Warnings: none

Elizabeth crept down to the forecastle, noticing a dozen or so empty bunks, from the leaving of the Singaporeans. Before she could see any of the crew's faces, she extinguished the candle.

Thank heavens, she thought, finding a bunk close to the wall, a decent distance from the sleeping crew. Silently she crawled into the hammock, using her peripheral vision to scope out the nearby sleepers. Gibbs was sleeping several bunks away, snoring rather loudly.

That's a shame that Barbossa took over his cabin. It's not fair. Gibbs is too even-tempered for his own good. He lets just about anyone boss him around, with absolutely no dissention on his part.

Ragetti was only a couple of bunks diagonally from hers, and he had switched his eye patch to the other side of his face so that it was now covering his good eye, leaving his empty eye socket exposed by the glow of the moonlight through a porthole. He resembled a skeleton with hair, looking much like he still retained the curse of Cortés. It was creepy, to say the least.

In the dim light she then spotted Pintel, one eye half-open, staring directly at her hammock. Does he sleep that way or is he waiting for me to fall asleep so he can…

Hesitantly, she shut her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. She kept her eyes closed for about a minute, then slowly opened them to see Pintel suddenly shut his eyes.

I can't deal with this tonight, she said to herself. I have to figure out something else. Actually, I'm surprised Jack hasn't come looking for me.

Sighing silently, she slid out of the hammock, picked up the candle, and lit it using the flame from a hanging lantern. She could hear the creaking of chains holding up a hammock. Oh, God. Maybe Pintel is following me. Picking up the pace, she soon reached a familiar door. Opening it just wide enough to squeeze in, she shut the door quickly and locked it behind her. By the candlelight, she could see that Beckett had not touched the food she had left for him.

He's still unconscious, she mused, watching his motionless form under the covers. As harmless as can be. Even if he would regain consciousness, he'd be too shocked to try anything. I'd be awake by then. And I'll have my pistol at the ready beside the bed.

She cupped her hand around the flame as she made her way to the bed, Beckett taking up barely half of it with his slight body. A silent prayer to the sky, she slowly slid under the covers, avoiding Beckett at all costs. Her cabin was perfectly quiet, in stark contrast to the snoring pirates in the forecastle. I can't believe I've gotten myself into this mess, she mused. Hopefully it'll all be over by the morrow.

Meanwhile, in his cabin, Jack could only retain a stance of shock as he realized he had blown his chance at having Elizabeth stay over.

"I shouldn't have mentioned the whelp," he murmured quietly to himself, pacing across the flooring. "But I will not go lookin' for her now, lest she think I'm pursuin' her. She'll have to come back here at some point, 'cause there's no way she'll be stayin' in th' forecastle, wot wiv Pintel bein' present an' all."

He stared at the door.

"But wot if she stays down there, an' somethin' does happen?"

He considered going to find her once again, but something held him back. He sat at his desk, watching the door.

"Guess I'll have to be all ears for any sort o' female screamin," he told himself. Several minutes passed in absolute silence, save for the drumming of his fingers on the desk. He eyed a bottle of rum sitting several feet away from him, and soon had it in his possession. Once he had downed the first couple swigs, he no longer had any interest in finding Elizabeth; and after half the bottle was gone, he was in bed, with naught but a care in the world.

Cutler Beckett slowly opened his eyes to the pitch black of the small room. It was shortly after dawn, but Elizabeth's cabin had no windows. Quickly he realized he was once again in bed on his stomach, and felt his heart racing at what would come next. Had the Singaporeans returned? Were they going to finish what they had started? He moved an arm and realized, thankfully, it was not restrained in any way. Next he shifted his left leg likewise, grazing something smooth and warm.

What the bloody hell is that? He mused, blanching at the realization of something next to him in the bed. Oh no. What if they've already done the deed? But… how could I have slept through such a thing? He cautiously grazed the soft thing again, allowing his eyes to adjust to the very dim light. There was definitely something beside him, but what? If it was a pirate, he would need to avoid waking said pirate at all costs.

He tried to make out shapes in the dark, propping up his upper body on an elbow. Eventually he saw the food plate to his right on top of a small table, a rotting odor wafting into his nose. To his left was definitely someone. He opened his eyes as wide as they would go in order to let in all possible light, moved his face in as close as possible without disturbing the person, and could make out a pair of closed eyes in the darkness. Female eyes, with long eyelashes and neatly arched eyebrows. Elizabeth Turner's eyes.

What in God's name is this all about? he mused, utterly stupefied, pulling his head away. Has she poisoned me, and is currently waiting for my exact moment of death? If not, what could possibly possess her to sleep here?

He looked again at Elizabeth, sleeping only about a foot away from him. Her eyes were closed peacefully, her hair forming a sort of halo-like frame around her face. The covers were pulled up to right below her chin, and her hands were folded together, keeping the covers in position. Her face showed no sign of anger or annoyance, just peacefulness. This was all very confusing.

As much as he wanted to know what was going on, he did not wish to wake her. This may well be the only time she does not treat me with the utmost contempt, he mused. I might as well let the peace last as long as possible, because she certainly won't be happy when she awakens.

A thought occurred to him. How did I end up in a bed again? At last recollection, I was in the brig.

He lowered his head back onto the pillow, feeling tiny pricks from the feathers inside the fabric tickling his neck and chin. I'll rest up on this relatively comfortable bed while I am still able. There must be some mistake. He looked over at Elizabeth's sleeping form.

Such nasty thoughts of vengeance lurking beneath such a calm visage, he mused, glancing one last time at Elizabeth's face as he lowered his upper body onto the mattress. If I had known you to be capable of all this, I would've had you hanged outright.

Merry Christmas, everyone! I hope that you have a wonderful holiday and that you have great fun with family and friends!