Pale morning sunlight filtered in through the window of Ryenne's chamber, falling just a few feet short of where Jack still lay, tangled in a light blue coverlet and smiling quietly. He was a happier man than he had been in months. The reason for his happiness was currently nestled against his side, where she had been all night. Ryenne sighed in her sleep and edged closer, her warm breath tickling his ribs. Despite the urge to flinch that the sensation produced, he remained perfectly still, not wanting to wake her and destroy this peaceful moment. Just laying next to her, a hand twined in her sleep-tousled hair, was more satisfying than any other moment he had spent in the arms of a woman. He had been with many different women throughout the years – different meaning various, but also...unusual – but none of them were, well... Ryenne. There was something very unique about her. Her touch, her presence, seemed almost sacred somehow. The feel of her hair, the silken gold of her skin, was like nothing he had ever experienced before. It was exhilarating. And they hadn't even made love. Not even close. This was enough for now.

Not that he didn't want to make love to her; just the opposite, in fact. He wanted to very much. It simply wasn't the most important thing to him at the moment. At this moment, all he wanted was to be near her, to hear her deep, even breathing. Emotionally, mentally, that was all he wanted. Physically...

Oh, bloody hell...

Physically, he couldn't control himself. He needed to leave before she woke, or he would be forced to face the awkwardness that would most certainly result. After all, his attire was very... sparse at the moment. Nonexistent was a good word for it. Fortunately, he had the impression that Ryenne had not noticed this particular fact the previous night. He was certain that, had she noticed, she would have mentioned it. But there was no possible way she would overlook his current... physical reaction to their closeness. And she would, of course, have a reaction of her own. Most likely an unfavorable one. An immediate exit was definitely necessary. How to escape without actually waking her was the problem. She currently had his right arm pinioned beneath her and was showing no signs that she would be moving any time soon. He hadn't noticed that it had fallen asleep, but now the sensation of pins and needles was an unpleasant reminder that he was trapped.

Come on, love. Roll over! Ryenne did not comply. In fact, she did the exact opposite of rolling over, instead burrowing her cheek into the hollow of his shoulder. The corner of her mouth twitched upward in a sleepy smile, mocking him. He sighed. Damn my good looks and chivalrous attitude towards crying women. As if his looks had had anything to do with the matter. She had been having a nightmare – any familiar face would have been a comfort to her. She would have asked Gibbs to stay, had he been the one present upon her awakening. Well... maybe not Gibbs. Will, most definitely. But Will wouldn't have stayed; he would have gone back to Elizabeth and left Ryenne to herself. And Will would have had the good sense to put on some clothes before coming to investigate. Therefore, Will would never have been caught in the situation Jack now found himself in. As to chivalry...

"Jack?"

Uh oh... He only needed to turn his head a fraction of an inch to see Ryenne's eyes fluttering open. Too late now.

"Yes?" His voice came out sounding slightly strangled. He cleared his throat and tried again. "What is it, love?"

He felt her flinch at the use of the pet name – and winced himself – but she showed no further signs of movement. That was a good sign, wasn't it? That she didn't want to break the moment, either? He just needed to stay still. Perhaps she wouldn't notice...

"What are you doing here?"

Of course. Of course she wouldn't remember asking him to stay. His situation was just getting worse and worse, wasn't it?

"You had a nightmare, lov-Ryenne. You asked me to stay." Please, please let her remember!

She was silent for a moment, unmoving. Jack held his breath.

"I thought I'd dreamed that."

His breath came out in a relieved whoosh. "Ah. You dream about me often, then?" He tried to make his voice light and teasing. It had the desired effect.

"No." That familiar defensive edge came into her voice, and she rolled away from him, moving to sit at the far edge of the bed. He checked to make sure the blankets still fully covered his lower half and propped himself up on his stiff right arm. It took him a moment to realize that she was watching him, eyes narrowed suspiciously. He gave her what he hoped was a disarming smile.

"What sort of dreams do you have about me?"

"I told you: I don't." She folded her arms across her chest, nodding at the door that separated her room from his. It was still slightly ajar. So close, and yet so far. "You wouldn't mind leaving, would you? I'm not... decent." A slight blush rose on her cheeks at the word. It was nothing to the one forming on Jack's own face.

"Well, I... er..." He gave the coverlet a small tug, tucking it tighter yet around his waist. Ryenne's eyes followed the motion, narrowing even further. He could almost see the realization forming on her features.

