the fact that the scumbag wasn't undead." Tristan dryly remarked in defense of Helen. He had a soft spot for women and it was in his nature to defend a woman's honor.

"Doesn't matter, does it? Killing's killing. I think she's all talk and all her talk is a bunch of mediocre lies. If I even get her alone without Jehan or the Capitaine's protection, well…let's just say it won't be pretty. I plan to-"

Gaston was cut off suddenly as there was a loud bang from behind the three pirates. All three quickly turned around to see the source of their conversation kneeling down upon the deck before standing up and daintily brushing herself up. She pulled her hair back before looking up and realizing that she wasn't alone.

"Oh, hello." Helen greeted as she lightly ran her fingers through her hair. She stood there patiently as the three pirates looked from her to the sky and back down toward her.

"What did ye do?" Gaston harshly question, "Drop in from the sky?"

A smirk worked its way across Helen's face as she rolled on the balls of her feet.

"Something like that. So what were we talking about? I only caught a snippet of it. What won't be pretty?" she innocently asked as Remy and Tristan once again exchanged uneasy looks. It was hard to tell what Gaston would do in this situation. He could do anything from lying and telling her it was nothing, or he could throw her overboard to her watery grave. It was really a toss up.

Fortunately everyone was saved from Gaston's answer as a sudden and very unpleasant smell fell upon the group. The three gentlemen noticed it first and all scrunched up their noises and turned their faces away from the smell.

"What's that smell?" Remy groaned as Helen blushed and realized that she was still wearing the sweat soaked clothes she had fought in earlier. She weakly chuckled and lifted her armpit to catch a sniff of it. She quickly gagged and turned away as she sheepishly grinned at the three glaring Frenchman. She clapped her hands together and twiddled her thumbs awkwardly.

"Right. Well, I'm just going…to go." she turned on her heel and with her head bent in shame, marched quickly away. Before she was out of earshot she did hear an interesting tidbit from Gaston.

"And to top it all off she doesn't even seem to care about personal hygiene!"

Helen hurried below deck and was on a one-way mission to her room. She ducked and avoided other crew members so that they could be spared the awful stank that was protruding from her body. She had almost made it to her cabin when she suddenly turned round a bend and ran into Manny.

"Dearest, we must stop meeting like this." Manny joked as he righted Helen as she playfully glared up at him. She tried to sidestep him but he moved with her and blocked her path while looking down at her with concern.

"Where've you been, eh? I've been looking all over the bloody place for you. I thought you had disappeared." he remarked as Helen sighed and once more tried to step around her young comrade. Once more, Manny blocked her way.

"It's a ship, how could I have disappeared? I was merely watching the sunrise up in the crow's nest this morning and fell asleep. Happy?" she begrudgingly asked Manny as he smiled and casually leaned up against the wall and looked down at Helen with a lazy grin. That is, until he sniffed the air and was suddenly surrounded by a rather odorous reek.

"What smells?" he loudly asked as Helen's already flushed cheeks turned redder.

"I do! Now let me pass!" she unceremoniously shoved Manny to the side and went on a rampage down the hall leaving poor Manny in her wake. She marched to her room and when she finally reached it she slammed the door behind her and sighed. She pinched the bridge of her nose as she allowed herself several deep breaths.

When she opened her eyes, it was to the sight of her now customary clustered room. Clothing and books were now perched precariously across her room; on every shelf, nook, nanny and corner. In Port Royal she had always been so neat and organized, but she had found on her time aboard the Fancy how much easier it was to just leave everything lie.

The life of a pirate was a very taxing one, and she hadn't the time lately to keep up on her cleaning. Helen only sighed as she took in the mess that was her tiny home. With a shrug she began rummaging around the tight quarters for a suitable shirt for the rest of the day's activities.

Stuffed under her pillow she found a relatively clean and unwrinkled scarlet red tunic. She wasted no time in peeling off her sweaty shirt for the red blouse. Once she was changed she hurried to her basin of cool water and picked up a rag and began to lightly clean herself. She wiped down her face and neck before tossing the rag back into the basin.

