*cries* Look at that shiny number, my friends! That pretty, shiny, number that is so high! That's right.....it is over 200! *huggles everyone in sight* I love you all so much!!!!!


*sniffs* I am so bloody happy!!


Now......*grins like a banshee* Can I get 225 now?! Whee!



Spidergurlrox: Oh dear. I have no make chapters longer?! *sighs* Yes, ma'am. And yes, Jack is sweet. And yes, I am darned lucky that you aren't there! Mwa ha!


Seductive Gypsy: Well then. I have done my job right! Thanks!


Elderberry: Yeah, I know...but it was so darn fun! I'm glad it was a good plot-twist, though. I was worried about that.


Lyssa2: Meh. I heard it from you. I quote you. And Rebecca. Mwa ha! I'm glad you like it that much though - thank you! I'm also really glad you think that I described it well enough...that was part of the challenge.


Ecila: No worries - it isn't going to end that soon! There's still some more Jack-ness for you yet!


Jorja: Wow....someone that sat and read the story all in one go! I'm glad you like it - marooned is also my favorite!


Dara Maeko: *huggles back!* Is huggable a word? My dictionary says no - but that's never stopped me before! And nothing wrong with being Dutch - I am 3/4 Dutch myself, so that's cool!


Oil Pastel: Seductive, the Dark Side is. Mwa ha! Oh...terrible sorry that there wasn't anything funny in this chapter - I hope you weren't hurt from falling off the cliff-hanger! And I'm still bloody cursed?! Must do something about that. *realizes for the first time that an undead pirate monkey is sitting on her shoulder* Aieeee!!!!


Ellina: You asked for it! *tackle-glomp* Mwa ha! Well....at least I manage a good Mary Sue...I had hoped that she wasn't one of those evil variety. And is she gonna stay? Or is she gonna leave? MWA HA!!!


Andi Horton: I can't seem to not do the 'independent woman'...maybe that's why I'm lonely!! And that was an amazing chapter, girl. Keep up the bloody amazing work. GO READ THIS GIRL'S STORY!!!! And wow - you near-ocean people got it bad - we got wind and rain and snow. That's it.


Completeopposites: Whee! Thank you! See, normally I have a lot of trouble with 'action scenes', so I tried really hard. Glad it worked!


Valor: Hey...Lyssa and her amazing fiction! I'm really glad you like it. And yes, I like cliff-hangers. Makes you actually want to read the next chapter! Mwa ha!


AleniaOceanstar: Hey...I love Jack too! Isn't that a weird co-inky-dink? Ooh...I write sensuously?! *is very excited* And you could so write the very best Jack romance on the net - this could hardly be the best! Ahh! *runs from pointy things!*


Huntress16: What, the chapter sucks, or bleeding on the floor sucks? Cause bleeding does suck, somewhat. If it's the chapter, though....maybe I could work on that?


Elizabeth: Soo glad you liked it! Cardboard swords are the best! Okay...so not the best...metal ones have the slight advantage....thankies!



Oh....and there seems to be this growing consensus that this story is ending with this chapter. Not quite yet! There is still this chapter, two more, and an epilogue. (Course, I haven't written any of them yet, so.....:D ) But yes, that is the plan. Happy Rum Dance with me!



Happy Rum Dance is MINE! *huggles it* MINE! I can't have bloody anything else...let me have my silly dance....*sniff*



*************



I woke up.


Frankly, that was the only way I could think to describe it, though I didn't feel either 'awake', or 'up'. For that matter, I felt dismal, in pain, and my tongue was sticking to the roof of my mouth. I was reminded of my brief 'hang-over' stint, but that seemed to pale in comparison.


Forcing my eyes open, I discovered that I was staring up at the sturdy ceiling of The Dauntless, that I was lying on a bed, that my right hand was wrapped in what seemed to be a veritable magnitude of bandages. That fact was determined by the fact that my head had been turned a little to the right, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see the disturbingly red-stained white wrappings.


As I woke a little more, I realized that someone was sitting on my left, and that that someone was holding my hand.


Swallowing to try to force some moisture into my dry mouth, I called, surprised at how rough my voice was, "Hello?"


There was a sudden scrabbling movement to my left, conveniently out of my line of sight, and a man's voice, "I'm here."


Frowning slightly, I rasped, "Jack?"


"In the brig, where the pirate belongs."


I closed my eyes, headache threatening my senses. That was hardly the kind of response I was expecting, and from the sounds of it, this couldn't be Will, either.


I tried to turn my head, wincing as it felt like my head had been filled with bricks. Heavy bricks. "What-? Who-?"


"It's alright," the voice whispered, squeezing my hand a little tighter. "I'm here."


Finally, finally, I turned my head enough to see just who it was that was holding my hand. And I swore.


