The room was silent but for the gentle sigh of peaceful repose. The candlelight shone gently on the two as they sat together, gazing on the face of their firstborn son. Will could hardly believe it. It had been a long day, almost interminable for him as he paced the hall below, listening as his wife struggled through the hard birth. Jack and the other men had tried to help him, to soothe his anxiety, but how could they, when only one among them had suffered as he had that day?

Still, it was all over now, and the fruit of the day's toils lay, cradled lovingly, in Elizabeth's arms. The tiny boy had succumbed to sleep quickly, staying awake just long enough to look into his father's eyes as he was given his name. His little hand held tightly onto Will's finger as he slumbered on.

'He's beautiful, 'Beth,' Will whispered, loath to raise his voice for fear of waking the child.

Elizabeth smiled wearily, leaning back into her husband's embrace with a grateful sigh.

'I'm glad I could give you a son,' she murmured.

Will drew her closer, encouraging her to use his strength to remain upright.

'I would have been just as happy with a daughter, 'Beth,' he told her. 'Just to know that you are well and safe after today's trials would be enough for me.'

She smiled into his kiss, thanking whoever was responsible for Will's loving presence in her life. He meant far too much to her for anything to ever mar what they shared. The child stirred slightly against her, his eyes opening sleepily to gaze up at his parents as they gazed down at him.

'He has your eyes,' Will murmured.

Elizabeth snorted softly, gently stroking her son's cheek with a gently finger. The tiny boy turned towards the loving touch, seeking the contact with an open mouth.

'Were he a cripple with four eyes and green skin, I would not care,' she whispered fondly. 'He is our son . . . our Matthew.'

Will laughed quietly at the image she had drawn for him, pulling her as close as he could. His free hand drew the coverlet over her legs as she laid her head tenderly against his shoulder. Smiling down into her tired eyes, he kissed her forehead softly.

'Sleep, 'Beth,' he told her. 'I'm watching over you.'

With a soft smile for his loving vigil, Elizabeth allowed herself to drift off to sleep, exhausted from the day's exertions. Will sighed in contentment, laying his head atop hers, his eyes on those of his son as Matthew, too, let sleep claim him.

*~*~*

Marin looked from each of her companions' faces to the next, unsure whether to be disgusted or amused at their state. Of them all, only one had a genuine reason for allowing himself to grow so drunk, and that was because his first grandson had been born that day. However, Elias and Jack could not resist the call of alcohol, no matter the celebration, and certainly not when it was the best to be had.

But she was disappointed in the commodore. He, of all people, should have shown at least some display of decorum, in her opinion. However, he was quite obviously the most inebriated of the lot, and not showing any signs of wishing to relinquish his glass any time soon.

She sighed. She couldn't blame them, of course. The birth of any child is a matter to celebrate, especially when you had a connection with the family as they did, but Marin couldn't help thinking that perhaps the men were taking it a bit too far. She'd heard of taking a drink to wet the baby's head, but enough alcohol was being consumed tonight to drown the poor child.

'I never should have joined the army,' James was saying to her shoulder, his glass held tightly in his hand to avoid spilling the contents.

Marin frowned.

'You didn't,' she told him.

He blinked, peering at her with intense concentration.

'Didn't I?'

She shook her head. James seemed to consider this before giving her a big smile.

'That's good, isn't it?'

'I'm sure it is,' she said, leaning back out of the fumes. This was why she never spent her time ashore with the crew in the taverns. When the drink had flowed a certain amount of time, they always seemed to want to confide in her.

James nodded to himself, taking a large gulp of his brandy. He blinked owlishly at her, gripping her shoulder clumsily.

'You're a very pretty girl, Marlin,' he told her, and she rolled her eyes, biting her lip to keep from laughing at the mispronunciation of her name. 'Had my cap set for you all along.'

Dear God, I hope he doesn't remember this in the morning, Marin prayed. She glanced up at where Jack, Elias and the governor were ensconced in a deep, meaningful, and above all, slurred conversation, satisfied that she would be the only one to hear whatever the commodore had to say whilst under the influence.