Helen feebly attempted to attack the dirt and grime that had made themselves at home under her fingernails, but it was to no avail. Defeated and frustrated Helen turned her back towards her mirror as her emerald gaze settled on her unmade bed and the open book that resided on it.

Helen hesitantly stepped toward the bed as she picked it up and gazed at its faded cover.

The Untold Life of Davy Jones

Helen had spent the last few nights reading and rereading it. Now that both Beckett and Jones were out for blood Helen wanted to know as much as she could on her supernatural adversary. And what she had read of him only puzzled her. Jones appeared to be an enigma: an island unto himself. Helen couldn't follow his reasoning for any of his actions; his only motivation seemed to be his anger and agony over the loss of the love of the goddess Calypso. Everything Jones had done had seemed to be in retaliation of the goddess' rejection. Jones was such a complex character and Helen hadn't even scratched the surface of him yet.

And while Jones fascinated her, late last night she had discovered something very strange and alarming in the book. At the back of the book she had discovered a folded piece of paper that had been roughly placed in the book. The paper was stained brown and worn and brittle with age. Written on it in a cramped and untidy print had been a simple list, but it had caught Helen's attention the night before.

Crewmembers of the 'Flying Dutchman'

1. Maccus

2. Brinescum

3. Hadras

4. Greenbeard

5. Two Head

6. Bootstrap Bill Turner…

Helen hadn't believed it when she first saw it last night in the dark of her room with only her dying candlelight as proof to verify that Will's father was; in fact, a crewmember of the Flying Dutchman. Even now in broad daylight Helen was still trying to deny that very fact. Will's father couldn't possibly be on Jones' side, he was supposed to be dead! Killed by his traitorous, cursed comrades aboard the Black Pearl!

Helen wondered if Will knew of his father's fate. From what Norrington had been able to tell her, it seemed that Will, for some odd reason, had been press ganged into joining Davy Jones' crew and; therefore, had spent an extended amount of time aboard the Flying Dutchman before meeting up with everyone else at the mysterious Isla Cruces where the Dead Man's Chest had been discovered along with Jones' heart.

Now, Will had his moments of being thickheaded, but Helen couldn't believe that he had spent time on the Flying Dutchman and had not encountered his father. Helen closed her eyes as she felt a headache coming on. This was all so damn complicated and she wasn't even in the thick of the adventure. Helen opened her eyes as her thoughts went to her wayward husband, who could be in a number of places. She remembered their first adventure with Jack, and the stinging blow that had befallen Will when he had learned that his father was a pirate. How must he have felt when he learned this his father was alive and on the side of their enemy? Helen wished that more than anything else she could have been there with him instead of rotting away in a dingy prison cell in Port Royal. He must have needed comfort during that time! And she, his dutiful wife, had been unable to comfort him!

"Damn," Helen muttered to herself as she once more pinched the bridge of her nose. She shook off her depressing thoughts; they would give her no comfort here. She continued getting ready before standing up and walking out of her room. It was early afternoon and Helen had no idea what to do with herself. She hadn't wandered far and was just passing by Chevalle's library when a voice beckoned her. She stopped at the door and peeked into the library room to see Chevalle sitting regally at the wooden table in the middle of the room.

"Please, come in." he called to her as she opened the door further and stepped into the plushy decorated room; her feet sinking into the carpet.

"Sit, sit," he directed her as Helen hesitantly sat down across from him, feeling slightly uncomfortable as she leaned back into her chair. Ever since their agreement of taking on the EITC things had been going better between the former aristocrat and the former baker. But that didn't stop Helen from feeling nervous and awkward every time she was in his presence. Every time he looked at her, it was like he was dissecting her with his eyes. She had spent enough time around men to realize that he was sizing her up and wondering if she was worthy for the livelihood of a pirate. Well, she would have to prove him wrong.

"I did not know we were having a meeting," she remarked after several moments of silence.

"Your posture is horrible," Chevalle quipped suddenly as Helen blinked and subconsciously straightened in her rickety chair.

"Not all of us grew up in a manor in France!" she muttered as she uncrossed her arms over her chest. See, this was why she did not spend an extended amount of time in Chevalle's company. What kind of pirate cares for posture?