"Jack, are you...?" Her mouth closed on the word, and she frowned. "Why are you...?"

He wondered whether his ears would set fire to his hair. They certainly felt hot enough to do it.

"Well, you see... I thought that someone had broken into your room, and -"

"Broken into my room?"

"Yes! You were... whimpering... and I didn't pause to think about... I thought I needed to... er... rescue you, I suppose." Was that a smirk forming on her face? He stammered on, hoping for a miracle that would transport him from her bed to his without exposing... well... anything. "There just wasn't enough time to... uh..."

She was definitely smirking now. "I see."

He cleared his throat, for lack of anything better to do. His eyes darted frantically about, searching for an escape route of some kind. They found the linen privacy screen tucked unobtrusively into a corner. He was unclear of its exact use, as the type of women he was used to didn't put much stock in things like modesty; it simply didn't fit with their profession. He knew that it had something to do with privacy, and that was all. It would have to do.

"Ryenne, love, you wouldn't mind stepping behind the... er..." He pointed, ignoring her attempts to stifle a laugh. He would have been pleased at this new change in her demeanor, had it not been at his expense. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth and her eyes sparkled.

"Of course." Her voice was strained, but she was quick enough to comply. The hem of her night shift disappeared around the corner of the screen in a flash, a strange coughing the only evidence that she was still in the room. Always a suspicious man, Jack made sure the coverlet was wrapped tightly about his waist before he stood and edged toward the door. He was safe.

Or would have been, had he not tripped on a trailing edge. The realization that he had inadvertently stripped himself bare once again hit him a split second before the floor did. Abandoning any remaining shred of dignity he might have been able to wrangle up – and using words in his vocabulary that would have made a less hardened sailor blush – he scrambled to his feet and sprinted the last few steps that separated him from the safety of his own room. The door slammed behind him, but it could not drown out Ryenne's echoing peal of laughter. She would never let him live this down.

Jack sighed, allowing himself a grudging smile. It could have gone worse. At least she was speaking to him again.


Ryenne was still fighting giggles when Mary came in, carrying her usual tray of tea and toast. If the young maid was confused by this sudden change in behavior, she was careful not to show it; her face sported its customary overtly-cheery smile. Ryenne couldn't help but smile back. She knew she should have felt horrified – or, at the very least, embarrassed – by the incident between her and Jack, but she couldn't seem to work up anything other than amusement. Her last encounter with a naked man had left her battered and broken in so many more ways than one, but this encounter with Jack had been anything but threatening. In fact, she had never seen him quite so helpless or uncomfortable. There had been nothing cold or predatory about him; he had been all bewilderment and sheepishness. He was nothing to fear. He was all that was familiar in this unfamiliar place. Those moments between waking and sleeping, where all she had felt was the warmth of his skin on hers, were the most comforting she had had in weeks. In those moments, she had remembered what it was like to feel that simple affection she had so envied in the strangers on the street outside her window. She hadn't wanted to wake up and let go; she wanted him that close always. The sweet words, the gentle caresses... she wanted those too. But she was afraid. She was remembering how to love, and it scared her.

"You're in a good mood today, Miss Ryenne."

Mary's voice and the tug of corset lacings interrupted her thoughts. She was already half-dressed and hadn't even noticed. Shaking her head at her own inattentiveness, she let herself soak in the emotions she thought she had forgotten. Happiness, contentment, even a certain recklessness. She smiled.

"Yes." The incident was far too personal to share. "I had a pleasant dream last night – very pleasant."

"Oh?" Mary's curiosity was like a tang in the air, but Ryenne ignored it. Instead, she studied the simple breakfast tray the girl had brought. One teacup, one plate, one solitary chair pulled up to the table... A very lonely arrangement. Too lonely. There was no good reason for it.

"I think I'll take my breakfast with the others this morning."

Mary's hands paused on the laces. "Are you sure, Miss?"

"Of course I am." Despite her best efforts, Ryenne heard her voice shake with nerves. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "I'll wear the lavender today, I think."

The steady tug of the corset came back, efficient and smooth as ever. "Whatever you say, Miss."

Ryenne watched her reflection in the mirror as the young maid worked, examining a face she no longer recognized. There were new scars. A faint pink line, fine as a cobweb, traced the line of her left cheekbone. No doubt Mary had long since noticed the more dramatic criss-cross of whip scars on her back, old and new melding to leave no inch unmarked. They no longer pained her, but she did not need to feel them to know they were there. Her skin had paled and softened in the past few weeks, her old callouses fading to nothing. If not for the scars, she might have resembled Carolyn, the spoiled young noble with glossy black hair and porcelain features. But she was not Carolyn.