'I would've married you, you know,' James continued. 'Was going to ask you if you stayed a bit longer. But no . . . no, you're Sparrow's woman, anyone can see that.'

Marin found herself blushing, embarrassed that her feelings for Jack were so obvious that even this austere detached gentleman had noticed them. He laughed bitterly.

'The only two women I've ever wanted . . . already in love with someone else,' he said ruefully, a sardonic smile on his face. 'First Will got Elizabeth . . . I'm going to stand aside for Sparrow. No one should have to face rejection where their heart is involved.'

He raised his hand, brandy slopping out of the glass to drip down his fingers.

'Not that I want him to be happy, you understand,' he added hastily, glancing up at Jack with an angry glint in his dark eyes.

Marin sighed, seeing the conflict between them was still burning brightly, and gently removed her cousin's hand from her shoulder. He slumped forward, devoid of a prop to hold him up, his head taking up position where his hand had been for a moment.

'You smell nice,' he murmured none too softly as he pushed himself upright once again, a pompous look on his face.

'Honour,' he said, 'always honour. I have my honour, and Will has Elizabeth, and Sparrow has you, and I won't stand in its way . . . not even to patch a cirate.'

Once again, Marin was obliged to bite down on her lip to prevent an inappropriate giggle.

'James, I think it's time you went to bed,' she said softly.

He stared at her, his eyes narrowing as he peered through the alcoholic haze that surrounded him.

'Bed?' he asked loudly, his words slurring together magnificently. 'But the yight is still noung!'

He flourished his glass, spilling what was left of the brandy over Marin's knees. She gave him a tight smile, removing the glass from his hand, and turned to glare at Jack. The pirate gave her an unsteady smile, swaying gently in his chair.

'Want something, love?'

She looked him up and down scathingly, making him painfully aware of just how drunk he was.

'Never mind, I'll do it myself,' she said irritably.

Standing, she drew James to his feet, pulling his arm about her shoulders and deftly removing the brandy bottle from his out-stretched hand.

'Come along, James, it's time you went to sleep,' she told the drunk commodore, giving him no option but to go with her, or fall down.

His fingers gripped her shirt tightly as they made their painful way up the stairs. Intoxicated as he was, James did try to help his little companion haul him up the staircase, though he only succeeded in making himself even heavier for the young woman. Despite this, they made it to his door in one piece, and it was with profound relief Marin staggered into the chamber, all but throwing her cousin onto the bed face first.

A drunken 'thank you' drifted up to her, somewhat muffled by the fact that his face was pressed into the coverlet. Marin smiled faintly and turned to go, finding herself unable to. What if the maids found him like this the next morning? His dignity would go in a flash, he'd be the talk of every gossip in the town. She couldn't let that happen to him.

Shaking her head at her own soft-heartedness, she turned back to him, pushing him over onto his back with a sigh. James watched her silently, his scrutiny almost childlike, as she wrestled with the buttons on his coat and shirt. After much muted cussing, Marin finally managed to get the intricate buttons undone, drawing both coat and shirt off him none too gently. The wig was carefully put to one side, and she knelt down at the end of the bed to draw his hose and shoes off his dangling feet.

'Robert would be proud of you.'

Marin paused, her gaze drawn upwards to where James was slumped against one of the posts on his bed. He was watching her with that same childlike intensity as she pulled his shoes off.

'What makes you say that?' she asked him, swallowing against the lump that had risen in her throat when he spoke of her father.

'I knew him, you know,' her cousin said softly, sounding almost sober, though just one look into his eyes told he was nowhere near sobriety. 'Always something odd about Robert. Nothing bad, he was just . . . wild, I suppose. He would be proud that you're a pirate. Just as Elias is.'

Marin smiled gently, pushing back onto the coverlet as she braced herself to remove his trousers. There was no way she was even going to consider taking his underwear off him, she told herself. Folding the discarded clothes carefully, she rummaged about until she located a nightshirt, pulling the cool cloth over his head with no little difficulty, since he was rapidly losing control of his extremities.

'There was a tune he used to sing,' James mused as she pushed him backwards again, yanking his tall frame up towards the pillows until he was completely in the bed. 'Something about erin . . . lovely tune.'

