And after too long of an absence before an update—believe me I know how you feel: the author writes something you love then takes their time updating…a damned nuisance but tis a price we pay for having someone else's imagination work for us eh? Much of the dialogue in the second half has been directly taken from the POTC Dead Man's Chest script.

Salt coated their clothes as the wind battled with the sea upon which they tossed and turned. Gibbs scratched at his beard, his fingers pulling away a layer of salt from the hairs. It was going to be quite a show the heavens would give them, and soon. He heard a murmuring sound behind him and turned to see the lass holding her shirt up, the wound bared for all to see, her fingers probing it curiously.

"Would ye stop doin' that lassie?" Gibbs growled, his stomach heaving to and fro. The waves had increased in number and height and as they fled further from Port Royal the weather began to change for the worse. But it was not the throwing about of the ship upon the sea that made him queasy; no it was watching the lass poke her fingers in and out of the wound on her side. Any other man or woman would be dead surely, from such a monstrous wound, but not this woman. She was as cursed as the Pearl's crew had once been, though she was blessed to not turn into a rattling corpse under moonlight.

Ashlynne looked up with a wry smile on her face, "I'm sorry Gibbs, it's just that I'm nay used to bein' able to do this." She'd found a sliver of wood, chipped off from a crate, and began to poke it through the wound, the other end emerging near clean through her side. Gibbs shuddered and Ashlynne let out a manic sounding laugh. "I'll stop; 'tis startin' to close up anyhow." She pulled the sliver out and tossed it aside. Ashlynne quickly stood to her feet and wobbled her way to the her way past Gibbs she placed hand on his shoulder and squeezed. He gave a nod for a reply; the silent thanks conveyed and received.

She'd gone and done it again: lived when she should've died. This time, of course, she was glad that the curse worked thusly; she hadn't wanted to die before she ensured Hope's future and repaid Parlan for his sacrifices for her and her family. It was also reassuring to think that should the fates be cruel or kind and bring James Norrington back into her life she could continue to torture him. He'd tortured her plenty, with his idiotic stubbornness that was as enduring as it was infuriating, as well as his general good looks. He deserved to be repaid in kind, if he ever turned up again.

At the thought of James, Ashlynne clenched her fists and closed her eyes. Ghostly warmth shivered through her body at the memory of his kiss, his body once so close to her own. But just as quickly as it came it was replaced with the stark reality that he'd once again driven her to her death. She opened her eyes and scanned the frothy waves as they continued to smash against the side of their ship. Ashlynne had seen her share of unhealthy relationships, living in Tortuga allowed a great variety of such, but her own relationship with James was most likely the least healthy of them all. How many times could a man drive a woman to actual death before he stopped being a prat?

"Do ye think he'll come after us or keep after the Pearl?" Gibbs voiced his question loudly next to her ear, causing Ashlynne to jump.

She shrugged. Gibbs was of course referring to the fact that while the Pearl had tauntingly sailed past the harbor, with Jack and the majority of his crew relishing the idea of a chase—Jack had gone too long without some sort of mischief—Gibbs and another portion of the crew had waited just around the bend from the harbor in a smaller vessel, the Clamshell. It had been Gibbs who'd noticed the Dauntless pause to drop a canvas over side and it had been Gibbs who'd retrieved the canvas from the shallows once the Dauntless had disappeared around the peninsula.

Ashlynne didn't know what Gibbs' reaction had been when he'd had the canvas opened and found her "dead" body in it. She only woken up some time later in his cabin, dressed in trousers and a tunic—she was sure Gibbs had enjoyed that part of the rescue—with a raging headache, the hole in her side, and a crick in her neck.

"If the weather holds up like this o'er with the Pearl and the Dauntless I donna ken if either will keep up the chase." Ashlynne looked up at the darkening clouds. "We'll be lucky if we make it to Tortuga in one piece from the looks of that sky."

Gibbs grunted in assent before he moved off to speak to the crew and ready the ship for the storm. Left alone with her thoughts again, Ashlynne sighed. She couldn't very well predict what James would do, at least not in this situation. He'd surprised her, slightly, when he'd called the guard on her back in Port Royal and so soon after that "betrayal" Ashlynne didn't feel she had any authority on the man's behavior.