Neither was she Ryenne. Ryenne was brash and reckless. Adventurous. Ryenne wore trousers and scrambled around the decks of pirate ships, was tanned and calloused in every place it was possible to be tanned and calloused. Ryenne did not wear corsets and petticoats, did not worry about the state of her hair or her dress. Ryenne would not even have considered hiding out alone in her room for weeks; the cabin fever would have driven her mad. No, this person in the mirror was not Ryenne. It was someone new and different and unfamiliar.

"You're all finished, Miss." Mary stepped back and curtsied, her wide blue eyes curious and cautious.

The woman-who-was-not-Ryenne took one last look in the mirror, smoothing her lavender skirts and arranging a pleasant smile onto her features. A new woman deserved a new start. And she would have one.


In another part of the house – namely, the dining room – Will fumed. He sighed irritably and leaned back in his chair, pushing away his untouched breakfast. His shoulders had begun to throb, but he ignored them. The note Mary had brought in only a few minutes earlier was now crumpled in his fist, its neat calligraphy starkly contrasting with the rampantly untidy – and decidedly vicious – creases that marred its once-flawless ivory vellum surface. Its words still danced before his mind's eye, taunting him.

William,

Word of your improving health has reached me, and I would very much like a chance to congratulate you on your recent safe return – and hear tell of your journey, of course. I have heard some interesting rumors concerning the nature of your departure; rumors which you, I am certain, would like to eradicate personally.

You may expect me on Thursday, next, at seven o'clock sharp. I have also been told that you are entertaining some rather unusual guests. I look forward to meeting them in person.

Cordially,

James Norrington

Commodore

"Well, this is a fine time he chooses to visit!" Across the table from him, creases to mirror those of the letter formed between Elizabeth's brows.

"He's bound to be curious, Will. You vanished for weeks, without explanation and without your wife. Of course he'll think Jack is involved." Her stern expression softened into a wry smile. "And he wouldn't be wrong, either."

"But you told him I went to England on family business, didn't you?"

"I did, but the state you came home in hardly lends truth to that story." The smile faded. "And you and Jack did cause quite a scene at our Christmas party. In front of numerous witnesses."

Will smoothed out a crease and read. "'I have also been told that you are entertaining some rather unusual guests.' Who told him we have guests? Neither Jack, nor Ryenne, has been outside this house since we got back!" Had he been looking at her, he would have seen Elizabeth's mouth tighten at the sound of Ryenne's name. As he wasn't, he didn't, and continued on in the oblivious way only the extremely unobservant can. "Ryenne will be fine – he'll never recognize her – but what about Jack? The Pearl only just departed three days ago; they won't even be halfway to Tortuga -"

"I still don't understand why he sent them away. Doesn't he worry that they won't come back?"

"Gibbs wouldn't stoop to mutiny... again." Will waved a careless hand, re-crumpling the offending letter and tossing it onto the table. "It wasn't safe for the Pearl to linger in port with Norrington home; she's too distinctive. And Jack couldn't leave without Ryenne."

"So why not take her with him? She hasn't any injuries that would prevent her from traveling." Even at his most obtuse, Will could not have missed the chilly tone of his wife's voice. It's cause, too, was more than obvious.

"Elizabeth," he reached across the table to take her hand. "None of this was her fault. I've been trying to convince her of that for weeks, and it doesn't help if I have you doubting me, too!"

Her eyes brimmed with tears. "But you almost died, Will! It would never have happened if she hadn't -"

"Lizzy, look at me! I'm not dead. I'm perfectly healthy -"

She snorted.

"- well, maybe not perfectly healthy, but I am getting better." He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, smiling gently. "Besides, it isn't as if anyone forced me to go after her. I chose to go."

"But why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you go after her?" A shadow of accusation crossed her face. "As I recall, you were in love with the last woman you risked your life for."

"And I married her." Will couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of his wife's concerns. From her darkening expression, he assumed she did not take this well. "Elizabeth, if that is what this is all about, then I -"

It was at that moment that Jack decided to make his grand entrance. At least, it would have been grand, had he not seemed so twitchy and off-balance. Embarrassed. Sheepish, even.