Marin knew which song he was talking about almost instantly, knowing only one song that spoke of a reel. Elias had made sure she had learnt it as she grew up, insisting it was her song.

'Ar Eirinn Ni Neosainn Ce Hi,' she told the recumbent man, manuvering the covers out from under him.

James smiled innocently up at her as she drew the coverlet up to his chin, tucking the edges beneath the mattress.

'That's the one,' he said proudly, blinking owlishly in the candlelight. 'Do you know it?'

Marin smiled faintly, remembering how often she had sung it before then. Strange, the tune had not come to mind over recent months.

'Yes, I know it,' she said softly, gently brushing his hair from his face. 'You should sleep now.'

His hand caught hers as she turned away, keeping her nearby. Frowning in confusion, Marin looked down to find tears in the older man's eyes.

'Sing it to me,' he whispered, sounding alone and vulnerable in the dim light. 'Please?'

Touched by his sudden vulnerability, Marin sank down onto the bed, her hand still in his as he watched her.

'Why do you want to hear it?' she asked him gently, sensing there was more than nostalgia involved in the request.

James swallowed against his tears.

'My mother . . . she used to sing it to me when I was a child,' he told her softly. 'She died when I was very young. To hear Robert sing it again brought her back to me. Please . . . I need her tonight.'

Unable to deny him what he so obviously needed, Marin cleared her throat quietly, pushing aside her own sorrowful recognition of the pain that filled the commodore's voice. Softly, she began to sing, holding his hand in her own as the melody filled the little chamber.

James smiled, listening to the familiar tune and feeling the serenity that had gone away with his mother return to him once more. Marin's voice had a rich emotive tone to it, and he found himself hoping to hear more of her singing at more convenient times. As she sang softly to him, he drifted off to sleep, bound up in the magic of the song as it surrounded his heart with old memories filled with love.

Marin gently removed her hand from his, slipping softly from the chamber with a heavy heart. She had thought herself hard done by not to have known her parents. It had never occurred to her that to have known them and lost them could be infinitely worse. She shut the door quietly, not wishing to wake him, and turned to go up to her own room.

'What were you in there so long for?'

The voice made her jump, and she scowled at Jack as he sauntered out from the shadows to wrap an affectionate arm about her shoulders.

'Talking,' she told him, letting him walk with her up the stairs.

Jack snorted in relief. He had thought that perhaps the commodore had beaten him at his own game.

'Good, because I wanted to ask you something,' he said, frowning as his inebriated brain failed to hold on to the thought even as he spoke.

Unfortunately for him, Marin paused, looking up at her drunken companion with interest

'What was it you wanted?' she asked.

Jack stared down at her, caught up in the sudden urge to kiss her. He meant forwards, drawing his arms about her shoulders. However, Marin had other ideas. She pushed him away, wrinkling her nose at the stench of alcohol wafting around him.

'God, Jack, you smell like a brewery,' she said, disgusted. 'Please don't come so close until you've washed, at least.'

Jack blinked slowly looking very confused.

'Don't you want me to kiss you?' he asked bluntly. 'Most women do.'

Marin hid her smile, turning away to open her door, fully aware that he was expecting to follow her inside. She looked up at his adorably hurt expression and decided he'd get over it.

'Not tonight, Josephine,' she said softly, and shut the door in his face.

Jack gave the painted wood a disgruntled glare, as if it was somehow to blame for his being on the wrong side of the door. He shrugged and turned away . . . too quickly as it turned out. The world spun wildly for a moment, and then went black. All Marin heard was the thud as he hit the floor, out for the count.

*~*~*

Hey there! The song is a real song, Irish Gaelic and all that, and the title translates as 'For Ireland I'd Not tell Her Name', which I think fits rather well don't you?

And ah . . . heh heh . . . *gulp* I've had a sprint of inspiration over the last couple of days. I have roughly six chapters that need posting, and I was wondering . . . do you want them all at once or spaced out?

Oh, and the results of the poll conclude that no one wants Norrington to get together with Marin, so I have a rather delirious captain on my hands here. Get back to me on the chapters, hmmm? *gestures again towards the little blue button*