"And your manners leave nothing to be desired." Chevalle noted while Helen glowered in her chair.

"I could just make this easier for you and leave," she threatened as she began to stand, only to be beckoned to continue sitting.

"Do not be petty; I called you in here to speak to you of matters of importance."

"Like what?"

"What do you know of Davy Jones?" Chevalle asked as Helen's eyes immediately darted up to meet his neutral gaze.

"I read the book you gave me."

"All of it?"

"Cover to cover," Helen responded with ease as some of her awkwardness began to dim. When Chevalle turned his intense gaze off it was easier to speak with him. She did not mention the fact that she had found a sheet naming off all of the Dutchman's crewmembers. It hurt too much to think about that.

"What did you think about it? You may not think it important now, but the only way to defeat an enemy is to learn of their weaknesses. What, in your mind, is Jones' greatest weakness?"

"His love for the goddess Calypso; in the end it drove him mad." Mad enough for him to rip out his own heart and lock it away into a chest. Chevalle nodded and motioned for her to continue.

"All of his actions are in response to her betrayal. Him, tearing out his heart, forgoing his duties of ferry souls, turning into a monster, and betraying Calypso to the Brethren Court, whom I still know nothing about."

A moment later a worn, thick volume was resting in front of Helen. Helen glanced at the French captain before looking down at the title.

When We Were Kings: the History of the Brethren Court

"Everything you shall ever want to know about the Brethren Court is in that book. It is the most important book in piracy, second only to the Pirate Code."

"Thank you," Helen murmured as she ran her fingers excitedly over the cover. "Which reminds me, when I was reading the book on Jones, something kept puzzling me."

"And that was?" Chevalle asked as a smirk of superiority came over his face. Chevalle was a natural historian and he always enjoyed being the one that everyone went to for answers.

"It stated in the book that Calypso loved Jones just as he loved her. It was even mentioned that he might have been the love of her life," Helen gulped and looked down at her newest book, "if that is true, why did she not meet him on his one day on land?"

Silence reigned over the compact library for several moments before Chevalle cleared his throat and Helen looked at him.

"One thing you must understand about the immortal beings that walk our earth Helen is that they lost their humanity a very long time ago. Gods and goddesses do not understand compassion or kindness or pain or even love, not fully. The reason the gads and goddesses are so destructive and ruthless is because that is they only they can feel. So Calypso may have very well loved Davy Jones, but it was not in her being to be faithful to him, to wait for him. Gods and goddesses are very fickle and their emotions change just as easily as the tide or the wind."

"But if you do love someone, how can you put them through that kind of pain?" Helen asked as she clenched her hands into fists. "Didn't she know that not being there for him would leave him devastated? Who does that to someone they love? I would never do that to my husband." Helen vehemently remarked as Chevalle only raised an eyebrow.

"You are only human, dear Helen, and Calypso is anything but."

"It doesn't make it right." Helen retorted quietly and Chevalle nodded.

"No, it does not. But you and I cannot change the past. The only thing we can do now is prevent the future that Beckett and Jones are attempting to create."

Helen looked into Chevalle's eyes while she leaned forward in her chair.

"And how will we do that?" she excitedly asked him in a rush; her words glossing together and her cheeks flushed with anticipation.

"Well," Chevalle began as Helen hung off his every word, "we will begin by…giving you night duty tonight."

Helen's whole being froze before the words sunk in, and she sent a deadly glare to Chevalle before slouching into her chair while the captain chuckled at her misery.

"I hate you," she darkly muttered as Chevalle's smirk only grew.

"That is mutiny," he reminded her as Helen snorted.

"I would rather spend my time in the brig than on night duty!" Helen lightly whined as Chevalle rolled his blue eyes.

"That can be arranged," he promised her as he stood, swooped up his hat and daintily placed it on his head, nodded to Helen and made his way out of the library, leaving Helen to her own devices. Helen continued sitting in the chair as she reached up and grazed her fingers over the leather cover.

"Well," she mused, "at least I'll have you to read."

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