A crack of thunder had her jumping in her boots and the thunder was so loud it shook the railing beneath her hands. The storm reflected the war within her heart and mind in many ways. She knew that loving James still was ridiculous and yet-and yet-her heart persisted.

One Year Later, off the coast of Turkey

Ashlynne reached down and grasped the wrist of none other than Jack Sparrow. Gibbs had told her they'd be expecting someone, a fact she found most bizarre situated as they were far off the coastline, with no sails in sight under the moonlight aside from their own. She used her body weight to hoist her "ally"/friend over the side of the railing then stepped back while he stood erect and began righting his clothes.

Gibbs sauntered over, glanced over the side of the ship, then look back to Jack, "Not quite according to the plan."

"Complications arose," Jack looked at the skeleton hand he still held for a moment before he tossed it over the side, a sharp splash signaling its disappearance, "they ensued, and were overcome."

"You got what ye went in for then?" Ashlynne spoke over her shoulder as she watched the makeshift skeleton raft Jack had been paddling disappear beneath the dark surface of the water.

She heard Jack's hum and turned to see him looking as crafty as ever. He was holding something back, hence the tight lips. He always had darting eyes, rarely did he ever maintain eye contact—unless he was horribly sober—but a telltale sign that he was being less than forthright was when he tugged at his coat cuffs, and he was doing that now. Ashlynne frowned as she turned and leaned against the railing to watch the man look pretty close to flustered as Gibbs laid into him.

"Captain," Gibbs sidled up close beside Jack and laid an arm over his shoulders, "I think the crew, meaning me as well, though not Ashlynne here," he threw a disdainful look over his shoulder and Ashlynne shrugged—she'd only come along because Gibbs had asked for her special assistance in acquiring a special cargo; she could only assume that it was Jack, "well we were expecting something a bit more…shiny. What with the Isla de Muerta going by way of the sea, and the treasure with it."

"Ye shouldnae forget the fact that the Royal Navy is still chasin' ye all around the Atlantic." Ashlynne supplied and earned a glare from Jack in response.

"And the hurricane!" Marty, the dwarf pirate warrior, glared up at Jack, his hands upon his hips.

Oh yes, the hurricane. Ashlynne remembered it quite well. The Clamshell had limped back into Tortuga after it and some weeks later they'd heard of the Dauntless' loss of crew and captain. Commodore Norrington had quickly resigned his commission in despair and embarrassment and disappeared from the public eye. Even Ashlynne had not a clue where the man had run off to. She pitied him though; such a loss, such a shock to his strong ideals, must have destroyed him.

A responsive "aye" echoed around the deck, bringing Ashlynne back to note that the crew had ceased their duties and come to stand nearby, in order to better hear the conversation. Gibbs waved them to be silent as he continued.

"All in all, it seems that it's been some time since we did a speck of honest pirating." He let go of Jack's shoulders and made an expression fairly close to pouting—if a pirate could ever pout.

Jack fingered his goatee for a few moments before he replied, "Is that how you're all feeling then? Perhaps dear old Jack is no longer serving your best interests as captain?"

Cotton's parrot said something about walking the plank and Ashlynne nearly choked on her laughter when Jack near shot the poor thing off Cotton's shoulder. The monkey Jack took advantage of the distraction and retrieved a strip of cloth from Jack's coat pocket. Jack did stray shot at the fleeing monkey, not that it'd do any good. He seemed satisfied with the action though and once Jack the monkey dropped the cloth, Jack the pirate unrolled it and explained its contents.

"Gentlemen," he looked over at Ashlynne with a sly gleam in his eyes, "and my lady, what do keys do?"

Ragetti scratched the back of his head, "They unlock things?" Pintel smacked him upside the head as an answer.

"So we're setting out to find whatever this key unlocks then?" Gibbs stood up and rubbed his hands together in glee.

