"Jack's awake," I echoed. I stood to my feet slowly and grinned. This is going to be interesting, I told myself mentally. Seeing Jack being helpless before me, just like when we were in Tortuga.

You know what's also interesting? one of the voices in my head asked.

"What?"

If you would have killed Jack back in Tortuga, you wouldn't even be in this situation. Ha! Isn't that just interesting and, also, hilarious? It laughed loudly and I'm sure if it had a body, it would be laughing right in my face.

"Shut it," I ordered and stormed off to see Jack, hoping that it would help my mood.

I slammed the door open and grinned when I heard him shriek. It was music to my ears . . . somewhat. "How are you, Jack?" I teased cruelly. He rolled his eyes and layed back on the cot, trying not to care that I was there. "I'll take that as a 'I'm good.'"

He groaned. "What do you want, Stephenie?" he hissed between clenched teeth.

"I wanted to see how you were. You were shot and I was . . . " My voice trailed off. I didn't want Jack to know that for a split second I actually cared what happened to him. In my mind raced some lies that would be perfect to end it. So randomly I picked one. ". . . not caring about you," I finished the sentence stupidly. He stared at me for a while, and not the good type of stare. It was the "Are you drunk?" stare and I personally hated that stare.

After a few seconds of staring, Jack's attention was directed elsewhere. "Where's the rum?"

"Rum?" I repeated.

He sighed. "Yes, rum. The delicious, alcoholic drink that almost runs my body. Where is it?" He stopped directing the questions towards me and just started mumbling to himself. "I should probably ask Will. He dare not say that the rum is gone. If he does, I shall beat him over the head with his own legs."

I took an automatic step back. I decided I didn't like sober Jack that much. Jack looked over to me and grabbed my arm. "Come, Stephenie," he ordered. I didn't really have a choice but didn't want to be beaten over the head with my own legs, so I decided not to disobey. He dragged me out of the room and to the Captain's Quarters. His fist slammed against the wood.

The captain opened the door and looked . . . frightened. "What's wrong, Jack?"

"Where's the rum?!?!?!" Jack exclaimed, then passed out onto the floor, dragging me down with him.

William looked at me confused. "What's wrong with him?" he asked. I didn't know so I didn't say anything. "Huh. Must have been the stress," he guessed.

"Stress from what?" I asked, completely dumbfounded.

"Stress from realization that he had been shot and that we are going to Singapore. He looked as though he was frightened."

"W-w-we're going to Singapore?" I stuttered.

William nodded.

"So three months with. . ," I looked over at Jack.

"Yes," William said. That's when I passed out beside Jack.