Francis' tanned face paled a little. "Are you - is there any pain?" He leapt to his feet, looking desperate. "It's not in pain, is it?"


"Yes," I groaned, closing my eyes. "I am in pain."


"Oh dear!" There was more scrabbling movement, the sound of a chair being pushed back hastily. "Perhaps I should get the surgeon...oh...but he said it might have to amputated!"


I snapped my eyes back open. "He said what?!"


Francis halted, brown eyes wide in surprise. "Amputate. He said he may have to amputate, if the wound goes septic. I tried to convince him, but...if it hurts so much...."


"And a bloody amputation without anesthetic wouldn't hurt?!" I winced, trying to lift my injured hand, but discovering, much to my dismay, that I couldn't. I didn't think they did amputations unless the wound was really bad... "Just...how badly was I injured?"


Francis hesitated again, seeming to be debating over whether to stay and talk to me, or run for the ship's surgeon. I was most relieved when I won out. "Badly. You...managed to injure your entire hand and wrist. The surgeon says that it was lucky Elizabeth bandaged it when she did - or you may have bled to death." He lowered himself into his chair, hand still not leaving mine. "Heather...what happened? Really?"


I closed my eyes again. "Didn't they tell you?"


"They...they told us that a pirate cut your hand open when you defended Christine."


I frowned. What, no undead pirates? No sword-fighting on my part? No medallion, no turning into a skeleton and slashing my own wrist to end a curse? Well...their answer was correct - assuming you thought of me as a pirate, and you thought of ending the curse so Barbossa would die as defending Christine. Fine. Let Francis believe that. "Then they told you the truth."


"Oh." There was silence for a long moment, and I simply leaned my head against my pillow, keeping my eyes tightly closed, wishing that this was all some sick dream. Then Francis' voice floated back over me. "Wasn't there...any men that could have defended her?"


I felt sick to my stomach. "No. Francis...please. I'm tired. Won't you please let me sleep?"


"Oh! Of course!" A light kiss was planted on my forehead, and my hand was squeezed once. "Sleep well, dear one."


Right.


Bloody hell.



***



I felt considerably less pain the next time I woke up. Unsure as to whether or not Francis was there, and feeling no great desire to talk to him again, I kept my eyes closed. Carefully, trying to move as little as possible, I flexed the fingers on my left hand. No one was holding my hand. I tried to move the fingers on my right hand, but they seemed quite unwilling to respond.


Straining my ears for a moment, I listened for voices, but there were none.


Deciding that it was safe to open my eyes, I did, sighing with relief when I didn't see Private Parsons anywhere. Looking left, where Francis had been sitting, I noticed something I hadn't before - that sitting on the table in the corner was a rather ornate gold crown, and I realized that that was what Jack had sat on my head back in the cave.


Turning my head to my right, I would have jumped if I could have.


A man stood to the right of my bed, leaning casually against the wall, examining his finger nails with great interest. He was almost ageless - face lined and worn, but his back unbent and still young looking. He wore a ridiculously oversized hat, with a large sweeping feather in it.


"Er...hello?" I asked, quite surprised to see this stranger here.


He looked up, eyebrows raised, then frowned. "Oh. You're awake. Shame. I'd hoped you'd die in your sleep." As I gaped at him, he added, almost as an after-thought, "It would've saved me a lot of trouble, if you had have just died."


I suddenly wished that I could defend myself, but as my right arm - the arm I actually used, of course, go figure - was dead-weight by my side, I didn't think that defending myself was going to be happening anytime soon. "Why? Are you...here to....kill me?"


The man sighed dramatically, and sat himself heavily down in the chair Francis had vacated. "Oh, I only wish."


I gaped at him. Maybe it was these last several weeks spent in the company of high-culture and pirates, but his...modern language grated on me, sounding just, so...so...wrong.


He shook his head, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. "See, here's the deal. You ain't supposed to be here."


"I realized that," I said dryly, swallowing. "And you, perhaps, know why I'm here?"


"I was in the theater, behind you, remember?"


I gaped. I did remember - he was the odd-looking man with the big hat I'd paid no attention to! "Then...then how did I get here? Was it you?!"


He coughed, leaning back to rub at the back of his neck. "Yeah..." He said slowly, coughing again. "See...it was a mistake. A rather big opp-si-doodle, if you get my drift. You were never supposed to show up in the Caribbean." He frowned. "See, that medallion, right? I figured, hey, it's a good tool, I can use it, she'll be sure to pick that up." He groaned. "Oy vey."


I narrowed my eyes. "Wait...if I was never supposed to show up here, yet I was meant to retrieve that medallion...then what was its original purpose?"


He coughed again. "Um, well, you were supposed to contract a tropical disease."


My jaw dropped. I realize that this is not exactly an attractive expression, but my jaw did drop. "Tropical disease?!" I repeated.