"Good morning, Lord and Lady Turner!" Despite his nervous exterior, Jack's voice sounded a great deal heartier than it had in weeks. For some inexplicable reason, it made Will suspicious. "How goes it with thee on this fine spring..." He trailed off, seeing the looks on their faces. "Am I interrupting something?"

Will smiled tightly, annoyed at the abrupt end to his conversation. He would have to deal with Elizabeth later. They had bigger problems at the moment.

"We've got trouble, Jack." He nudged the balled-up letter toward the other man, not bothering to unfold it; Jack was quick enough to do that himself. Will watched his dark eyes travel down the paper, pausing on the signature. That damned, smug signature.

"Norrington." Jack's mouth twisted over the name. "I guessed we would have trouble with him sooner or later."

"Unfortunately for us, it's sooner."

Jack nodded gravely. "The timing couldn't be worse. I need to figure something out, before the two of you end up in -"

Again, Will's inattentiveness to Elizabeth's moods caused trouble. Had he been paying attention, he might have seen her swelling with rage at Jack's words. But he didn't.

Her mouth opened, and what came out was this:

"You idiot!"

Her words were greeted with a brief, tense silence. Will didn't know what to say. It was Jack who finally broke the quiet, his voice soft and incredulous.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Sending the Pearl away at a time like this has to be the least intelligent thing you have ever done, Jack Sparrow!" Elizabeth's voice was sharp with bad temper and the raging of very imbalanced, very pregnant, humours. "And that is saying quite a lot."

Jack had the grace to look stung. "Elizabeth Turner! That may have been the most unnecessarily venomous thing you have ever said to me. And that is saying a lot."

"How dare you!"

"How dare I what?" Despite the increasingly cold tone of his voice, he managed to remain calm. Will envied him that. "You threw the first stone, as I recall."

"I'll throw a lot more than that!"

Will was trying very hard not to lose his temper; it was like trying to keep water inside a sieve. In his defense, he was already under a good deal of pressure at the moment.

"Stop it! You're both being ridiculous!"

They continued on as if he hadn't spoken at all.

"How dare you come here and put us in danger like this!?"

Jack snorted. "Norrington hardly constitutes what I would call 'danger.' At least not to you, Mrs. Turner."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't it Norrington who had you in a noose last time you were in Port Royale? You'd be dead if Will hadn't saved your sorry hide!" Elizabeth's face shone with something that resembled triumph. "So, yes, I'd say Norrington qualifies as dangerous. To wretched pirates, in any case."

Will decided he would try again.

"You're acting like children!" As he watched his wife open her mouth to snarl a reply, he could feel the atmosphere tensing for that last reckless dive into chaos. It wasn't really a surprise. Jack and Elizabeth had been at odds for weeks – they never had gotten along all that well. All they needed was that final shove. Norrington was the shove. Now came the storm.

Elizabeth's face was a thundercloud. She had one hand placed protectively over her swollen belly, the other curled into a fist around her spoon. She looked as though she were about to spit venom. Jack got there first.

"You bloody traitor."

That caught her off-guard. "What?"

"You sold us out to Norrington, didn't you?" He brandished the battered note at her, his eyebrows diving into deep furrows. "Told him you have some 'rather unusual guests,' did you?"

"I would never -"

"You would just love to see Ryenne dragged off to gaol, wouldn't you?"

Will thought this was going a bit too far, and he was just about to say so.

And then Ryenne walked in.


The instant Ryenne stepped into the dining room, she wished she hadn't. The place was a tableau of chaos. Jack's face had frozen at the sight of her, a mask of shock and fading fury. A much-abused piece of parchment was clenched in his fist, which trembled slightly. Will looked little better, hunched over his breakfast in a manner that was more defeated than hungry. It was Elizabeth's face that disturbed her most. The beautiful young mother-to-be was crouched like a tiger, ready to spring... at Jack. However, upon Ryenne's entrance, her attention had refocused. Ryenne suddenly remembered why she had remained closeted in her room for so long; the outside world was dangerous. Upon seeing the wild threats in the other woman's eyes, words eluded her.

But not Jack, apparently.

"Good morning, Ryenne, love." He twisted his lips into a badly-formed grin. "Pleasant... er... weather we're having, isn't it?"

The absurdity of this comment threw her so completely off-balance that she forgot to reprimand him for using that awful pet name. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to think of something intelligent to say. Nothing came to mind. So she said the only thing that did come to mind.