Jack held up a hand to stop him, "No. If we don't have the key we can't open whatever it is we don't have that it unlocks. So what purpose would be served in finding whatever need be unlocked which we don't have, without first having found the key that unlocks it?"

"So," Gibbs blinked rapidly, trying to keep up with Jack's circular speech, "we're going after the key!"

Jack sighed and shook his head, "You're not making any sense at all." He threw another sly look at Ashlynne, the man fully aware of his infuriating habit of double talk. "Any more questions?"

"Do we have a headin'?" Ashlynne pushed away from the rail and tapped the coat pocket where she knew Jack kept his compass.

"Oh a heading!" He pulled out the compass, glanced at it, twirled in a half circle, then thrust out his arm, "A general 'that way' direction."

The men looked at each other, each silently questioning the sanity of their captain, before they fell back to their duties. Ashlynne followed Jack as he made for his quarters. Once inside he rifled around his belongings for a few moments, Ashlynne watching him from where she leaned against the door.

"Why is the rum always gone?" He grumbled to himself before he turned to stare at Ashlynne. She pointed to the open door then gestured over her shoulder, indicating the rest of the crew. Jack sighed, "Oh, that's why." He swayed past her back into the belly of the ship, Ashlynne trailing behind him.

She wasn't about to let him weasel his way out of further explaining the key and their destination. While he could render the crew awestruck with his fancy speeches, Ashlynne knew better. She followed him down into the hold and waited until he pulled a rum bottle free before she moved forward. Jack turned to face her but then dropped the bottle on the floor, causing it to break and splash all over Ashlynne's boots. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise and slowly turned to look at what had Jack so spooked.

"Bootstrap Bill Turner." Jack whispered the name and Ashlynne felt her gut clench in disgust and apprehension when she spied the otherworldly creature sitting on a barrel across the hold from where they stood.

Ashlynne leaned towards Jack, "Is this a dream?"

He glanced over at her, realized that she was seeing the same thing as he, then looked down at the broken bottle and sighed, "If it was there'd be rum."

The creature-man surged to his feet and with crackling steps made his way over to the pair of them. Ashlynne cringed backwards despite herself and watched as the creature-man handed Jack another bottle. Jack, bless him, pried the bottle from the creature's hand. He used his teeth to tear out the cork then blew over the top of the bottle. His eyes never left the creature-man's face, even as he took a quick swig.

"I had some help retrieving the Pearl." He wiped his hand across his mouth. "Your son."

Ashlynne hid her gasp of surprise. So Will's father was still "alive" then, if this creature could even be considered alive, or still resembling Will's father. Jack was taking the appearance of the creature-man fairly well, while Ashlynne still wanted to shy away in revulsion. It was after Jack asked why Bootstrap was there that the creature-man surged forward and pressed his slimy hand against Jack's. When he pulled away and disappeared Ashlynne saw a black mark appearing in the middle of Jack's left palm.

"Jack, what is that?"

He stared at the spot for a mere second before he threw himself up the stairs, leaving Ashlynne in confused silence. By the time she'd crawled up after him and made her way on deck she found the crew scurrying around in a near panic, Jack standing near the bow of the ship with the closest thing to fear she'd ever seen on him shining in his eyes.

"Do we have a heading?" Gibbs was asking as she drew closer.

Jack looked down towards the water then back up at the sky, "Land!"

"Which port?" Gibbs asked the frantically pacing Jack, his eyes darting to Ashlynne's in question.

Jack ducked behind the mast and cowered down between it and planking behind him, "I didn't say port; I said land. Any land."

Gibbs stared at the clearly frightened Jack for a moment longer before he turned and gave orders to the helmsman. Ashlynne crouched down beside Jack and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. He started at her touch and nearly threw himself to the deck in fear.

"For the love of mother and child, Jack, what's comin' after us to have ye in such a state?"

He looked over his shoulder to make sure that no others were listening before he leaned closer and whispered hotly against her ear, "The kraken."

Ashlynne's stomach leapt into her heart and she too felt the desire to stand on land, any land, if only it meant escaping the monstrosity bearing down on them because of Jack.