"Yeah. Look," he held his hands forward. "It's my job, see. I'm Charon. I drive the boat that crosses the river Styx. And, well, business has kinda been slow, what with no one believing in the Greek underworld anymore and all that. So...in order to not get fired, I kinda got stuck with the job of drumming up some business. My job used to bring in lots of revenue, ya see, since I got all those obolus' and all."


"Obolus?" I interrupted.


"Gold coins," he answered, waving the question away. "But I'm pretty new at the whole thing, so I figured I'd do something simple, like tropical disease. But no, I had to get fancy, adding that you needed the gold coin and stuff and...what happens?! Bamo! You in 18th century Caribbean, British controlled territory! And your best friend gets dragged along too! Brilliant!"


He scowled, and slumped back in his chair, crossing his arms.


I, for my part, gaped at him.


"Let me see if I have this correct," I held my uninjured hand up. "You tried to give me a tropical disease - I assume with the intent to prematurely end my life. But you made a mistake, somehow, and instead, Christine and myself ended up here, now. And this is going to provide somewhat of a problem for you."


When he nodded, I continued, "And so you've come here in the hopes of clearing up the mess?"


He nodded again.


"And...how did you intend on...correcting the error?"


"Well, we have a couple options." He leaned forward eagerly, making me lean back a little so he wouldn't be invading my personal bubble. "First....you get to go back, right now, to the very moment you left, nothing has changed, you won't remember a thing, and I promise not to bother you again. Second, you go home, right now, but the three weeks you've spent here have passed there, too. But that way, you get to remember."


I frowned. "Charon - that is your name, correct? - Charon. I don't think I like those particular options. Isn't there anything else you could do?"


He hesitated. "Yes. Well....you can stay. Here. Live your life here, be happy, have all the life experiences one has in a life. And when you die - wake up back at home, at the exact moment you left. With every memory of the life you'd just lived."


I perked up. "I could do that?"


He shook his head. "I wouldn't suggest it, no matter what you're thinking. It's the worst fate you could ever inflict on yourself."


I frowned. "Frankly, it sounds like the less of all your evils."


He brightened. "Or...you could just die, and that would solve all the problems!"


I shot him the most withering glare I could manage. "And what about Christine?"


He sighed. "Since she was accidently pulled here along with you...whatever fate you choose, she has to share."


I blinked. "She's going to follow me around for the rest of my life?!"


"No!" He groaned, rolling his eyes. "It just means, whatever option you pick, she gets stuck with."


"Hmm." I frowned, chewing on my lip. "And you'll leave me alone and never bother me again?"


He grinned. "Only if you choose option number one." He paused. "Or if you just die. Then all I gotta do is row you over to the underworld, and then you'll never see me again!"


I rolled my eyes. "And once I've made my decision....what happens then?"


He shrugged. "I leave, you fall asleep. Wherever you wake up....well, that's where you wake up."


I frowned, worrying at the edge of my blanket. "And...do I have to tell you where I want to go?"


He shook his head, with a bit of a sigh. "Naw. Modern conveniences - the computers do all the paper-work."


Turning away from him, I looked around the room, a small, but still pretty nice cabin. Functional, practical, not too fancy. I drank in every last detail, wishing that there were people here - people that I needed to talk to, to make up my mind.


My bandaged hand reminded me of Elizabeth. Sweet, innocent Elizabeth, kind enough to bandage my wounds, even though I hadn't always been that nice to her.


The sword leaning against the wall beside the door was probably one of Will's creations. Peaceful, naive Will, with pirate blood running through his veins. Will that cared enough to rescue me from pirates, even if I didn't always want to be rescued.


The red coat that had been draped on top of my blankets, probably to keep me warmer, was obviously Francis'. I frowned slightly, wondering just what I would do with such a strangely love-sick character. I'd never had to deal with anything like that - it confused me.


I didn't need anything to remind me of Christine. Christine who would have no say in what happened, that would have to follow along with whatever decision I ended up making.


My mind battled with the choices, as I bit hard enough on my lip to make it bleed, quite without my noticing.


Glancing over to the right, back towards Charon, my eyes fell on the gold crown, and I sighed, looking up at Charon. "What do I do now?" I whispered.


"Just...go back to sleep. You're...well, heck, you're actually asleep right now. You'll wake up. Eventually."


I leaned back against the pillows, and Charon stood. "I...I hope you made the right choice."


"So do I," I whispered, my eyes suddenly heavy. Closing them, I yawned, whispering, "So do I."



**********************



That's right, folks. A.....dun dun dun.....cliff-hanger!!!


*Laughs evily*


Okay, so let's review now, (225, now!) And....tell ya what. You tell me what you think you want her to do!



And....for the heck of it....PARSONS!


Remember to remove spaces....apparently he's hot.


angelfire . com / theforce / isbored / parsons . jpg