"Am I interrupting something?" Anyone could plainly see that something – something extremely volatile – had been interrupted, but it seemed the proper thing to ask, so she asked. She really wanted to ask what in the bloody hell was going on, but that seemed impolite.

Elizabeth, it seemed, was not concerned with impropriety.

"Yes, you are. Please leave." Her tone was decidedly cold, each word an icicle in itself. It was the first outright show of contempt she had directed at Ryenne. Strangely enough, it felt like a challenge. Before she could even begin to respond, however, Will decided to speak.

"Now, Elizabeth, she's got as much right as any of us to know what's going on." He made a minute gesture at Jack and speared a sausage with unnecessary force. Ryenne was sure that, had it been able, it would have squealed in pain.

What had she gotten herself into?

As if to answer her unspoken question, Jack proffered the battered scrap of parchment he'd been holding. It appeared to be some kind of note. Their fingers brushed when she reached to take it, and she found she was delighted to see him blush. It was a vulnerability Quinn had never shown. It gave him an innocence, a sweetness, knowing he was embarrassed about what had transpired between them that morning. It made the idea of loving him a great deal less intimidating.

All it took to shatter her mood was a glance at the letter in her hands. Or, more accurately, the signature on the letter in her hands. James Norrington, Commodore. She didn't need to read the rest to know that it meant trouble, but she read it anyway. Rumors. Unusual guests. A visit from the Commodore, who would be sure to recognize – and arrest – Jack on sight. Captain Jack Sparrow was, after all, an infamous name around these parts. She was just lucky that Captain Ryenne Caelar wasn't; her association with the Silver Gryphon had been hardly more than a bad joke. The fact that the Silver Gryphon had once attacked the Dauntless mattered little, because it would only be remembered as that – one ship firing on another. She was safe... but Jack...

"Jack, you have to leave! As soon as possible!" She wanted to reach out, grab him, shake him, demand to know why he hadn't already left for port. The look on his face stopped her. He seemed... sheepish? "What's wrong? Why haven't you left yet?"

Across the room, Elizabeth made a noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a snort. "Because, he sent the Pearl away, the idiot that he is."

"Sent the Pearl away? Why?"

Jack wouldn't meet her eyes. "She's too distinctive. Norrington would have spotted her and known we were here. I had no choice."

Ryenne couldn't believe her ears. "No choice? What do you mean, 'no choice?' Why didn't you sail out with her?" But before she even finished the sentence, she knew. She knew why he wouldn't look at her, why he hadn't sailed, why he was putting himself in danger like this. Because he had been waiting. For her.

Elizabeth was right: he was an idiot.

Will must have seen the direction her thoughts were headed, as he was suddenly an active member of the conversation once again. "It doesn't matter why you two are here while the Pearl is halfway to Tortuga; it's too late for that. What does matter is how to keep Norrington from knowing that it is you who is here."

"It doesn't matter if he knows I'm here; he wouldn't know me from a fig. It's Jack I'm worried about." She glared at Jack, who suddenly became deeply interested in his boots. "Norrington will have him off to gaol quicker than we can blink."

"Unless he doesn't recognize Jack." A grin spread across Elizabeth's face – a frighteningly abrupt change in temperament, as far as Ryenne was concerned.

"Impossible."

"Let me explain." The other woman had finally relaxed out of her feline crouch, reclining smugly in her chair. "Norrington was told that Will was gone on family business. Why should he need to believe anything different?"

Jack caught on the quickest. "Ah, yes. After all, it isn't unusual for a person to have unusual family members, who eventually become 'unusual guests.'"

Will still hadn't released his captive sausage. "But we aren't related, Jack."

Elizabeth was beginning to look put-upon once again. "You don't need to be related, you daft man. We only need to make Norrington believe that you are."

Ryenne smiled as a certain memory flooded her mind. Jack, clean and debonair, ready to attend a Christmas party; so clean and debonair that she hadn't recognized him. Not at first, anyway.

"It would take a great deal of disguising to make Jack unrecognizable," she hazarded.

Elizabeth's smug smile returned. "You'd be surprised what a haircut, a shave, and a change of clothes can do for a man." Ryenne couldn't help but notice Elizabeth's pointed look at Will as she said this. Will pretended not to notice.

Jack, however, did notice. A grimace spread across his face like a dark cloud. "I'm not going to enjoy this, am I, Will?"

"No, Jack, you aren't going to enjoy this."